"I returned once more to Benicia to sing at a concert given by the Methodist Church. I sang in the same old Courthouse Hall where so often we had our closing exercises. It was in this hall, June 12, 1856, that I sang Schubert's Serenade for the first time with Johanna Lapfgeer, soprano, afterwards Mrs. Dr. Bryant of San Francisco. I still have the programme which today is fifty-five years old. My return was in 1898. After the concert I hoped to see many of my old friends of Benicia, but there were but six present of all I knew long years ago. I marveled at the small number left. The next day I visited the old school. As I stood at the door I slowly surveyed the scene and my thoughts went down the vista of time and filled my heart with sadness at the dreadful dilapidation of the school where so many bright minds had been educated and gone forth to make names and reputations among the most honorable women in the state. After I was admitted and allowed to survey the place I stood in the entrance of the old schoolroom. In my mind I could recall the faces of the girls as they sat at their desks long ago. The decay of the school was all so dreadful to me I could not hold back the tears. I turned quickly away and sought the old well where we had so often quenched our thirst as girls, when life was young and hopes high. I found the friend of long ago, but, like all the rest of the place, it was also in the last stages of decay. I had become so sad at all this passing away I did not feel the pleasure I had anticipated in visiting the school again. The teachers that were employed during my time at school were: Prof. P. Pioda, music and language; Mary Atkins, principal; Miss Cynthia Vaughn, assistant; Mrs. Reynolds, teacher of the younger day pupils; Miss Pettibeaux, painting and drawing; Miss Johanna Lapfgeer, piano and German; Samuel Gray, bookkeeping; Margaret Kroh, writing and drawing. The directors were: Dr. S. Woodbridge, B.W. Mudge, Samuel Gray, Dr. Peabody, Captain Walsh and J.W. Jones.

"As far as I can recall them, the names of the former pupils were: Emily Walsh, Benicia; May Emma Woodbridge, Benicia; May Hook, Benicia; Mary Riddell, Benicia; Josie Latimer, Stockton; Minnie Latimer, Stockton; Elizabeth Manning, Stockton; Frances Livingston, San Francisco; May Livingston, San Francisco; Kate Grimm, Sacramento; Mary Bidwell, Chico; Mary Church, Chico; Rose Reynolds, San Jose; Sallie Tennant, Marysville; Mollie Tennant, Marysville; Althea Parker, Stockton; Miss Rollins, Martinez; May O'Neil, Sacramento; Aggie Bell, Sacramento; Maggie Kroh, Stockton; Sophia Dallas, Stockton; Mary Dallas, Stockton; Nellie Meader, Stockton; Mary Vincent, Sacramento; Ella Hunt, San Francisco; May Warren, San Francisco; Georgia Warren, San Francisco; Grace Woodbridge, Benicia; Ruth Vaughn, Sacramento.

"The day pupils were: Mary Hastings, Benicia; Virginia Hubbs, Benicia; Lou Boggs, Napa; Percy Garritson, Benicia; Maria Barber, Martinez; Amanda Hook, Martinez; May Hook, Martinez; Mattie Carpenter, San Francisco; Rebecca Woodbridge, Benicia."

The Benicia girls were seated at a table especially decorated for the occasion. Through the thoughtfulness of Mrs. Mills, eighteen of the old class were present at this time. This was the last meeting that I ever attended of the members of the Alma Mater, for on September 1, 1901, I was thrown from a street car and made a cripple for the rest of my days and my usefulness was cut short for filling engagements of any sort. Since my recovery I have confined myself to voice teaching. Only on a few occasions have I appeared in public. This was either on Decoration Day or the Fourth of July, when my patriotism was aroused. I was always ready to sing for Old Glory or help our boys who fought in 1861.



In 1855 when I left the seminary I returned to my home in Stockton. My parents were getting along in years and I felt it my duty to aid them if possible. There were many families in Stockton at this time and young children were everywhere. I conceived the idea of an infant school composed of little boys and girls too small to go to the public schools. My suggestion met with approval wherever I applied, and I soon had thirty pupils promised. I rented a cottage of one room across the slough from my home. On July 1, 1856, I began and soon had a school full of little folks, numbering thirty-five. I continued teaching until September 17, 1857, when I also followed my older sisters' example and was married to George H. Blake, the eldest son of Sir Edwin Blake, who was Minister Plenipotentiary to England from America at one time. My husband was also the grandson of Major-General Benjamin Lincoln, a heroic officer of the Revolution and a skillful diplomat in the councils of his country. Lincoln was born in Hingham, near Boston, May 23d, 1733. In 1775 he was elected a member of the Provincial Congress and was appointed on the committee of correspondence. In 1776 he received the appointment of brigadier and soon after that of major-general. He rendered valuable services in the trying campaign and signalized himself in the battles on the plains of Saratoga which proved so disastrous to Burgoyne. He was severely wounded during these battles. In the battle that took place on October 7, 1776, he was obliged to leave the army. He did not return until the following August, when he was immediately sent south to assume command of the army in that quarter, which on his arrival at Charleston in December, 1778, he found in the most miserably destitute and disorderly condition. But his indefatigable industry and diplomatic energy enabled him in the following June to take the field. Such was his popularity with the army and the whole country that when he rejoined the army in 1781 to co-operate with the southern army, he had the high satisfaction of taking part in the reduction of Yorktown and of conducting the defeated army to the field, where they were to lay down their arms at the feet of the illustrious Washington. General Lincoln took the sword from Lord Cornwallis and delivered it to his Commander-in-Chief, Washington.



I feel justly proud with my sons, George Lincoln Blake and William Ellery Blake, to claim such illustrious descendants of our great republic, especially Lincoln, who gained such high recognition from our government for his patriotism and diplomatic energy in the beginning of our republic. He quelled the famous Shay's insurrection in 1786-87. He held the post of Lieutenant-Governor, was member of the convention called to ratify the new Constitution, and for years was collector of port in Boston and besides filled many minor offices. He received from Harvard University the degree of Master of Arts, was a member of the Academy of Arts and Sciences as well as of the Massachusetts Horticultural Society, and was president of the Society of Cincinnati from its organization to the day of his death. He closed his honorable and useful life in the seventy-eighth year of his life at Hingham, Mass., May 9, 1810.

This bit of history I have selected from the papers of Capt. Charles Blake, who was the grand uncle of my sons, who died in 1859 during the time I visited Boston with my husband to pursue my studies in music. Capt. Charles Blake was the seventh captain of the Blake family, was a man celebrated for his bravery and as a sailor was unexcelled in his time. I also found among his papers a Masonic sheepskin (which perhaps will be an interesting bit of information for the Masons of California), the first one that was ever gotten for an American. It could not be obtained in America, consequently it was secured in England. It bears the faded marks of "Grand Lodge of Master Masons, London No. 25, Registered on the books of the Grand Lodge in London, the 11th day of September in the year of Masonry, 5011." The grand seal is attached and signed by Robert Leslie, Grand Secretary: Edward Harper, D. Gr. Sec. This is the oldest Masonic sheepskin of the grand lodge in America. It was received by my uncle when he was twenty-five years old and has been in my possession since 1869, forty-two years ago, when we received his trunks after his death. I alone am able to give these facts of our family history, which should be known to all the members of our family. This is a family book as well as an intimate history of my life. I have been received during my life in California with so much affection and appreciation by the public I have served, that when I write I consider those who read are my friends, that we are of one common family, and I cannot look upon the people of California in any other way, for the very fact that everybody I meet or have any dealings with greet me with such courtesy and warmth.

The death of sister Mary Matilda Kroh-Trembly occurred November 8, 1856, in the thirty-first year of her life at the old home on San Joaquin street, Stockton. In 1855 she was married to Mr. David W. Trembly of New York. They settled in San Francisco, but after living there for several months the climate was found to be too severe and she contracted bronchitis, for weeks being unable to leave her room. At last she became so feeble that she was brought home to Stockton and lingered for weeks. I was at Benicia Seminary still and in my last half year when I received a letter to hurry home. Uncle William Trembly came from San Francisco to Benicia to meet me, and together we came up the San Joaquin slough, but unfortunately for us we had many things to keep us from arriving in time to see her alive. At last the steamer was fast on the hog's back, the tide was out and we could not proceed. The sailors worked with a will, but it was not until three o'clock in the morning that we were on our way once more. What a night of suspense! I loved my sister to devotion, and not to see her alive was more than I dared to contemplate, but so it was to be. She passed into eternity at the time we were trying to get off the sand bar and when uncle and I arrived in the morning, she was dead.

