Green Versus Gold

Sources In California's Environmental History

Carolyn Merchant

• Publisher: Island Press
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN: 9781559635806, 9781559635790
• eBook ISBN: 9781610912754
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: North American History
• Index: History

While the state of California remains one of the most striking and varied landscapes in the world, it has experienced monumental changes since European settlers first set foot there. The past two centuries have witnessed an ongoing struggle between environment and economy, nature and humanity that has left an indelible mark on the region.

Green Versus Gold provides a compelling look at California's environmental history from its Native American past to conflicts and movements of recent decades. Acclaimed environmental historian Carolyn Merchant has brought together a vast storehouse of primary sources and interpretive essays to create a comprehensive picture of the history of ecological and human interactions in one of the nation's most diverse and resource-rich states.

For each chapter, Merchant has selected original documents that give readers an eyewitness account of specific environments and periods, along with essays from leading historians, geographers, scientists, and other experts that provide context and analysis for the documents. In addition, she presents a list of further readings of both primary and secondary sources. Among other topics, chapters examine:

California's natural environment and Native American lands the Spanish and Russian frontiers environmental impacts of the gold rush the transformation of forests and rangelands agriculture and irrigation cities and urban issues the rise of environmental science and contemporary environmental movement.

Merchant's informed and well-chosen selections present a unique view of decades of environmental change and controversy. Historians, educators, environmentalists, writers, students, scientists, policy makers, and others will find the book an enlightening and important contribution to the debate over our nation's environmental history.

Chapter 1

CALIFORNIA’S NATURAL ENVIRONMENT

DOCUMENTS

Sarah Royce Encounters the Sierra Nevada, 1849

The great Sierra Nevada Mountains were still all before us, and we had many miles to make, up this [Carson] River, before the ascent was fairly begun.... All the clothing and personal conveniences we had in the world were in our wagon, and we had neither a sufficient number of sound animals nor those of the right kind, to pack them across the mountains. So the only way was to try to keep on. But it looked like rather a hopeless case when, for this whole day, we advanced but a few miles. The next morning, Friday the 12th of October, we set out once more. . . .

We were now so near the foot of the hills that we could distinctly see a stretch of road leading down a very steep incline to where we were moving so laboriously along. Presently at the head of this steep incline appeared two horsemen, clad in loose, flying garments that flapped, like wings on each side of them, while their broad-brimmed hats blown up from their foreheads, revealed hair and faces that belonged to no Indians.

From Sarah Royce, A Frontier Lady (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1932), pp. 61, 62—67, 68—69, 72—73. Reprinted by permission.

Their rapidity of motion and the steepness of the descent gave a strong impression of coming down from above, and the thought flashed into my mind, “They look heaven-sent.” As they came nearer we saw that each of them led by a halter a fine mule, and the perfect ease with which all the animals cantered down that steep, was a marvel in our eyes. My husband and myself were at the heads of the lead cattle, and our little Mary was up in the front of the wagon, looking with wonder at the approaching forms.

As they came near they smiled and then said “Well sir, you are the man we are after!” “How can that be?” said my husband, with surprise. “Yes, sir,” continued the stranger, “you and your wife, and that little girl, are what brought us as far as this. You see we belong to the Relief Company sent out by order of the United States Government to help the late emigrants over the mountains. We were ordered only as far as Truckee Pass. When we got there we met a little company that had just got in. They’d been in a snow storm at the summit; most got froze to death themselves, lost some of their cattle, and just managed to get to where some of our men had fixed a relief camp. There was a woman and some children with them. . . . And she kept at me so, I couldn’t get rid of her. You see I’ve got a wife and little girl of my own; so I felt just how it was; and I got this man to come with me and here we are, to give you more to eat, if you want it, let you have these two mules, and tell you how to get right over the mountains the best and quickest way. . . .

Having made their hasty explanation, our new friends advised us to keep on some little distance farther, to a point where there was a spring in the hills, and excellent camping, to which they would guide us. There we were to rest the remainder of the day, while they would help to select, put into proper shape and pack, everything in the wagon that could be packed. The rest we must be content to leave. As we moved leisurely on to our camping place, they explained more fully the details of our situation—which they understood so much better than we could—and told us what we were to do. There had been two nights of snow storm at the summit: had there come much more they could not have got through. But the weather had cleared, the snow was fast going off the roads as they came over; and, if no other storm occurred, the pass would be in good order when we reached it. But we must hasten with all possible dispatch, for, when the storms once again set in, they were not likely at that season to give any more chance for crossing the mountains. As to keeping on with the wagon, even supposing the cattle to grow no weaker than now, it would take us two weeks at the least to ascend the Carson Valley to the canon. That canon could not in several places be traversed by wheels. Wagons had been taken through; but only by taking them apart and packing, at the most difficult points; which of course could only be done by strong companies with plenty of time. Our only hope, therefore, was to pack. They then went farther into details about packing. The oxen, they said, could easily be made to carry, each, two moderate sized bundles, if snugly packed and well fastened on. Then the old horse could carry something though not very much. And the mule the young men had brought along, they said must carry most of the provisions. . . .

