A Backward Glance at Eighty Part 10

There was a time when about the only thing we could boast was that we spent a _less_ sum per capita than any city in the Union for the care of hospital patients. I remember hearing that fine citizen, Frederick Dohrmann, once say, "Every supervisor who has gone out of public service leaving our old County Hospital standing is guilty of a munic.i.p.al crime." It was a disgrace of which we were ashamed. The fire had spared the building, but the new supervisors did not. We now have one of the best hospitals in the country, admirably conducted.

Our City Prison is equally reversed. It was our shame; it is our pride.

The old Almshouse was a discreditable asylum for the politician who chanced to superintend it. Today our "Relief Home" is a model for the country. In 1906 the city was destroyed because unprotected against fire. Today we are as safe as a city can be. In the meantime the reduced cost of insurance pays insured citizens a high rate of interest on the cost of our high-pressure auxiliary fire system. Our streets were once noted for their poor construction and their filthy condition. Recently an informed visitor has p.r.o.nounced them the best to be found. We had no creditable boulevards or drives. Quietly and without bond expenditure we have constructed magnificent examples. Our school buildings were shabby and poor. Many now are imposing and beautiful.

This list could be extended; but turn for a moment to matters of manners. Where are the awful corner-groceries that helped the saloons to ruin men and boys, and where are the busy nickel-in-the-slot machines and shameless smokers in the street-cars? Where are the sellers of lottery tickets, where the horse-races and the open gambling?

It was my fortune to be re-elected for eight years. Sometimes I am impressed by how little I seem to have individually accomplished in this long period of time. One effect of experience is to modify one's expectations. It is not nearly so easy to accomplish things as one who has not tried is apt to imagine. Reforming is not an easy process.

Inertia is something really to be overcome, and one is often surprised to find how obstinate majorities can be. Initiative is a rare faculty and an average legislator must be content to follow. One can render good service sometimes by what he prevents. Again, he may finally fail in some good purpose through no fault of his own, and yet win something even in losing. Early in my term I was convinced that one thing that ought to be changed was our absurd liquor license. We had by far the lowest tax of any city in the Union, and naturally had the largest number of saloons. I tried to have the license raised from eighty-four dollars to one thousand dollars, hoping to reduce our twenty-four hundred saloons. I almost succeeded. When I failed the liquor interest was so frightened at its narrow escape that it led the people to adopt a five-hundred-dollar subst.i.tute.

I was led to undertake the correction of grave abuses and confusion in the naming of the city streets. The post-office authorities were greatly hampered in the mail delivery by the duplicate use of names. The dignified word "avenue" had been conferred on many alleys. A commission worked diligently and efficiently. One set of numbered streets was eliminated. The names of men who had figured in the history of the city were given to streets bearing their initials. Anza, Balboa, and Cabrillo gave meaning to A, B, and C. We gave Columbus an avenue, Lincoln a "way," and subst.i.tuted for East Street the original name of the waterfront, "The Embarcadero." In all we made more than four hundred changes and corrections.

There were occasional humorous incidents connected with this task. There were opposition and prejudice against names offered. Some one proposed a "St. Francis Boulevard." An apparently intelligent man asked why we wanted to perpetuate the name of "that old pirate." I asked, "Who do you think we have in mind?" He replied, "I suppose you would honor Sir Francis Drake." He seemed never to have heard of Saint Francis of a.s.sisi.

It was predicted that the Taylor administration with its excellent record would be continued, but at the end of two years it went down to defeat and the Workingmen's party, with P.H. McCarthy as mayor, gained strong control. For two years, as a minority member, I enjoyed a different but interesting experience. It involved some fighting and preventive effort; but I found that if one fought fairly he was accorded consideration and opportunity. I introduced a charter amendment that seemed very desirable, and it found favor. The charter prescribed a two-year term for eighteen supervisors and their election each alternate year. Under the provision it was possible to have every member without experience. By making the term four years and electing nine members every other year experience was a.s.sured, and the ballot would be half the length, a great advantage. It had seemed wise to me to allow the term of the mayor to remain two years, but the friends of Mayor McCarthy were so confident of his re-election that they insisted on a four-year term. As so amended the matter went to the people and was adopted. At the following election Mayor James Rolph, Jr., was elected for four years, two of which were an unintentional gift of his political opponents.

I served for four years under the energetic Rolph, and they were fruitful ones. Most of the plans inaugurated by the Taylor board were carried out, and materially the city made great strides. The Exposition was a revelation of what was possible, and of the City Hall and the Civic Center we may well be proud.

Some of my supervisorial experiences were trying and some were amusing.