This was the first death that had taken place in our family. All of us had grown to manhood and womanhood and had been mercifully spared all these years until now the dearest one of all had to pass away and leave us to mourn her loss. She was the embodiment of all that was good in life, a pattern for all to follow. She was our second mother. When mother was attending to the church work or visiting the sick, accompanying father at baptisms, weddings, funerals or other offices that fall to the minister's wife, sister was always ready to take her place and see that all was well at home. She taught in the public schools, gave music lessons, was German teacher, organist on Sunday and teacher in the Sabbath school. Her life was always full of duties. She had also been father's secretary and attended to all of his correspondence in his absence. Never complaining, always there to attend to all the duties devolving upon her, she was a happy spirit of the home, as much missed as mother or father. She was my pattern and guide and if I have ever achieved anything to merit commendation during my life I owe all my best to her. She was my first music teacher and I have never deviated from her principles of voice placement. By so doing I am able to sing today with a correct knowledge of perfect tone production and able to impart to others the same tonal art that I have given to hundreds of pupils that have come under my supervision during my many years of successful teaching in California. Being so widely known and loved by all who knew her, when she was buried the schools were closed and the children, two by two, marched in procession and every conveyance that could be procured at that time was used so that all who wished to honor the beloved could do so. All the dear friends who were the instigators in procuring the first piano for her were in the procession and were most sincere mourners for the loved musician who always gave them so many hours of real happiness.

She was the leading spirit of the pleasures which they had so many times enjoyed in their loneliness away from their homes in the East. The music that was rendered by our family was the only diversion and happiness that came into their lives in the early fifties when the world seemed to be populated by men alone, all seeking the one aim—to get gold and go back rich men and then enjoy wealth and ease and comfort and make amends for the struggles and deprivations they had suffered. Now the spirit of this cherished friend had passed out to join the Choir Invisible, and a befitting burial was given her as a memorial of the affection in which she was held by those who owed her so much of real happiness in the severe struggles of the pioneer life when we were but a small colony of the first white women and men in the City of Stockton.



CHAPTER FOUR

HOW I MADE THE FIRST BEAR FLAG IN CALIFORNIA

When I was fifteen years old the San Joaquin slough was wide enough for river steamers, schooners and sloops to make safe landings in the heart of Stockton. This was in 1854. Schooners brought lumber, potatoes and hay to Stockton from San Francisco. One of the boats making a monthly trip to Stockton was captained by a popular young man familiarly called "Captain Charley." That is my reason for not calling him by his name. I never saw him, but my brother, George Kroh, would often stand on the wharf and watch his men unload the steamer. It was on one of these occasions that Captain Charley in conversation with one of his friends said, "I tell you, John, I'd give a fifty-dollar slug if I could get a Bear flag to fly from the topmast of my natty schooner. Nothing would please me more than to come up this slough with just such a flag. I won't rest, either, until I have Old Glory and the Bear Flag flying on my craft." When the captain's friend left him, my brother stepped up to him and said, "Were you in earnest, captain, when you said you would give a fifty-dollar slug for a Bear flag?" The captain laughed and said, "I certainly was in earnest, and I'll say it again to you."

My brother said, "Captain, I have a sister who can make you that flag." "All right," said Captain Charley, "You have a fine flag ready when I get back and the slug will be yours." It was a bargain and they shook hands on the deal. When George came home he said to mother, "Where's Maggie?" "Up stairs," was the reply. He came up and said in an off-hand way, "Maggie, how would you like to make a Bear flag?" I looked up in surprise and said, "A bear flag? What kind of a flag is that?" My sister, Mary, spoke up and said, "Why, Maggie, it is the flag of California. I saw a picture of it in the newspaper, and I cut it out." She then asked George who wanted the flag. "Well," he replied, "Captain Charley of one of these schooners said this morning he would give a fifty-dollar slug to get a Bear flag to float beside Old Glory, and I told him you would make it for him." A fifty-dollar slug all my own! "Ha, ha," I laughed in high glee. "I'll make it if sister will help me." So it was planned I should make the first Bear flag to fly on any boat up the San Joaquin river.

The next morning sister and I went to the dry goods store at Grove and Knight streets, and after getting the proper materials we obtained information in regard to the size of the flag and the bear and other details. The work began early the next day and my hands were busy hemming the sides and ends while sister drew the shape of the bear and cut it out of brown drilling. We got our quilting frame and stretched the flag on it, and when it was all nicely stretched we laid the bear on the white surface and began to get it into the right place. Then the basting began so that nothing should go wrong in putting it neatly and correctly in the middle. After it was securely basted we had some dark green drilling cut so as to resemble the grass under his feet, and that was carefully basted and looked very proper. Now there was a star to go on in the corner. We cut it out of blue selicia and soon had it in its place. My sister Mary was an artist and could draw anything and cut anything she wished. After the basting was done, we stood and looked at our work with a satisfied air, pleased with our effort in making a flag for the first time. Now came the work. All this had to be done by hand. There were no sewing machines at that time, and the only way was to hem down every figure, also the letters and star. The edges must be secure or else the wind would soon play havoc with the flag, so stitch after stitch was taken and everything was thoroughly hemmed and carefully fastened. I was no stranger to the needle, and my deft fingers flew over these letters and hemmed in the corners, so that when it was finished and pressed they looked as though they were woven upon the cloth. I was a whole month stitching and hemming the different parts that composed the flag.



At last it was finished and ready for delivery, and we awaited the coming of Captain Charley. My brother watched the boats come in and after the third day of watching he was rewarded by seeing the craft moving slowly up the slough, heavily laden with lumber and bags of potatoes and other articles needed in the market and for building. When the vessel was made fast to the dock Brother George came home and reported, and we were all excitement to know if it was to be a reality or a joke in regard to the flag. Next noon brother went down and when he saw the captain he went to him and told him that the flag he had ordered was finished, and it was a beauty, too. "All right," said the captain, "let me see the flag and I'll be on hand with the gold in an hour." The flag was opened in the cabin of the craft and when the captain saw the beautifully finished flag he had no words to express himself. He just gazed upon it like a child with a new toy. At last he turned to his sideboard and took from it two decanter stands with bands of silver two inches high and heavily wrought edge on the bottoms of the finest polished wood and in the center a silver deer's head, with the name of the vessel in silver. He soon wrapped these beautiful stands up and handed them to my brother, besides the fifty-dollar slug. He sent them as a compliment to the young lady of fifteen years who could make a flag of this sort with such exquisite neatness. When brother returned it was our turn to be astonished to see these beautiful decanter stands, fit to grace the sideboard of any mansion in the land, and they were mine, and also the slug which brother tossed into my lap. When I saw it I could not believe my eyes. It looked as big as a cart wheel to me, for I never possessed so much money in all my life before. You can readily believe it was a ten days' wonder.



We had moved into our new home on San Joaquin street and the cost had been great. To have a house in those days was a luxury and it was always the rule of our family not to owe anything that could be paid. We all worked toward that end, so when everything was paid there was not so much income as of old. Following the hardships of crossing the plains, father was never himself again, and we felt that he had earned his rest after all these years of church work and mission-building from one state to another. He had got so far away from the Eastern Board of Missions and had always been such a tower of strength in all his work that they neglected him and he felt it, in spite of all his tenderness of heart towards the church and humanity. He gradually failed and gave up all work and contented himself in his garden, shop and library.

My sister Mary was always my guide in everything. For a few days I kept my precious slug and looked at it and thought how much money it was. One evening I heard father and mother talking together after they had retired. The door of our sleeping apartments were always open into the hall, in case of sickness or accident, and for some reason I could not go to sleep. As I lay there I heard father and mother planning some problem. I could not hear all, but I understood there was some money needed. In the morning, after all the work was done and I was sitting by my sister's side sewing with her, I told her what I had heard before I went to sleep. "Yes," she said, "Father has still something to pay and he feels he cannot take any more from the family allowance, for there are so many of us." "Oh," I replied, "He can have my slug. I wonder why he did not tell me he needed it." I soon had the precious money in my hand and sister and I found a box to put it into. The following little letter had to go with it: "My dear father and mother: I am so glad I was able, with my sister Mary's help, to make the pretty flag and so get this fine piece of gold to help pay on the dear home which Mary, Jane, Sallie and I helped to buy for you with the day's work with our boarders. It was a happy and cheerful task to help you in building the first dwelling house in our dear Stockton. Now it will all be yours as long as you live. I willingly give you my flag money, so you will not have to fret any more over the debt of the house. Always, your laughing, happy girl, Rosana Margaret."

