A couple months ago, Charles wrote about the Ada Hancock explosion, and how the actual incident has become a silly treasure hunting tale. I followed up with a post about one of the actual consequences, if you will, of the Ada Hancock accident. Neve mind fake treasure: an historian finds wealth in boring stuff like changes in laws.
To recap, the Ada Hancock was a 42-ton steam tug in Los Angeles harbor. On April 27, 1863, the boat exploded in transit, killing or injuring 46 people. Both Wells Fargo's agent and messenger lost their lives.
George F. Hooper was aboard as well, and a large part of the treasure that was lost in the explosion was his. Hooper was a Fort Yuma, California merchant and a good customer of Wells Fargo. (He was also future member of the Wells Fargo family, founding the First National Gold Bank of San Francisco, which eventually joined Wells Fargo in 1986 after a history of various mergers.) As I wrote earlier, he sued Wells Fargo for the loss of about $11,000 worth of gold that approached 40 pounds in weight.
In court papers, Hooper’s attorney Hall McAllister
detailed just how special Wells Fargo’s service was. (McAllister used the technical term “bailee,” from the verb “to bail.”
A Bailee takes charge of goods for a special purpose and returns them when he completes the task.) Express companies, McAllister wrote,
are paid, not in order to commit to others for transportation the thing being bailed to themselves, but that they may carry and deliver it. They receive a higher freight than ordinary bailees, because they profess to exercise a closer custody of, a more special supervision over the goods entrusted to them than does the ordinary carrier. (my emphasis.)
Furthermore,
the packages bailed to them are generally of small bulk, but of great value; they remain during the entire transportation in the personal charge of the express messenger, and their delivery is made, not at the wharf or warehouse, as in the case of ordinary goods, but specially by the express employee at the office or residence of the consignee.
McAllister pointed out Wells Fargo's outstanding personal service, even as he was using it for the purposes suing us! The California Supreme Court accepted the argument and the Company had to make good on the loss.
Interestingly, the reasoning behind the Court's decision that cost the Company $11,000 is the very integrity that made Wells Fargo's reputation! Because the Company took such personal care of its business, any shipment was our absolute responsibility. Wells Fargo accepted that responsibility because anything less, even in the face of losses, was sub-standard.
A couple months ago, Charles wrote about the Ada Hancock explosion, the truth of which has been skewed by legend. While he gave the corrected side of the story, there's a more practical piece of history that resulted from that incident — it's legal and meant something to lawyers at the time, which is probably why people changed the story and focused on treasure instead!
On the evening of April 27, 1863, the shallow draft
steam tug left the Los Angeles harbor wharf and headed to the coastal steamer Senator. Aboard were Phineas Banning
, the mercantile and transportation entrepreneur who owned the town of Wilmington
and who also represented Wells Fargo; his brother-in-law William T.B. Sanford, company accountant and assistant Wells Fargo agent; and Wells Fargo messenger William C. Ritchie, in charge of an iron treasure box containing $10,755 in gold dust and bullion from the Colorado River mines. There were 50 other passengers and the crew.
A sudden squall struck the Ada Hancock, heeling her over. Cold water contacted hot iron and the boilers exploded, killing 26 people outright. Among the dead were Sanford and Ritchie, while the force blew an injured Banning clear of the boat. Only seven persons aboard escaped injury from an accident the Coroner's Jury declared to be "entirely attributable to the overpowering force of the elements."
A Fort Yuma
merchant named George F. Hooper
lost his gold and sued Wells Fargo, though the Company denied culpability. In fact, California Supreme Court Justice Lorenzo Sawyer
affirmed: "There was evidence tending to prove, that the explosion was caused by the carelessness of the engineer, and other officers."
But in March, 1865, the Court upheld Hooper's claim. (Hooper v. Wells Fargo, 27 Cal. 11-49.) Thereafter, Wells Fargo's receipts added a disclaimer: The Company, "not owning or being interested in the means or vehicles of transportation," would not be liable for accidents caused by "the negligence or misconduct" of carriers.
Within 18 months, that would change when Wells Fargo established its Great Overland Mail Stagecoach line across the country.
Here's the kind of thing drives a Historian batty.
Open this link
and scroll WAAAAAAAAAAAY down to down to the paragraph just above the SS Senator image to the paragraph that begins, "The American businessmen and creditors who foreclosed on Vejar's land..."
Read the next few paragraphs, through "To this day, the $125,000 in gold has yet to be found and is somewhere at the bottom of the Los Angeles Harbor." This tale is a myth created by treasure hunters.
The Historical Society has done a fine job of giving a detailed account of the community's origins. The story they tell is compelling, but the section about the Ada Hancock and Wells Fargo people aboard her is not from genuine historical records. The whole thing is a fantasy.
The historical record finds the Ada Hancock explosion
was an accident. But when you read treasure hunter accounts of the incident, with the addition of a mystery-laden 125 G's, the sources they refer to are works by treasure hunters about treasure hunting.
There is little merit to the speculation, if any, that I can find in authentic sources. Merit requires real, substantive historical work — original documents cited, archives accessed and archaeological finds consulted. Learning how to do these things requires training and practice, and having other Historians looking over your work to challenge just about everything. History as vocation has definite standards to ensure the most accurate account possible.
With treasure hunting yarns
, one guy writes it and inspires dreams of gleaming riches discovered in an afternoon of scuba diving. Dreams make the speculation "fact" because we all want it to be. Fabulous tales become the actual story.
Well, it ain't actual. It's fabulous, sure, but it's still a tale.