The programme for the afternoon was successfully carried out. Every thing was arranged for an early morning start; and, at night I lay down to sleep for the last time in the wagon that had proved such a shelter for months past. I remembered well, how dreary it had seemed, on the first night of our journey (which now looked so long ago) to have only a wagon for shelter. Now we were not going to have even that. But, never mind, if we might only reach in safety the other foot of the mountains, all these privations would in their turn look small; and the same rich Providence that had led, and was still so kindly leading us, would, in that new land, perhaps, show us better things than we had seen yet.

So, when morning came, I hailed it with cheerful hope, though with some misgivings because I had not ridden horseback for several years, and, whenever I had it had been with side-saddle, and all the usual equipments for lady’s riding, and, certainly, with no baby to carry. Now, I was to have only a common Spanish saddle, I must have Mary in front of me, and, it turned out, that several things needed for frequent use would have to be suspended from the pommel of my saddle, in a satchel on one side and a little pail on the other. At first, I was rather awkward, and so afraid Mary would get hurt, that at uneven places in the road I would ask my husband to get up and take her, while I walked. But in a few hours this awkwardness wore off; and the second day of our new style of traveling I rode twenty-five miles, only alighting once or twice for a brief time. Our friends, the government men, had left us the morning we left our wagon; taking the road to the Truckee, where they felt themselves emphatically “due,” considering their orders. I have more than once since wished I could see and thank them again; for . . . only ten days after we crossed the summit, the mountains were all blocked with snow, and the stormiest winter California had known for years was fully set in. . . .

On the 17th of October we reached the head of Carson Valley, and, just after noon, entered the great canon. Here the road soon became so rough and steep as to make it very difficult for me to hold Mary and keep my seat. The men had hard work to drive the cattle and mules over the boulders at the frequent crossing of the stream, and in between the great masses of rock where the trail sometimes almost disappeared. As the canon narrowed, the rocky walls towered nearly perpendicular, hundreds of feet; and seemed in some places almost to meet above our heads. At some of the crossings it was well nigh impossible to keep the trail, so innumerable were the boulders; and the scraggy bushes so hid the coming-out place. The days were shortening fast, and, in this deep gulch, darkness began to come on early. . . .

That night we slept within a few yards of snow, which lay in a ravine; and water froze in our pans not very far from the fire, which, however, was rather low the last part of the night. But the morning was bright and sunny. “Hope sprang exultant”; for, that day, that blessed 19th of October, we were to cross the highest ridge, view the “promised land,” and begin our descent into warmth and safety. So, without flinching I faced steeps still steeper than yesterday: I even laughed in my little one’s upturned face, as she lay back against my arm, while I leaned forward almost to the neck of the mule, tugging up the hardest places. I had purposely hastened, that morning, to start ahead of the rest; and not far from noon, I was rewarded by coming out, in advance of all the others, on a rocky height whence I looked down, far over constantly descending hills, to where a soft haze sent up a warm, rosy glow that seemed to me a smile of welcome; while beyond, occasional faint outlines of other mountains appeared; and I knew I was looking across the Sacramento Valley.

California, land of sunny skies—that was my first look into your smiling face. I loved you from that moment, for you seemed to welcome me with loving look into rest and safety. However brave a face I might have put on most of the time, I knew my coward heart was yearning all the while for a home-nest and a welcome into it, and you seemed to promise me both. A short time I had on those rocks, sacred to thanksgiving and prayer; then the others came, and boisterous shouts, and snatches of song made rocks and welkin ring.

William Brewer Explores the Central Valley, 1861

Salinas Valley and Monterey

Nacimiento River, May 4, 1861. It is a lovely afternoon, intensely hot in the sun, but a wind cools the air. A belt of trees skirts the river. I have retreated to a shady nook by the water, alike out of the sun and wind; a fine, clear, swift stream passes within a few rods of camp, a belt of timber a fourth of a mile wide skirts it—huge cotton woods and sycamores, with an undergrowth of willow and other shrubs. We have been here three days....

The grizzly bear is much more dreaded than I had any idea of. . . . They will kill and eat sheep, oxen, and horses, are as swift as a horse, of immense strength, quick though clumsy, and very tenacious of life. A man stands a slight chance if he wounds a bear, but not mortally, and a shot must be well directed to kill. The universal advice by everybody is to let them alone if we see them, unless we are well prepared for battle and have experienced hunters along. They will generally let men alone, unless attacked, so I have no serious fears of them.