The box and letter were put at father's place on the dinner table and after he was seated he noticed it. Putting on his glasses he said, "Children, what have we here. It is not my birthday." Not a word was said while he read the letter, then he opened the box and saw the bright golden slug. He laid down his glasses and looked over at me and said, "So Rosana Margaret, it was by your cheerful handiwork that the last burden has been lifted." I quietly lifted up my face and said, "Father, Tilly helped me and we are glad you won't have to trouble any more." He then lifted up his hands and said, "Let us ask God's blessing." If prayer is the soul's sincere desire, uttered or unexpressed, then I think the offering on Abel's altar was not more acceptable before the Lord than was the prayer of my most reverent father as he prayed for a blessing on his family, far from the scenes of his early life and all that went to make him happy when he and mother went hand in hand out into God's vineyard to do God's work, he as an ordained man of God and she an ideal minister's wife who never faltered in her duty through the roughest pioneer days in the swamps of Illinois to the last journey to California to build up the Church of God even here in the farthest west by the Golden Gate. All that was mortal of these two faithful pilgrims rests in the new cemetery in Stockton, always united in life and in death were not divided:

"What's this that steals, that steals upon my breath, Is it death? is it death? If this be death, I soon shall be From every sin and sorrow free. I shall the King of Glory see, All is well, all is well."

(Father and mother's last hymn.)



CHAPTER FIVE

BOSTON. DEDHAM CHOIR, 1858. THE CIVIL WAR. FAMOUS MUSICIANS. RETURN TO CALIFORNIA. SANTA CRUZ.

In January, 1859, I accompanied my husband to Boston to visit his relatives. My son George was seven months old. My husband realized my voice was more than ordinary and as he was a fine tenor, and also a good pianist, he desired that I should have the best advantages that could be procured, so once more I made the pilgrimage of the ocean and the Isthmus. We arrived at noon in New York in the midst of a heavy snow-storm—gloomy, cold and raw—snow everywhere. I remained in the depot while my husband attended to our baggage and secured the tickets for Boston, and we left New York at three o'clock in the afternoon. Blockades of snow twice stopped our train and shovel ploughs had to be used. On the following day, taking rooms at the nearest hotel and having been made comfortable, my husband sought his relatives. On his return at four o'clock in the afternoon we went to the home of his uncle, William Lincoln, on Chestnut street, who had been my husband's foster father after the death of his parents. Here we remained until we moved to 120 Charles street, afterward moving to Dedham, where Mr. Blake was made a fine business offer.

In this city I began my musical studies. It was noised about that the young merchant's wife was a singer from California. In a short time I became a member of Dr. Burgess' choir, composed of men and women of the first families in Dedham. Mr. Blake and myself were the only two persons who ever sang with them that had not been born and bred there. They had sung together for over sixteen years, some of the members had grown old in the service. They were instructed each week by Edwin Bruce, who came from Boston each Tuesday and drilled and taught us in the best music of the day. He was a most competent leader and teacher. With our choir he directed and drilled three more choirs. His soloists were the best that could be procured and our concerts were looked forward to by the people who filled Tremont Temple to years of study I associated with and heard singers of all nations and had an opportunity to study the music of oratorios, church and concert work. The Handel and Haydn society had over 500 members, Carl Zerrahn, leader, Howard Dow, organist. With our choir and the other three choirs I have spoken of, we lived in an atmosphere of music continually for four years.



In the first part of 1861 war was declared and a state of great excitement prevailed. Volunteers were sought and young men and boys and old men who were vigorous, men filled with patriotic fire, responded. Everybody was ready to go to the front. No one held back services or money. Even the women began to feel they must do something and while the recruits were drilling and women were sewing, making comforters, havelocks, ditty bags, bandages, lint and other necessaries required for the wounded, they formed themselves into a Christian Commission Society and began systematically to plan ways and means to meet the situation which needed so much attention and help from every one, old or young. The Elders of the church gave us permission to use the church parlors to sew in and four sewing machines were put in and work began in earnest to help the cause. Old ladies made lint and knitted socks and other necessary articles that soldiers need. On the evening of May 1, 1861, we gave the first concert in aid of the soldiers. The choir was assisted by Miss Louisa Adams, soprano; Edwin Bruce, director; Charles Capin, organist of the Orthodox Society. The church was crowded to its utmost capacity, the overflow was sufficient to insure another house. Everybody was on tiptoe to hear the choir give its first concert for the soldiers. The sixteen ladies of the choir were dressed in white with tri-colored scarfs over their shoulders. The men in dress suits back of them completed the picture. Large flags were draped on either side of the organ and festoons of evergreens fell gracefully from the front of the choir loft and organ. Cheer after cheer rang out as the choir arose to sing America. It was fully ten minutes before we were allowed to begin the concert.

The praises of this first concert were so many that we were obliged to give another in Tremont Temple in Boston. From that time we gave a concert each month to raise funds for the volunteers during the year 1861. The treasury was always supplied from the proceeds of these concerts and the supply of money never failed, to my knowledge, during my sojourn in Dedham. The excitement of the hour was intense—regiments of volunteers passed daily on their way to the front. They were greeted and cheered by the people; garlands and bouquets were thrown from the windows as they passed. It was a scene that never will be forgotten, when we reflect that not two-thirds of these splendid men ever came back. Later on the choirs visited the hospitals and we found many brave hearts, who had fought and were wounded for their country, lying there. To them we brought supplies of fruit, flowers and nourishing food and sang to them. So the good work went on from week to week until the year 1861 was nearly over. We decided to return to California, business was demoralized and uncertainty reigned and we had been four years from home. During that time I had become a singer and was able to take my place with other artists of repute. I had during my study become acquainted with the foremost artists of that time and sang with them on many occasions.

Among the famous organists of 1858 were:

W.R. Babcock Charles J. Capen G.W. Harris H.W. Edes Adolph Baumbach J.H.B. Thayer Howard M. Dow I.D. Parker W.B. Clark Carl Zerrahn, Leader.

The men and women singers of Dedham Congregational Church Choir in 1858 were:

Adams, Louisa, Miss, prima donna Adams, Henrietta, Miss, contralto Blake, Margaret, Mrs., mezzo-contralto Bates, Helen, Miss, soprano Bullard, Mary, Miss, soprano Boyd, Mary, Miss, soprano Bickner, Clara, Miss, soprano Covell, O.M., Miss, contralto Draper, M.J. Mrs., soprano Daniel, Olive, Mrs. contralto Everett, Hattie, Miss, soprano Fisher, Mattie E., Mrs., contralto Guild, Hattie, Miss, contralto Guild, Mary, Miss, soprano Kingsbury, Susan, Miss, soprano Taft, Louisa, Miss, soprano Williams, N.R., Mrs., contralto Blake, Geo. H., tenor Burgess, Dr. E.P., bass Burgess, Edwin, tenor Churchill, C.C., bass Calder, Bert, bass Danforth, C.B., bass Eaton, J., bass Everett, E., bass Fisher, Alvin J., bass (former choir master) Hitchings, Henry, bass Sherwin, Henry, tenor Taft, J.G., bass Wright, Geo., tenor Wright, Charles, bass Macbeth, G.W., bass Capen, Chas. J., organist Bruce, Edwin, director Daniel, Ellery C., choir master

Thirty-five singers, men and women, composed the choir of Dr. Burgess' church in Dedham, and as organist we had Chas. J. Capen. The director and teacher of vocal music was Edwin Bruce. Ellery C. Daniel was choir master. In addition to this choir, Mr. Bruce controlled three other quartette and chorus choirs that could be called upon to aid us in any entertainment we chose to give, consequently when the war broke out it was not many weeks before we were in demand and continued to successfully and constantly add new laurels to our large galaxy of singers of repute. Carl Zerrahn was leader of the Handel and Haydn Society, of which we were all members. The soloists were many of the best on this continent. What magnificent music we gave. I lived just in a world of song and associated with the best of them and was accepted and acknowledged by them all. I remember well when we gave the oratorio, David, April 3, 1859, the forty-third season. I never had sung with so many singers before and I was in a maze of excitement. I was ready also to enjoy every note, for it was the largest aggregation of solo singers I had ever heard. The soloists were:

Mrs. J.H. Long, dramatic soprano Miss Louisa Adams, coloratura soprano J.P. Draper, tenor P.H. Powers, bass Edward Hamilton, bass C.R. Adams, tenor George Wright, Jr., bass Carl Zerrahn, conductor J.C.D. Parker, organist

With all these artists and 500 in the chorus to round out the society, we gave a great performance. The Boston Music Hall was crowded to the doors and the oratorio was as perfectly given as could be asked by the most exacting critic. This was but one of the beautiful oratorios that were given during my stay in Massachusetts. Instead of church service on the Sabbath evenings, the oratorios were given. In this way I was able to learn the music of all the most important works on oratorio. I was but twenty-one years old when I began this kind of singing. Church music I sang from my infancy, consequently my voice was fully developed in the broad church style and I had no difficulty to acquire this, although it was more difficult music than I had ever attempted, but with patience and weekly rehearsals and daily practice it became familiar and a part of my life. While the rebellion was raging we laid aside oratorio work and studied patriotic music suitable to the concerts that we were called upon to give to raise funds for the soldiers. All social life was put aside and we devoted our time to help our fathers, brothers and sons who were called away to fight for the union of states. There were no laggards in these stirring times; young and old alike were imbued with the patriotism that possessed our forefathers of 1776.