The long Ada Hancock section is about a guy named Schlesinger and his 1863 adventures with the foreclosure of Rancho San José
in Southern California. There's an ambush and murder, and a subsequent gun battle with Wells Fargo employee William Ritchie.
Schlesinger is wrongly identified — he was not a Wells Fargo Agent. There were no offices in that area before the 1870s anyway, save Los Angeles proper. (Wells Fargo's Agent there was H.N. Alexander.) William Ritchie was, in fact, a well-respected Wells Fargo Messenger, whose task was to protect treasure. And Wells Fargo did have a money shipment on board, as steamers were the principal means of transportation before the transcontinental railroad.
But remember, the ship exploded, blowing the cash to smithereens. Only 7 of the 53 on board were unharmed — our man William Ritchie was killed.
That's the main thing treasure hunters should weigh, before they start weighing the treasure chest of their daydreams.
Last week's post on steamers prompted this elaboration by Steve Greenwood, our Curator at Wells Fargo's Portland History Exhibit. (CR)
Steamers were a vital part
of the Pacific Northwest's economy, and the discovery of gold
in Oregon, Idaho and Montana in 1860 and 1861 advanced trade on the Columbia and Willamette rivers. Portland's location at the confluence of the Willamette and Columbia established it as the shipping center for the Pacific Northwest and an ideal hub for Wells Fargo's express business.
(Steamboats
were smaller steam-powered boats that traveled on lakes and rivers, while steamships
generally referred to larger steam-powered oceangoing vessels that gradually replaced sailing ships during the 19th century. By the second half of the 20th century, diesel-powered ships had replaced steamships.)
Incoming steamships delivered eagerly awaited family and friends, letters from loved ones, packages, and the latest news from "the States." "I hear the old Steamer Gun," a woman recorded with anticipation in 1863, "and I wonder if I shall get a letter in the morning. That is what I always think when I hear it." Northbound steamships called at Crescent City, Astoria, Portland, and Victoria, British Columbia. Steamships took 3½ days to sail from San Francisco to Portland, and Wells Fargo's express messengers traveled onboard and guarded packages, mail, and millions in gold. Once underway, messengers inventoried express items, checked shipping documents and waybills, and sorted letters and business documents for immediate delivery.
No one knew when the steamship would dock—except at night somewhere between 9 p.m. and 4 a.m. Wells Fargo's agent for Portland, Eugene Shelby, recalled: "The greater part of steamer night found us all waiting at the office, and generally little sleep was secured on those occasions." The Wells Fargo messenger hauled the express to the office and readied it for morning delivery.
Wells Fargo also took to the rivers. Steamboats plied the waters 13 miles south from Portland to Oregon City and then 125 miles to Eugene. Steamboat travel on the Willamette began in the 1850s with routes both above and below Willamette Falls at Oregon City
. By the 1860s, early steamboat companies portaged people and goods around the waterfalls on a primitive road and wooden rail system. Built in 1873, the Willamette Falls Locks
enabled steamboats to travel between Portland and Eugene without portaging. By 1882, the Oregon Railway and Navigation Co. had 16 gleaming white steamers on the Willamette and ran steamboats to Eugene until 1916.
In 1861, the rush to Idaho improved traffic on the Columbia with the Oregon Steam Navigation Co.
carrying about 10,500 passengers in 1861, 36,000 just three years later. Steamboats carried gold from Lewiston, Idaho, down the Columbia to Portland, where ocean steamships hurried it to San Francisco. At each stage, a Wells Fargo messenger was aboard. From 1863 to 1867, Wells Fargo annually transported about 5 million dollars of gold out of Oregon and Idaho; from 1877 to 1879, Wells Fargo annually shipped 7 million dollars in gold.
By the time gold mining dwindled, wheat grown in the fertile soils of eastern Oregon became a "golden" substitute. Wheat, bran and other farm products also were transported from Willamette Valley towns to Portland for shipping to California, the East Coast, the Columbia Plateau
, and even Europe. This later "gold" strike helped Portland maintain its position as the dominant shipping center in the Pacific Northwest to the end of the 19th century.
In the 19th century, roads were rough and railroad tracks were sparse. Steamships provided vital transportation of passengers and goods up and down the West Coast.
Regular steamers departed San Francisco south for Monterey, San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, San Pedro, Anaheim Landing, San Diego and ports in Mexico and Central America. Northbound steamers called at Crescent City, Astoria, Portland and Victoria, British Columbia. In 1870, the steamer journey from San Francisco to San Pedro (the harbor serving Los Angeles) took 48 hours. In comparison, traveling to the same destination
by rail and stagecoach took 60 hours.
Wells Fargo express messengers sailed aboard these coastal steamers, guarding the mail, gold and valuable packages. Once underway, messengers inventoried express items and checked shipping documents and waybills. They sorted letters and business documents for immediate delivery. Messengers inspected sealed containers of gold dust and bullion to prevent tampering.
Wells Fargo's most well-known steamer messenger on the coastal route was Pilsbury "Chips" Hodgkins, who over his long career escorted millions of dollars in gold and money. Chips earned his nickname as a ship's carpenter
on the way to the California gold rush. Chips escorted Wells Fargo's treasure boxes from the mining camps to the inland port of Stockton, to San Francisco, and up and down the coast. In 1871 Chips' steamer dropped anchor at San Pedro Harbor
in Southern California in the midst of a gale. Undaunted by heavy seas, Chips rowed ashore in a small boat to deliver the consignments on time.
For his long service, Chips was rewarded with a banquet and miniature treasure box made of silver. Chips Hodgkins worked for Wells Fargo for more than 25 years. In all that time, through all those voyages, he never lost a penny.
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