San Francisco, 1857

As part of my graduate school, I am currently working on a research project with a professor of mine, searching out stories of male partners during the California Gold Rush.  To find these stories I have been reading through issues of two magazines published in San Francisco in the 1850s.  One is called The Pioneer, the other Hutchings' California Magazine.  Both are digitized and can be read for free online.

Reading these magazines, which were circulated throughout California at the time, is as close to time travel as I have ever come.  The pages are filled with general interest pieces on mining, industry, and transportation; tales of adventure and sentimental romances; and odd editorial declamations on poetry or social customs in San Francisco.  I, just like the original readers, am caught up in curiosity.  I can't wait  to read about the workings of a quartz mining stamp mill or the processes of quicksilver refining. It is all new, all fascinating.  To hear the stirring and bold designs of mid-19th century America makes me want to light out for the territories myself. Yet, for me, the inevitable chagrin of historical hindsight also lurks in these pages.  The story of Gen. Sutter, as told by himself, is especially poignant.