Here I regret to say I am afraid in our later days there is not the same spirit of patriotism as I saw it in the year of 1861. To me of all the flags that ever floated in any country of the universe none appeals as the American flag does. When I see its graceful folds unfurled to the breeze, catching the gleams of the morning's first beam, my heart leaps with pride and patriotic fire. To my mind I never possessed voice enough to sing the praises of the finest flag that ever floated under the canopy of heaven. Any one less patriotic in spirit than this is not worthy to call America his country or home. In vision I can now see these splendid men march to their death. Regiment after regiment passed daily and was encouraged and cheered by the enthusiastic women and children who watched the soldiers until out of sight. Then after they had embarked, the women returned to their firesides and wondered who would return. Tears came unbidden, yet we were strong in the belief and hope that our loved ones would not be sacrificed. After a hard struggle of four years some homes were made happy and others felt the blow. Many returned wounded. To them we gave all care. The hospitals were visited and relief given. There were services for the sick and burial for the dead. Our voices as well as the work were not spared as long as we could give aid to the living and the dead. This experience of my life has prompted me to extend any service I can for the men who fought so bravely when the crisis came, and as long as I have voice and can help in any capacity in aid of the American soldier who fought in 1861 I shall give the best I have.



Before I leave my Eastern subject I wish to recall some of the celebrated singers and organists whom I had an opportunity to hear, at their best, and with many of whom I passed happy hours musically and in pleasant companionship. Most of the singers of my time were American singers, even in the Italian opera:

1859.

Mrs. Jennie Kempton, contralto Mrs. Washburn, soprano Isabelle Hinkley, soprano Abbie Plummer, contralto Miss Louisa Adams, coloratura soprano Mrs. Margaret Blake, mezzo-contralto B.F. Gilbert, tenor C.E. Pickett, tenor I.P. Draper, bass Mr. Wadleigh, bass Mr. Emerson, tenor Henry Clay Barnabee, tenor

1860.

Prof. B.J. Lang, pianist Howard M. Dow, organist Adolph Baumbach, pianist Carl Zerrahn, conductor Mlle. Carlotta Patti Madam Colson Adelaide Phillips Anna Louisa Carey Carl Formes, basso profundo

1861.

PROGRAMMES.

Martha Lucia Di Lammermoor Un Ballo in Maschera La Juive Il Giuramento The Messiah Moses in Egitto David

I have placed these programmes here so as to show what singers were considered the first and best fifty years ago. My impressions received at that time left their imprint for excellence and a pattern for those who aspire to real worth to follow.

The unfortunate training of the voices in our time has given us many inferior singers who come and go and are forgotten. The great singers of before are engraved forever in the hearts of those who were fortunate enough to enjoy the exquisite rendering of their work. We call this an age of progress. We may be wiser in some directions, but as for the best music the past will have to chronicle the superior singer. Carlotta Patti was a more beautiful singer than her sister Adelina. On account of her lameness she could not travel as an opera singer. I have heard both singers and Carlotta was my choice. Adelina was the most advertised, for she was a money-maker and demanded just so much notoriety when she engaged and signed her contracts. Her power was supreme and no one dared to say her nay. Woe be to the poor prima donna who sang better or had more applause or favors than she did. She was the only queen of song as long as her reign lasted. Emma Nevada and Madam Etelka Gersta were her especial victims when they sang the same season with her. I am stating facts which will stand. To be a good singer and up to the standard one must be a good woman with a refined and educated mind, a sympathetic temperament, charitable nature towards others who are doing what they can to bring up a standard for generations to follow.

The war was still in progress when my husband decided in November, 1861, to return to California. I had been away from home four years and had enjoyed all these advantages and had done what I could for the volunteers who had fought for the preservation of the Union. There were great surprise and murmurs of regret on all sides when Mr. Blake made known our intention to go to California. He was one of the tenors and very musical, and I as his wife shared with him the honors in this choir of thirty-five voices. We had become such friends it was like parting from a family. Our successful concerts in aid of the soldiers, the many Sabbaths we worshiped and sang together, made us an harmonious band of singers. We had one more meeting for the clubs and choir before we made our departure. It took place on November 31, 1861. The ground was covered with snow and we were obliged to wear rubber boots to be able to get on at all, but we were used to it and it mattered not to us. The meeting was held in the parlors of the church instead of the schoolrooms as was our wont. For a change our leader said we would have an impromptu concert in the church choir so as to use the organ. Edwin Bruce, our leader and instructor, came from Boston and brought several fine singers with him. Mr. Blake and I were asked to come somewhat earlier. On arriving at the church we found quite an illumination in the parlors. Choirmaster Daniel and his wife were the host and hostess and welcomed us. When we had taken our places beside them the church doors slowly opened and the guests arrived two by two, in full evening costume, and we received them until all had welcomed us. The choir formed in a procession and wended its way into the gallery which was darkened save for one or two lights so we could see to reach our accustomed places in the gallery. When all were in their places and our organist, Charles Capin, began playing America, Mr. Bruce taking his baton and position, raised it and the lights were turned on and before us sat the congregation, every pew being filled. It was quite a moment before I could realize this change and did not open my mouth to sing a note, for I was so bewildered. At last, when I heard all were singing, I sang and cried at the same time, for I realized this great kindness had been prepared for us. Great was the applause when we had finished this song. We sang until ten o'clock some of our best choruses, solos, duets, trios, etc. We concluded with "Viva l'America," Miss Louisa Adams taking the solo and the choir the chorus. Dr. Burgess spoke tenderly of us, strangers from far-off California who had been so generous with our voices and help these four years and wished us all good things and a safe return to our home by the Golden Gate. We were then dismissed with the benediction. Mr. Daniel had requested us to take our places in the parlors and an impromptu reception was held until all the congregation had bid us good-bye. About eleven o'clock only the choir remained and the pastor and family. The Sabbath schoolroom had been decorated and tables were spread for the banquet which had been prepared by loving hands and through the kindness of the generous congregation that appreciated our services. Three surprises in one evening was almost more than I could bear. I was like one in a dream. After refreshments had been enjoyed, Mr. Edwin Bruce came forward and with a very appropriate speech placed in my hand an album filled with the pictures of the choir, leaders, past and present, director and organist. I was so astonished I had not the power to speak, so my husband, who stood beside me, replied to the giver of such a beautiful and thoughtful gift to us who were to sever the bonds of friendship and song after these four happy years together. I do not suppose one of these beautiful singers, either man or woman, is alive today, but I shall present their pictures in this volume as a memorial to one of the most distinguished choirs that ever sang together, some of the singers for sixteen years, and that gladly gave its best for the Union and its preservation in 1861.