Discussion was often relieved by rare bits of eloquence and surprising use of language. p.r.o.nunciation was frequently original and unprecedented. Amazing ignorance was unconcealed and the gift of gab was unrestrained. Nothing quite equaled in fatal facility a progress report made by a former member soon after his debut: "We think we shall soon be able to bring chaos out of the present disorder, now existing." On one of our trips of investigation the City Engineer had remarked on the watershed. One of the members later cornered him and asked "Where is the watershed?" expecting to be shown a building that had escaped his attention.

A pleasant episode of official duty early in Rolph's term was an a.s.signment to represent the city at a national munic.i.p.al congress at Los Angeles. We were called upon, in connection with a study of munic.i.p.al art, to make an exhibit of objects of beauty or ornament presented to the city by its citizens. We felt that San Francisco had been kindly dealt with, but were surprised at the extent and variety of the gifts.

Enlarged sepia photographs of structures, monuments, bronzes, statuary, and memorials of all kinds were gathered and framed uniformly. There were very many, and they reflected great credit and taste. Properly inscribed, they filled a large room in Los Angeles and attracted much attention. Interest was enhanced by the cleverness of the young woman in charge. The general t.i.tle of the collection was "Objects of Art Presented by its Citizens to the City of San Francisco." She left a s.p.a.ce and over a conspicuous panel printed the inscription "Objects of Art Presented by its Citizens to the City of Los Angeles." The panel was empty. The ordinarily proud city had nothing to show.

Moses at Pisgah gazed upon the land he was not to enter. My Pisgah was reached at the end of 1916. My halls of service were temporary. The new City Hall was not occupied until just after I had found my political Moab; the pleasure of sitting in a hall which is p.r.o.nounced the most beautiful in America was not for me.

As I look back upon varied public service, I am not clear as to its value; but I do not regret having tried to do my part. My practical creed was never to seek and never to decline opportunity to serve. I feel that the effort to do what I was able to do hardly justified itself; but it always seemed worth trying, and I do not hold myself responsible for results. I am told that in parts of California infinitesimal diatoms form deposits five thousand feet in thickness. If we have but little to give we cannot afford not to give it.

CHAPTER VIII

AN INVESTMENT

On the morning of October 18, 1850, there appeared in San Francisco's morning paper the following notice:

RELIGIOUS INTELLIGENCE There will be Religious Services (Unitarian) on Sunday Morning next, October 20th, at Simmons' Athenaeum Hall.

Entrance on Commercial and Sacramento Streets. A Discourse will be preached by Rev. Charles A. Farley.

San Francisco at this time was a community very unlike any known to history. Two years before it is said to have numbered eight hundred souls, and two years before that about two hundred. During the year 1849, perhaps thirty thousand men had come from all over the world, of whom many went to the mines. The directory of that year contained twenty-five hundred names. By October, 1850, the population may have been twenty thousand. They were scattered thinly over a hilly and rough peninsula, chaparral-covered but for drifting sand and with few habitable valleys. From Pacific to California streets and from Dupont to the bay was the beginning of the city's business. A few streets were graded and planked. Clay Street stretched up to Stockton. To the south mountains of sand filled the present Market Street, and protected by them nestled Happy Valley, reaching from First to Third streets and beyond Mission. In 1849 it was a city of tents. Wharves were pushing out into the bay. Long Wharf (Commercial Street) reached deep water about where Drumm Street now crosses it.

Among the motley argonauts were a goodly number of New Englanders, especially from Boston and Maine. Naturally some of them were Unitarians. It seems striking that so many of them were interested in holding services. They had all left "home" within a year or so, and most of them expected to go back within two years with their respective fortunes. When it was learned that a real Unitarian minister was among them, they arranged for a service. The halls of the period were west of Kearny Street in Sacramento and California. They secured the Athenaeum and gave notice in the _Alta California_.

It is significant that the day the notice appeared proved to be historical. The steamer "Oregon" was due, and it was hoped she would bring the news of favorable action by Congress on the application of California to be admitted into the Union. When in the early forenoon the steamer, profusely decorated with bunting, rounded Clark's Point a.s.surance was given, and by the time she landed at Commercial and Drumm the town was wild with excitement.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THOMAS STARR KING. SAN FRANCISCO, 1860-1864]

Eastern papers sold readily at a dollar a copy. All day and night impromptu celebrations continued. Unnumbered silk hats (commonly worn by professional men and leading merchants) were demolished and champagne flowed freely. It should be remembered that thirty-nine days had elapsed since the actual admission, but none here had known it.