Less common than bear are the California lions, a sort of panther, about the color of a lion, and size of a small tiger, but with longer body. They are very savage, and I have heard of a number of cases of their killing men. But don’t be alarmed on my account—I don’t court adventures with any such strangers. Deer are quite common. Formerly there were many antelope, but they are very rapidly disappearing. We have seen none yet. Rabbits and hares abound; a dozen to fifty we often see in a single day, and during winter ate many of them.

There are many birds of great beauty. One finds the representatives of various lands and climes. Not only the crow, but also the raven is found, precisely like the European bird; there are turkey-buzzards, also a large vulture something like the condor—an immense bird. Owls are very plenty, and the cries of several kinds are often heard the same night. Hawks, of various sizes and kinds and very tame, live on the numerous squirrels and gophers. I see a great variety of birds with beautiful plumage, from humming birds up.

From William H. Brewer, Up and Down California, 1860—1864 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974), pp. 91, 95—96, 380—82, 387, 510, 513—15.

But it is in reptile and insect life that this country stands preeminent. There are snakes of many species and some of large size, generally harmless, but a few venomous. Several species of large lizards are very abundant. Salamanders and chameleons are dodging around every log and basking on every stone. Hundreds or thousands may be seen in a day, from three inches to a foot long. Some strange species are covered with horns like the horned frogs.

But insects are the most numerous. They swarm everywhere. House flies were as abundant in our tent in winter as at home in summer. Ticks and bugs get on us whenever we go in the woods. Just where we are now camped there are myriads of bugs in the ground, not poisonous, but annoying by their running over one. Last night I could scarcely sleep, and shook perhaps a hundred or two hundred out of my blankets this morning....

Tejon-Tehachapi-Walker’s Pass

Visalia, April 12 [1863]. About six miles from Kings River we struck a belt of scattered oaks—fine trees—and what a relief! For, except a few cragged willows, shrubs rather than trees, in places along the sloughs, we had seen no trees for the last 130 miles of the trip! We crossed Kings River, a swift deep stream, by ferry, and stopped at a house on the bank, the most like a home of anything we had seen for two hundred miles. The owner was a Massachusetts Yankee, and his wife a very intelligent woman —I noticed an atlas of the heavens hanging up in the sitting room. . . .

[On] Friday, April 10, we [arrived] here, [after] twenty-five miles, crossing an open plain of nearly twenty miles. The morning was clear, and the view of the snowy Sierra most magnificent. Tomorrow we push on, and anticipate a rough time for the next four or six weeks.

Visalia is a little, growing place, most beautifully situated on the plain in an extensive grove of majestic oaks. These trees are the charm of the place. Ample streams from the mountains, led in ditches wherever wanted, furnish water for irrigating. We have stopped here two days to allow our animals to rest and get inspiration for our trip ahead. . . .

May 5 [1863]. Tuesday we came on thirty miles and stopped at Coyote Springs, about six or seven miles from White River. The road this day was through a desolate waste—I should call it a desert—a house at Deer Creek and another at White River were the only habitations. The soil was barren and, this dry year, almost destitute of vegetation. A part of the way was through low barren hills, all rising to about the same height—in fact, a tableland washed down into hills. We stopped at a miserable hut, where there is a spring and a man keeps a few cattle. He was not at home, but his wife was, and she gave us something to eat, and we slept out upon the ground. . . .

Wednesday we came on thirty-five miles to Kern River, the most barren and desolate day’s ride since leaving Fresno, and for thirty miles we saw no house. We continued among the low barren hills unt...

Table of contents

• About Island Press
• Dedication
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• Table of Figures
• Introduction - THE FATE OF NATURE IN THE GOLDEN STATE
• Chapter 1 - CALIFORNIA’S NATURAL ENVIRONMENT
• Chapter 2 - INDIAN LANDS
• Chapter 3 - THE SPANISH AND RUSSIAN FRONTIERS
• Chapter 4 - ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACTS OF THE GOLD RUSH
• Chapter 5 - FORESTS TRANSFORMED
• Chapter 6 - RANGELANDS EXPLOITED
• Chapter 7 - BUILDING THE HYDRAULIC EMPIRE
• Chapter 8 - FROM THE FAMILY FARM TO AGRIBUSINESS
• Chapter 9 - PRESERVING PARKS
• Chapter 10 - BATTLES OVER ENERGY
• Chapter 11 - SECOND NATURE: CALIFORNIA CITIES
• Chapter 12 - THE RISE OF ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENCE
• Chapter 13 - REVISIONING CALIFORNIA: CONTEMPORARY ENVIRONMENTAL MOVEMENTS
• CONCLUSION: - ENVIRONMENTAL ETHICS AND CALIFORNIA’S FUTURE
• Author Index
• Subject Index
• Island Press Board of Directors