After we had severed our connection with the choir in Dedham, Mr. Blake wound up relations with his firm, Parker, Barnes & Merriam, on Milk street, Boston; we reluctantly gave up the dear old-fashioned Taft home, with its shade trees and orchards and fine kitchen garden, where we had passed so many happy years; we said good-bye to our lovely neighbors the Adams, and Follensbee and Bullard families, and moved to Hersey place, Boston, to remain until we left for California, February, 1862. We took the same route I had taken in 1851 and were on the way for two months. But things had changed and the scene was altogether different. Over the Chagres river route we traveled upon the rails we saw being laid when we came over in 1851. The trip was uneventful, only that I was ill all the way, but being young and hopeful and with the best of care, I once more came safely into San Francisco bay. We surprised our sister, Mrs. W.H. Knight, and family, who lived on Fifth and Market streets. Great was our rejoicing to see our friends again. After a week's stay we left them for our old home in Stockton. The rain had been severe, the creeks and rivers were swollen, and we had a wet home coming, but we found the family in waiting to greet us. It was soon noised about that the Blakes had come home from Boston and we had no end of greetings and rejoicings. The rain still came down and by May we were in dread of a flood, which later came to pass. Water was everywhere. We were on the highest point in the city, and before we were aware of it we had sixteen inches of water in our house. On May 24th Dr. Grattin was called to our home and he came in a skiff and rowed to the door, pointing the bow into the parlor door and then stepping out into sixteen inches of water. Provided with rubber leggings, he waded to the stairs where mother awaited him with dry slippers and assisted him to my room. On May 25th my second son, William Ellery Blake, was born. Both boys are native sons of California and born in the home that was built in 1852. The first family dwelling, built fifty-nine years ago, is still standing as the homestead on San Joaquin street, Stockton, and apparently will be a suitable dwelling for many more years to come.

After my son was three months old Mr. Blake obtained a position in J.C. Johnson's saddle and harness business as expert bookkeeper and first salesman. We then left the old home and moved to San Francisco in the latter part of August and moved into the house owned by Dr. Calif. He had recently died and his widow did not wish to occupy this large house alone or desire the care of it. She arranged with us to take two large rooms and the remainder of the house was at our disposal. We were glad to have such a home. The rent was cheap and everything was furnished just as it had been when Dr. Calif was alive. We occupied this home until 1864, when Mr. Ben Smith made a proposition to have Mr. Blake take the superintendent's place at the San Lorenzo Paper Mill, about three or four miles from Santa Cruz. The company had built a six-room cottage and furnished it completely for us, should we decide to go. The large house was built for Mr. Sime and his family as a summer home for them. It was an ideal spot to live. The long flume ran along for miles. The river was dammed and the overflow made a beautiful waterfall. The hills were covered with chaparral and pine trees and wild flowers galore. The powder works were situated about a mile above us. The road ran about fifty feet from the cottage and, although we were among the hills, it was a busy place. Ox teams were constantly passing. The large cook house was below and the paper mill buildings were near at hand. About 150 men, constantly going from one place to another in their departments, made us feel we were not alone. There was fine fishing in the pool below the falls. The salmon would come up the creek from the ocean and the finest ones found their way into the pool, and on Friday the cook and his men supplied the tables with fresh fish. How many times have I seen those fine fish, caught on the prongs of a spear, writhe and wriggle to get off. At first I could not taste them, I felt so sorry to see them killed in that way. I would not go out on Friday until after the fishing was done. The lamper eels crawled up the stream and the men gathered them by the barrels full and made oil from them.

I had a Jersey cow and a fine milk house with a stream of cold water running through. I made my own butter and had enough to supply the Sime family when they spent their summer there. The lovely moonlight nights on this fine sheet of water above the dam are with me now, and how the hills resounded with our songs as we rowed along. I had a fine horse and carriage, and it was great sport to go to town with our splendid Jim, as we called him. Those were happy times. The children had the best of air and full play among the hills. We remained two years when Mr. Blake's eyes became inflamed from the fumes of the lime used to rot the straw, and we were obliged to give up the place and change once more.



CHAPTER SIX

SANTA CRUZ IN THE SIXTIES. WHY I BECAME A DRESSMAKER. OPERA. MUSIC IN SAN FRANCISCO IN THE SEVENTIES

We had become attached to Santa Cruz and concluded to live there and begin some kind of business. When our time had expired at the mill, Mr. Blake had found a convenient store. He was well known and had been chief salesman for J.C. Johnson & Bros., saddle and harness dealers on Market street, San Francisco, and later he was employed by Main & Winchester in the same business. He was able to get his stock and start under fine auspices. It was not long before everything looked prosperous for us. Since we were both musical, Mr. Blake having a fine lyric tenor voice and also playing the piano, we were soon the center of musical attraction. We found other voices also that were of the right sort, and it was not many months before the music of Santa Cruz was recognized and appreciated. Mrs. Eliza Boston, a fine dramatic soprano, was the wife of Joseph Boston, a wealthy business man, and sang only for her friends and church, which was her pleasure, but she was also kind when any necessity presented itself. She cheerfully did her part, especially for the Calvary Episcopal Church of which she was a devout member. The rector, Rev. Giles A. Easton, one of the pioneer ministers of the church, appreciated her talent in the assistance she gave to the music in those early days of California when music was so hard to obtain.

What happy days were these to us who loved music and sang for the love of it and for the little church that stands today covered with ivy, planted when Mrs. Boston and I sang together in the choir. On high days we were able to procure the assistance of some fine voices of the men singers, Samuel Sharp, basso; Rollins Case, tenor; Charles Metti, tenor soloist. There was no salary in those days for our services. We did it all as God's work and it mattered not what creed. Wherever we were needed our services were liberally given. Rev. P.Y. Cool was pastor of the First Methodist Church and I aided his church for many months and had fine support from Mr. Ossian Auld, one of God's voices sent on earth to give us a taste of what was in store for us in the Choir Invisible. How we sang together can only be appreciated by those who worshiped and heard the voices, who by nature were created with the musical temperament that sings. I never heard but one more tenor of that nature during my singing life in California and of him I will speak later, for it was after I returned to San Francisco that I had the pleasure to be in the choir and sing with the dearly beloved Joe Maguire. While I remained in Santa Cruz I sang for Dr. Frear's church, also the Unitarian Church of which the pastor, Dr. Ames, and his good wife were fine musicians. In the Presbyterian Church we found Mr. Fred Anthony, a tenor, who was one of the useful tenors, and reliable young men workers in the church. He came to California in 1854, a son of the Wm. Anthony family, composed of musicians. Miss Louisa Anthony was the organist of the church. The civil war was not yet at an end and money was needed for the wounded and the suffering in hospitals and the Christian commission was in need of funds to carry on the good work of relief. All who were able and had voices or dramatic talent were called upon to assist in the good work; consequently many entertainments were given in aid of this cause. Young and old who had talent were enlisted and there was no lack of enthusiasm, for the cause appealed to all who were patriotic and in sympathy with the boys in blue who were still marching, fighting and dying for our beloved land. Those who were foremost in the good work during these trying times are worthy of having their names enrolled in this history of California's early days as actors for good in the development of the state, upholding the government and assisting in the building of churches and other institutions that have made our State the Queen of the Pacific Coast. I feel proud that I can place on the roll of honor such names as the following men and women singers, dramatic performers and excellent musicians:

VOCALISTS.

Auld, Ossian, tenor Anthony, Frederick, tenor Anthony, Louisa, soprano Blake, Geo. H., tenor Boston, Mrs. Eliza, dramatic soprano Blake, Mrs. M.R., mezzo-contralto Finkeldey, W., tenor Grove, Mr., bass Kittridge, Miss, soprano Miller, Chas. M., tenor Metti, Chas., tenor Pringle, Wm., bass Pioda, Mrs. Mary Emma, soprano Battersby, Mr., tenor Bender, Edward, bass Baily, Miss Lorena, soprano Case, Rollin, tenor Sharp, Samuel, basso profundo Steal, Miss Ella, contralto Wilson, Mr., bass Williams, Miss, soprano

INSTRUMENTALISTS.

Bender, Edward, piano Emerson, Prof., violin (leader) Grove, Mr., violin Hihn, Kate, piano Jones, John M., violin (leader of Santa Cruz Cornet Band) McCann, Miss Pearl, piano Pioda, Prof. Paul, flute Rotier, Miss, piano Sheppherd, Prof., piano Woodbridge, Miss Abbe, piano Cooper, Miss May, piano Wilson, Prof., violin Waldron, Mr., piano Swanton, Mr. E., piano Kirby, Mr. G., piano Foreman, Mr. J., piano Smith, Miss M., piano

DRAMATIC TALENT.

Ames, Rev. Ames, Mrs. Binny, I. Baldwin, Mrs. Fanny Bittner, Miss A. Cooper, Miss May Cooper, Retta Carpenter, Miss Mattie Root, Miss May Metti, Charles Stanton, Miss Eleanor Swanton, E. Root, E. Blake, Mrs. M.R.