The Pilgrim Yankees must have felt like going to church now that California was a part of the Union and that another free state had been born. At any rate, the service conducted by Rev. Charles A. Farley was voted a great success. One man had brought a service-book and another a hymnbook. Four of the audience volunteered to lead the singing, while another played an accompaniment on the violin. After the services twenty-five men remained to talk things over, and arranged to continue services from week to week. On November 17, 1850, "The First Unitarian Church of San Francisco" was organized, Captain Frederick W. Macondray being made the first Moderator.

Mr. Farley returned to New England in April, 1851, and services were suspended. Then occurred two very serious fires, disorganizing conditions and compelling postponement. It was more than a year before an attempt was made to call another minister.

In May, 1852, Rev. Joseph Harrington was invited to take charge of the church. He came in August and began services under great promise in the United States District Court building. A few weeks later he was taken alarmingly ill, and died on November 2d. It was a sad blow, but the society withstood it calmly and voted to complete the building it had begun in Stockton Street, near Sacramento. Rev. Frederic T. Gray, of Bulfinch Street Chapel, Boston, under a leave of absence for a year, came to California and dedicated the church on July 1, 1853. This was the beginning of continuous church services. On the following Sunday, Pilgrim Sunday-school was organized.

Mr. Gray, a kind and gentle soul, rendered good service in organizing the activities of the church. He was succeeded by Rev. Rufus P. Cutler, of Portland, Maine, a refined, scholarly man, who served for nearly five years. He resigned and sailed for New York in June, 1859. During his term the Sunday-school prospered under the charge of Samuel L. Lloyd.

Rev. J.A. Buckingham filled the pulpit for ten months preceding April 28, 1860, when Thomas Starr King arrived. The next day Mr. King faced a congregation that crowded the church to overflowing and won the warm and enthusiastic regard of all, including many new adherents. With a winning personality, eloquent and brilliant, he was extraordinarily attractive as a preacher and as a man. He had great gifts and he was profoundly in earnest--a kindly, friendly, loving soul.

In 1861 I planned to pa.s.s through the city on Sunday with the possibility of hearing him. The church was crowded. I missed no word of his wonderful voice. He looked almost boyish, but his eyes and his bearing proclaimed him a man, and his word was thrilling. I heard him twice and went to my distant home with a blessed memory and an enlarged ideal of the power of a preacher. Few who heard him still survive, but a woman of ninety-three years who loves him well vividly recalls his second service that led to a friendship that lasted all his life.

In his first year he accomplished wonders for the church. He had felt on coming that in a year he should return to his devoted people in the Hollis Street Church of Boston. But when Fort Sumter was fired upon he saw clearly his appointed place. He threw himself into the struggle to hold California in the Union. He lectured and preached everywhere, stimulating patriotism and loyalty. He became a great national leader and the most influential person on the Pacific Coast. He turned California from a doubtful state to one of solid loyalty. Secession defeated, he accomplished wonders for the Sanitary Commission.

A large part of 1863 he gave to the building of the beautiful church in Geary street near Stockton. It was dedicated in January, 1864. He preached in it but seven Sundays, when he was attacked with a malady which in these days is not considered serious but from which he died on March 4th, confirming a premonition that he would not live to the age of forty. He was very deeply mourned. It was regarded a calamity to the entire community. To the church and the denomination the loss seemed irreparable.

To Dr. Henry W. Bellows, of New York, the acknowledged Unitarian leader, was entrusted the selection of the one to fill the vacant pulpit. He knew the available men and did not hesitate. He notified Horatio Stebbins, of Portland, Maine, that he was called by the great disaster to give up the parish he loved and was satisfied to serve and take the post of the fallen leader on the distant sh.o.r.e.

Dr. Bellows at once came to San Francisco to comfort the bereaved church and to prepare the way for Mr. Stebbins, who in the meantime went to New York to minister to Dr. Bellows' people in his absence.

It was during the brief and brilliant ministry of Dr. Bellows that good fortune brought me to San Francisco.

Dr. Bellows was a most attractive preacher, persuasive and eloquent. His word and his manner were so far in advance of anything to which I was accustomed that they came as a revelation of power and beauty. I was entranced, and a new world of thought and feeling opened before me. Life itself took on a new meaning, and I realized the privilege offered in such a church home. I joined without delay, and my connection has been uninterrupted from that day to this. For over fifty-seven years I have missed few opportunities to profit by its services. I speak of it not in any spirit of boasting, but in profound grat.i.tude. Physical disability and absence from the city have both been rare. In the absence of reasons I have never felt like offering excuses.