Our programmes were of the highest order, the voices pure and full without this abominable tremolo which is unknown to a person who knows how to sing correctly and naturally. Occasionally we had the assistance of some of the singers and players from San Francisco, who came for the summer outing, and they thought it great sport to add their gifts when called upon to help the country girls and boys, but they did not get far in their fun before they found they would need all their knowledge and do their best or else let the seaside talent outstrip them. We were called upon from time to time during my stay from 1864 to help different denominations in their work. Old folks' concerts, sacred concerts, fairs and donation parties were the usual efforts of those early days. There were no other places of amusement. Sometimes, at rare intervals, there was a show of some kind in Otto's Hall, a place that would hold 250 people. Whoever they were, they could not give as much pleasure as our own home talent, consequently they were not encouraged to repeat the visit. Mr. Blake continued his business successfully, I supposed, until towards the close of the year 1868. He became despondent and I could see trouble was brewing. He never brought his business home, so I was ignorant of anything in regard to its standing. In early years he had much to do with mining stocks and still held some that he thought would be profitable. The four years we were in Boston he held much stock and that was one reason we left, so he could be nearer and in touch with the rise and fall of the market. I was not aware of all this, and when the crisis came I was unprepared for the result. The money he made in the store went to keep up the margins, and changes in the market. At last the door of his store was closed and we were penniless and saw no way out of it.

I being always hopeful, it was for me to raise the drooping spirits and advise means of action. I left for San Francisco with the younger boy and Mr. Blake remained with the elder to straighten out his affairs as well as possible. I took my sewing machine with me and intended to retrieve the family fortune with my voice and my needle. I came to the home of Mrs. John Clough, a friend, on Third street, between Market and Mission. Her husband was a fine tenor singer and I knew she would help me get something to do. I was there but a few weeks when the Lyster Opera Troupe came from Australia and began singing at the old Metropolitan theater on Montgomery street. I was one of the 300 members of the Handel and Haydn Society, which was called upon by Mr. F. Lyster for voices for the chorus. A leading contralto and a soprano were in the troupe. Mrs. Cameron and I were chosen after the voices were tried and accepted. I had no trouble as I had studied the choruses of most of the familiar operas. I also knew many of the contralto arias, like Perlate de Amour in Faust and other contralto numbers of the different operas that we gave. I was engaged at $20 per week, which seemed to me a fabulous sum, for I was without any means. These were strenuous days, sometimes fourteen hours in the theatre a day, singing one opera and practicing a new one. I was not unhappy as I was doing something to help along the good work of regaining our footing and I worked willingly, but the operas of Norma, Les Huguenots, Faust, Aida were heavy and required long rehearsals, the theater was damp and cold and sometimes I wished myself out of it. After singing in ten heavy operas I caught cold and was obliged to stop, much to the disappointment of Mr. Lyster, as he had hoped to take me with the troupe. But I was too ill and besides my sons were too small to leave them behind, so I canceled my engagement and closed my career in opera.

Before I recovered, Mr. Blake had settled as best he could and left me to go to Reno, where his stocks were, to see if anything could be saved at all. When he returned after three months' absence I had taken the upper part of the house at the corner of O'Farrell and Stockton streets, and with what furniture I still possessed I started to rent rooms. I had also gotten the choir position as alto in St. Patrick's church on Market street, on the lot where the Palace Hotel now stands. While employed there a church was being built on Mission street, where it now stands. When the basement of the new church was finished the congregation was moved to Mission street, and we worshiped in the basement until the main church was finished. I had one room left to rent where I was on O'Farrell street when one day, to my surprise on answering the bell, Mr. William Kitts of the opera troupe called to rent a room. He was a splendid bass singer and I was greatly surprised to see him, as I had supposed he had left with the company. He wished to rest for a year. He had never seen America and would remain until the troupe returned in another year. He was as fine a man as he was a singer; in fact, all the principals of the troupe were fine people. They were Madam Lucy Escott, the soprano; Henry Squires, tenor; Mr. Baker, the lyric tenor, with a most beautiful voice; and Mr. Kitts, the basso profundo. Before these people went away I sang many times with them in concert. They gave a sacred concert in Pacific Hall, on California street, in 1869. We sang the Trio, te Prago, Escott, Blake, Squires for one number. Madam was so pleased with my singing she kissed me and gave me her copy of the song after writing her name on it. Mr. Squires said it was by far the best combination for the trio that he had ever made. The first time I ever sang this trio was in 1859 in Tremont Temple with Louisa Adams, soprano, Edwin Bruce, tenor, and myself, contralto. Miss Adams was a prima donna of that time. I had always received great praise for my work in this trio.

I remained a year in the house on O'Farrell street, and as I knew I could do better with more rooms I moved into a two-story house on Powell street, near the corner of Broadway, when Mr. Kitts went to Australia. Mr. Blake had returned from Reno and was employed at Main & Winchester's on Sansome street. Mr. Goodwin, the furniture dealer, furnished the house with $1,100 worth of furniture and I began to help lessen the burden already so heavy. Youth was in my favor, being now thirty-four years old. The children were at school and I still held my church position and began to sing at concerts and entertainments. My rooms were filled with the best of roomers and my house brought me in $65 over my rent which was also $65 a month. I had no piano and no place for one, as the children and I slept in the kitchen. I had given up every available room to make the house pay. Mrs. Dr. Howard permitted me to use her piano, so after the work was done I was obliged to walk nine blocks to practice each day. When I thought everything was going all right Mr. Blake began to act strangely. The failure had affected him more than he let me know, and he was so stunned by the blow that he had plunged us into poverty and it weighed so on his mind that Dr. H.L. Baldwin advised a sea voyage. So we wrote to his brother who was in Melbourne to expect him on a certain ship. All was favorable and he sailed away the latter part of 1869. His brain was softening and there was no hope for him if he remained. After weeks of sailing he arrived safely in Melbourne. He so far recovered that he was able to accept a position as expert in the Omnibus railway office which he filled for one year and a half. In the meantime I had been able to pay for all the furniture, through my roomers and singing and sewing, but the large house was too much for me, with sewing until twelve at night, and I concluded to take a smaller house and called on Mr. George Lamson, the auctioneer. He was Nance O'Neil's father and she was then a little girl. I selected what furniture I needed for the house on Washington street and he sold the rest. Four of the best roomers went with me to the new house, so I was sure I'd not fail for awhile at least.



All these months of toil I had received one bill after another from different men and business houses. When they came for money I told them I did not have a dollar, only what I earned, but that if the bills were correct, I would settle them as fast as I could earn the money. I determined to pay all of Mr. Blake's indebtedness, rather than there should be a blot upon his name or honor, and also for the sake of his two sons who had their lives to live. I had been sewing for Mrs. Letitia Ralph, the dressmaker, who gave me the children's clothes to make after she had fitted and basted them up for me. I had my own boys so beautifully clad she wanted to know who made their clothes. She proposed that if I would make the children's clothing she would prepare the work for me. After my work of the day was over and all the family slept I sewed until midnight. After I had moved to Washington street, I bought one of the Ralph charts and perfected myself in the art of cutting and fitting. I had been but two months in the new place when one of my roomers got married, to my sorrow, for that meant another empty room with the two parlors which had never been rented. My heart sank within me for I was doubtful as to the outcome of the new departure. My usual courage left me and I was at my wits' end as to how to continue. As I sat by the machine I realized the situation and I laid my head on the machine and the pent-up tears at last came to my relief. While in this state I felt a presence in the room and on looking up I saw the dear friend of my youth, Mrs. Sue Bird, standing quietly by me, not knowing what to say. It was the first time she had ever seen me in tears through the whole distressing time of the last two or three years. I told her I did not know where to commence and for once in my life I was discouraged. Before she departed our plans were laid and the next day her machine came to the house with a lot of new goods that she wanted to make up for herself and children. We put a machine on each side of the bay window. I made some signs during the day and put them in the windows. We decorated the windows with the new goods, a fish globe, a hanging basket of ferns, a wire model and placed upon it one of my concert dresses. We draped the lace curtains back and the window looked stunning and very businesslike. I arranged my cutting table and had Harper's Bazaar and other fashion plates and Butterick patterns on the shelves. Our signs in the window read: "Children's clothing neatly done and made to order." Our dressmaking parlors were in full swing and in apple-pie order. All we lacked were the customers, so we sat at the machines and sewed until the third day, hoping to have some one come, yet dreading to see them, for fear we would fail in our efforts. We watched people passing all day long, going and coming and stopping to look at the new place. At last, on the fifth day, a lady with a bundle came in at the gate, and my heart beat with excitement. When I opened the door a gentle little woman asked if I was the dressmaker, and I told her yes and bade her enter. She unfolded her bundle and told me what she wanted. I found myself talking and planning as if I had made dresses for a number of years. It was her wedding dress of dove-colored silk and she wanted me to make a dress of it for her twelve-year-old daughter, with an addition of three yards of blue to match. I told her I could make a beautiful child's dress, a very suitable and pretty combination. The next day the girl was measured and the dress began and by the end of the week it was to be tried on. When the dress was done she was so pleased that I did her work as long as I was in the business of dressmaking, which lasted ten years. This was the beginning.

After Mrs. Bird had started me she was obliged to go to her home, so I advertised for a forewoman. The next day I engaged a competent woman, Mrs. Sheek from Nevada. She brought her sewing machine and was well up in the ideas and ways of a shop. She saw right away I was new in the art, but she and I soon understood what was needed. In one month things went with such perfect system we were able to take in all the work that was brought to us. Our window was always dressed and the figure robed in the last garment finished, and we were becoming so popular I was obliged to get more help. Before the year was out I had ten girls constantly employed and three machines running all the time. These were busy days, what with concerts, singing in churches and at funerals, rehearsals, dressmaking and roomers. I also made costumes of singers and actresses who heard of my ability. When singing, my costumes attracted attention and I received many customers who were struck by my gowns. Mrs. P.D. Bowers, the famous actress, sent for me at the Palace and ordered her costumes for Amy Robsart, also other costumes and dominos. Emilie Melville was my customer for her concert and opera robes; so was Mme. Mulder and Mme. Elezer. I made the robes for Signora Bianchi in the opera of "Norma," for Mrs. Tom Breese and Mrs. Nick Kittle. Mrs. Tom Maguire and Mrs. Mark McDonald were regular customers for years. Mrs. Maynard, a wealthy banker's wife, who lived on Bush street, and her daughters justly appreciated my work, and I found in Mrs. Maynard a lifelong friend. I continued in this busy way, always hearing good news of the improvement in my husband in Melbourne. He had been gone now a year and a half and I had received encouraging letters from him and at last he informed me he would come soon and take me and the boys to Melbourne to live. All the time he was gone I had been paying off this tremendous amount of indebtedness of his failure, and keeping it as a secret from him so as to surprise him when he arrived. I was fully established and my church and concert music was all I could ask for. My old spirit came back and I was happy to know I had been able to help my husband through this $30,000 failure which had been such a blow to his pride and ambition and had brought distress to his family. I received a letter that he was coming on a certain steamer, and the boys and I were doing all we could to have the home-coming complete. George was now fifteen years old and William eleven. They had been going to school and had been promoted each year and would have much to tell their father, himself a man of letters and a graduate of Harvard University. His desire was that the boys should excel, as had all the Blakes, Lincolns and Sargents before them.

Each of these old and highly honored families of Massachusetts had celebrated men among them, and they honored their forefathers and tried to emulate their achievements and keep up the literary standard of the Sargents, the military dignity of their great-grandfather, Major Benjamin Lincoln of revolutionary fame, who took the sword from Cornwallis and handed it to his general, George Washington; Eps Sargent, the great writer of books, poetry and the song, "The Life on the Ocean Wave," one of the famous songs of the time. These men were the next of kin, and we were justly proud of the connection and tried to uphold our side of the family honor as well as it was possible for us of this generation to accomplish. The days were counted and each evening we were happy in the recital of our part that was expected of us when father returned. Only a short time remained to us who were awaiting his coming. At last we were rewarded by the arrival of the ship which was expected to bring our father, and the week had nearly passed. On the fourth day a messenger from the ship came with a letter from the captain that George L. Blake was dead and buried, in a foreign land, with honors suitable to the man who had won for himself the respect of all who knew him in the city of Melbourne. The railroad offices were closed, the American flag at half mast, and men with uncovered heads marched behind the hearse that bore the remains of their distinguished member, the American gentleman from California, to his last resting place. Our sorrow was too great to be realized, even after reading the letter from the rector who had read the funeral service over the dead, and who explained the circumstances of his sudden death and told of the sorrow of his comrades and the officers of the company who so honored him in a strange land. He had in a short time won their esteem by his courteous and gentlemanly bearing towards all who came in contact with him.

This was the sad message and the end of our bright hopes for the future. The burden must now be borne alone with two children to educate and this great indebtedness on my own shoulders to pay, until all was done to honor his name and that of his sons. I saw no other way but to work and keep busy. After several days my plans were mapped out and I began to plan how to enlarge my business and still continue with my music. When it became known that this sorrow had come to me, I never lacked for friends, and in a short time I became so busy I had no time to repine. After a year I needed more room, so I removed to 404 Post street, near the corner of Powell, into a cottage belonging to a Mr. Simons. It was nearer town than on Washington and Stockton streets. In a few days work went on as usual. Three of my permanent roomers went with me. For four years I lived here, when Mr. Simons sold the house and I was obliged to vacate. I found small rooms on O'Farrell street and continued my work without cessation until the beginning of 1875. During these years at 404 Post street I sang in the St. John's Presbyterian Church, Post street. The organists during this time were George T. Evans, later Frederick Katzenbach. The singers were: Vernon Lincoln, tenor; Joseph Maguire, tenor; C. Makin, basso; Mrs. Robert Moore, soprano; M.R. Blake, contralto. Later I resigned and went for the second time to St. Patrick's Church and remained there altogether ten years. The organist and director was J.H. Dohrmann. The choir remained the same during that time. We had the best talent that could be obtained and the music we sang was extremely difficult. The sopranos were the best available. Among the singers were:

Mr. Brown, tenor Sig. Bianchi, tenor Sig. G. Mancusi, tenor Karl Formes, basso Sig. Morly, basso Sig. Reuling, baritone Sig. Meize, baritone Mr. Fuchs, basso Mr. Schnable, basso Mr. Stockmyer, basso Mr. Yarndley, basso Miss Louisa Tourney, soprano Mrs. Urig, soprano Mrs. Young, soprano Mrs. Taylor, soprano Mme. Brandel, soprano Signora Bianchi, soprano M.R. Blake, contralto Ella Steel, alto



CHAPTER SEVEN

LADY OF LYONS GIVEN AT SANTA CRUZ. FLAG-RAISING AT GILROY HOT SPRINGS. VISALIA CONCERTS

In 1868, while I was living in Santa Cruz, that city was without any fire-fighting apparatus. The matter had often been discussed, but nothing had come of it. Mrs. Alfred Baldwin, who was prominent there as a school teacher, and her husband, a boot and shoe merchant, conceived the plan of starting a nucleus for a fire engine. I being her neighbor, Mrs. Baldwin naturally talked the matter over with me. Santa Cruz then had some excellent talent to call upon, so we planned to raise the money for an engine if possible. During these days Mrs Elmira Baldwin came from San Francisco to spend the summer with her sister-in-law, Mrs. Baldwin. She was a beautiful woman and talented, and capable of taking a part in anything. We also had a friend of Mr. Baldwin's who was a splendid actor in comedy or tragedy, Mr. I.B. Binney. He was enlisted in the good cause, and through his efforts and Mrs. A. Baldwin's we were enabled to collect all the talent necessary. After the performers were secured, the next question was the form of entertainment. Of course, Mr. Binney was consulted in the matter and we decided to give the "Lady of Lyons," Bulwer's popular and beautiful play. I had always sung my way into public favor, and had never tried the drama. When the part of Widow Melnotte fell to me, I was surprised, to say the least. I was only thirty-eight years old, and the mother of Melnotte was fifty, but after much persuasion I undertook the role. For a month we had a great deal of fun at the rehearsals. It is true I had my home to care for, and it was also fruit-canning season, and I was busy at something all the time, but at my work my part was pinned before me and I was reciting aloud all day long. Had any one come in unannounced he would have thought I had gone stark mad. Sometimes I'd stand in the middle of the kitchen, dishcloth in hand, admonishing Claude not to love Pauline too much, as he was but a gardener's son, etc. At last the rehearsals were finished and Thursday evening, August 27, 1868, at Otto's Hall, the only suitable hall in town at that time, the play was given. Santa Cruz was crowded with visitors and the tickets were sold so rapidly that the house was sold out before the day was over.