Early in September, Horatio Stebbins and family arrived from New York, and Dr. Bellows returned to his own church. The installation of the successor of Starr King was an impressive event. The church building that had been erected by and for King was a beautiful and commodious building, but it would not hold all the people that sought to attend the installation of the daring man who came to take up the great work laid down by the preacher-patriot. He was well received, and a feeling of relief was manifest. The church was still in strong hands and the traditions would be maintained.

On September 9th Dr. Stebbins stood modestly but resolutely in the pulpit so sanctified by the memory of King. Few men have faced sharper trials and met them with more serenity and apparent lack of consciousness. It was not because of self-confidence or of failure to recognize what was before him. He knew very well what was implied in following such a man as Starr King, but he was so little concerned with anything so comparatively unimportant as self-interest or so unessential as personal success that he was unruffled and calm. He indulged in no illusion of filling Mr. King's place. He stood on his own feet to make his own place, and to do his own work in his own way, with such results as came, and he was undisturbed.

Toward the end of his life he spoke of always having preached from the level of his own mind. It was always true of him. He never strained for effect, or seemed unduly concerned for results. In one of his prayers he expresses his deep philosophy of life: "Help us, each one in his place, in the place which is providentially allotted to us in life, to act well our part, with consecrated will, with pure affection, with simplicity of heart--to do our duty, and to leave the rest to G.o.d." It was wholly in that spirit that Dr. Stebbins took up the succession of Thomas Starr King.

Personally, I was very glad to renew my early admiration for Mr.

Stebbins, who had chosen his first parish at Fitchburg, adjoining my native town, and had always attracted me when he came to exchange with our minister. He was a strong, original, manly character, with great endowments of mind and heart. He was to enjoy a remarkable ministry of over thirty-five years and endear himself to all who knew him. He was a great preacher and a great man. He inspired confidence, and was broad and generous. He served the community as well as his church, being especially influential in promoting the interests of education. He was a kindly and helpful man, and he was not burdened by his large duties and responsibilities, he was never hurried or hara.s.sed. He steadily pursued his placid way and built up a really great influence. He was, above all else, an inspirer of steadfast faith. With a great capacity for friendship, he was very generous in it, and was indulgent in judgment of those he liked. I was a raw and ignorant young man, but he opened his great heart to me and treated me like an equal. Twenty years difference in years seemed no barrier. He was fond of companionship in his travels, and I often accompanied him as he was called up and down the coast. In 1886 I went to the Boston May Meeting in his company and found delight in both him and it. He was a good traveler, enjoying the change of scene and the contact with all sorts of people. He was courteous and friendly with strangers, meeting them on their own ground with sympathy and understanding.

In his own home he was especially happy, and it was a great privilege to share his table-talk and hospitality, for he had a great fund of kindly humor and his speech was bright with homely metaphor and apt allusions.

Not only was he a great preacher, he was a leader, an inspirer, and a provoker of good.

What it meant to fall under the influence of such a man cannot be told.

Supplementing the blessing was the a.s.sociation with a number of the best of men among the church adherents. Hardly second to the great and unearned friendship of Dr. Stebbins was that of Horace Davis, ten years my senior, and very close to Dr. Stebbins in every way. He had been connected with the church almost from the first and was a firm friend of Starr King. Like Dr. Stebbins, he was a graduate of Harvard. Scholarly, and also able in business, he typified sound judgment and common sense, was conservative by nature, but fresh and vigorous of mind. He was active in the Sunday-school. We also were a.s.sociated in club life and as fellow directors of the Lick School. Our friendship was uninterrupted for more than fifty years. I had great regard for Mrs. Davis and many happy hours were pa.s.sed in their home. Her interpretation of Beethoven was in my experience unequaled.

It is impossible even to mention the many men of character and conscience who were a helpful influence to me in my happy church life.

Captain Levi Stevens was very good to me; C. Adolphe Low was one of the best men I ever knew; I had unbounded respect for Horatio Frost; Dr.

Henry Gibbons was very dear to me; and Charles R. Bishop I could not but love. These few represent a host of n.o.ble a.s.sociates. I would I could mention more of them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HORATIO STEBBINS. SAN FRANCISCO, 1864-1900]

We all greatly enjoyed the meetings of a Shakespeare Club that was sustained for more than twelve consecutive years among congenial friends in the church. We read half a play every other week, devoting the latter part of the evening to impromptu charades, in which we were utterly regardless of dignity and became quite expert.

At our annual picnics we joined in the enjoyment of the children. I recall my surprise and chagrin at having challenged Mr. Davis to a footrace at Belmont one year, giving him distance as an age handicap, and finding that I had overestimated the advantage of ten years difference.