The following criticism of the performance is taken from the Santa Cruz Sentinel: "The object of the entertainment being appreciated, the hall, with a seating capacity of 250, was crowded, and promptly at the hour the curtain was raised, displaying a little family coquettishness between Madam Deschappells and her daughter, Pauline. As a matter of course a bouquet of roses was found, and it was queried in all innocence of unsophisticated girlhood as to who could have sent it. This act, Pauline by Mrs. Elmira Baldwin and Madam Deschappells by Mrs. Fannie Baldwin, was well played and at once centered the attention of the audience. Colonel Dumas by I.C. Wilson was far in advance of his former attempts, and Beauseant by Thomas Beck added laurels to his already established reputation as a first-class amateur. Glavis by Master Asa Rawson was rendered in his usual facetious style, creating a universal twitter all around the hall. Mons. Deschappells by Albert Brown was laughable in the extreme, partly from the age of so young a father, as seen through the scarcity of his be-floured locks, and partly from its surroundings. The landlord by B.F. Tucker was up to the mark. Captain Gervais was played by C.W.S. Waldron with dignity and soldierly bearing. Widow Melnotte by Mrs. Margaret Blake was grand and inspiring, and when she displayed the character of a devoted mother many eyes glistened with a tear and many hearts reverted to the days, gone forever, when a mother bent over them with cheeks radiant with smiles of delight. Claude Melnotte by I.B. Binney was excellent and deserving of the greatest praise. Mrs. Elmira Baldwin, in her preference for the supposed prince, in her rage and disappointment when she discovered his true character, and in her determination in the final act to cling to him as the wife of an humble gardener's son, acquitted herself splendidly. Mrs. Fannie Baldwin acted well the part of the haughty and vindictive mother. When Melnotte had returned as military chieftain and was happily united, the curtain fell and the audience slowly dispersed."

Our audience was select and we had many fine comments upon our work, individually. Several professionals were in the audience. It was difficult to make them believe I had never acted before, and they said I could carry that character anywhere and make a success of it. When all expenses were paid we had $80 as a nucleus towards the fire engine. The same was placed at interest, there to remain until called for by proper authority for the purpose for which it was raised. This play was given forty-three years ago. Three of the original characters, to my knowledge, are still living. The curtain of life's drama has been rung down on the other twelve. I have never inquired whether the fire engine was bought, but suppose, after all these years, that Santa Cruz must have several engines. We who live can feel we gave our talents for a good cause. It was rather a peculiar part for a minister's daughter to take, the straight-laced saints suggested, but the minister's daughter smiled, knowing she had helped in a good cause, and she still lives to tell the story of her theatrical achievement in the little town of Santa Cruz, and how the first money was obtained to get a fire engine for the town's safety.

GILROY HOT SPRINGS FLAG RAISING, JULY 18, 1872.

In various times in my life I have assisted at a flag raising. This incident occurred July 18, 1872, when I was on my yearly vacation to Gilroy Hot Springs. The genial host, George Roop, and his excellent wife, Elizabeth, were old friends of mine and they made it a point each year to have me come, generally in July, when many people gathered there. We had passed a very patriotic day on July 4 and the enthusiasm had not yet died out and the decorations were still in evidence. Our days were spent in fishing, playing croquet, in bathing and climbing the mountains. There was one high peak that no one had ever attempted and there was considerable banter between the guests and the proprietor, Roop saying that no one had scaled the peak since he had become proprietor of the springs. Among the guests were several great climbers and one evening we concluded to try, at least, and if we succeeded we were to put up the flag and sing America. It was an ideal morning and we got a good start before the sun rose. Ten of us started. We had but to follow the trail and keep going. We had a small donkey, used to the trail, and our lunch, flag, spade and hatchet and water-can were packed on his saddle, and with a hurrah and a shout we were off. Our spirits were high as we slowly began the ascent. Before we had gone a third of the way some of the party lagged behind. One by one they fell back until only five were left. After we had gone half the distance we rested for a half hour and refreshed ourselves with part of the lunch. Then we journeyed on until we reached the sheep ranch on the top of the peak, a level where you could see for miles over hill and dale. When we looked for Gilroy Springs it seemed miles away. The air was so clear our voices went out like clarion calls. After our dinner we rested while the men hunted a suitable pole. They soon found a tall sapling, chopped off the branches and pointed the butt so it could be driven into the earth, and with spades prepared a place and the tree was planted as near to the edge of the mountain as we dared to work, in a spot where we could see the springs below. About three o'clock in the afternoon the ropes were ready and the flag placed in readiness. Capt. Mehan gave the sign to Dr. Coe and shouted to let her go and in a trice the flag was flung to the breeze and as it went up we began to sing America until the echoes rang far and wide with the refrain and caught the ears of the guests below who shouted and made the welkin ring by "firing off" anvils and making signals to attract our attention. When we knew they had seen the flag and had heard us we stood around the flagstaff and sang the Star Spangled Banner. After the singing we gave three times three cheers for Old Glory and they answered below by three shots and a hurrah for the victors who had bravely put up the flag on the highest peak, 2,659 feet above the level of the sea.

Those who won the victory and helped in the flag raising were Captain Mehan, Dr. Coe, Miss Foltz, Miss Farren and Margaret R. Blake. After the cheering had subsided we prepared for the descent. Our faithful donkey brayed with delight as he trotted off down the hill with a small flag fastened to his bridle. It was almost eight o'clock when we reached the foot of the trail, tired and foot-sore, but happy. As we came in sight we found the guests had formed into a procession, and headed by an impromptu band, arranged for the occasion. From the cooks and waiters they had secured tin pans, tin horns, pot covers for cymbals and other implements for the noisy demonstration. To welcome the victors, wreaths of wild flowers and ferns were thrown over our heads and shoulders and we were placed at the head of the parade and escorted to the hotel porch, where speeches were delivered in welcome and praises for our bravery showered upon us. Afterward we were allowed to retire to the ever welcome sulphur bath, refresh ourselves and rest before dinner. It was late when the call came. On entering the dining room we found a separate table in the center of the room, decorated with flags and blossoms. To this table we were escorted by our host. We did not need the second bidding for we were a hungry five and we were ready for anything prepared for us. After spending a delightful hour partaking of the very best of everything, we adjourned to the parlors and talked over the events of the trip and enjoyed some excellent music which had been prepared for us. At 12 o'clock the gong sounded and the lights were put out. Thus ended the eventful day of our flag raising at Gilroy Hot Springs, July 18, 1872—thirty-nine years ago.

VISALIA CONCERTS.

Walter Campbell, Mr. Anderson, Sam Booth and myself were engaged as soloists for the Visalia concerts that lasted three nights, given under the auspices of the Good Templars of that city. Local talent was used for choruses. We were paid $50 each and all our expenses. When we arrived, December 3, 1878, the city was billed as for a circus. Posters were everywhere, old fashioned stages carrying passengers had posters on each side with our names printed in ten to twelve inch lettering. We were amazed at our popularity and were a jolly quartette. At the rehearsal we discovered some musical folk, capable of interpreting the old-time songs and to our great pleasure and surprise we found we had a fine support to aid us in our quaint songs which had made for us a reputation in our own city. By seven o'clock of the first night the sidewalk was crowded with eager and expectant citizens, waiting with good humor until the time for the opening. Before the concert began the house was filled to overflowing. Promptly at eight the instrumental march began. In the first number it was arranged for all the performers to be on the stage to make a picturesque showing of the costumes. It was many minutes before we were allowed to begin the programme. It was a demonstration to satisfy the ambition of any singer and spur him on to greater things. We were all in the best of voice and with the good will of the audience we carried out the programme without an error, with encores galore.

The second night was a repetition of the vast crowd of enthusiastic people. A surprise was in store for me. Rev. P.Y. Cool stepped upon the platform and informed the audience that when he was pastor of the First Methodist church in Santa Cruz in 1864 I was the solo singer in his church. He said the audience had the opportunity of hearing by far California's best and oldest singer and to his mind the best he ever heard sing sacred songs. He finished by saying that he felt it an honor to hear once more her beautiful voice. Because of the great hit we had made we were asked to give a third performance and to this we agreed. The choruses were the same for the third night as were the character duets between Walter Campbell, Sam Booth, Anderson and me, which were repeated by request. The solos were alone changed. Sarah Walker also repeated her Opinions at the Pastor's Donation Party, causing much merriment that such an old lady could still take part with the younger set, even if she was seemingly eighty years old. The programme came to an end about eleven o'clock, which closed three most successful nights both artistically as well as financially for the cause of temperance in Visalia. On our departure in the morning the committee escorted us to the train and presented us with offerings of autumn flowers and fruits as tokens of their appreciation.