The Beginnings of San Francisco - Notes 32-34



NOTE 32. THE REVOLT OF THE CALIFORNIANS AND THE AFFAIR AT SAN PEDRO

On the last day of August 1846 Commodore Stockton appointed Captain 
Gillespie of the California battalion commandant of the southern military 
department, with headquarters at Los Angeles, and sailed for the north 
three days later. Gillespie was instructed to maintain martial law but to 
administer it with leniency. He was a brave and gallant officer, but he 
despised the Californians and was not the man to conciliate a proud and 
humiliated people and change them into friendly and willing citizens of 
the United States. He cared as little for the carefully drawn instructions 
of the home government as did his chief, Fremont, and he laid down very 
strict rules and regulations to be observed, the Californians thought, for 
the purpose of humiliating them. Los Angeles was ever the hotbed of a 
turbulent, lawless, and uncontrollable element, and it was not long before 
there was an outbreak. A few drunken vagabonds headed by one Cerbula 
Varela created a riot and fired on the barracks garrisoned by Gillespie 
and his men. The commander considered the affair an attempt at general 
insurrection and arrested several Mexican officers who had given their 
parole and were quietly living with their families. Many other prominent 
citizens, fearing arrest, fled to the ranchos and prepared to defend 
themselves. They had no sympathy with Varela and his crew, but considered 
the arrest of the officers a breach of faith, and the affair, which, 
properly handled by Gillespie, would have ended with those who began it, 
ripened into a general revolt. A force of three hundred men gathered in 
camp outside of the pueblo, issued a proclamation and summoned Gillespie 
to surrender. They had but a few flint-lock muskets, escopetas (shot-
guns), and lances, but no powder. John Temple's wife (a daughter of 
Francisco Cota) sent them two kegs of powder from her husband's store in 
Los Angeles and they sent out on the Colorado desert and got saltpetre and 
sulphur and made powder for themselves at the mission of San Gabriel. It 
was poor stuff, would throw a ball only five hundred yards, and when used 
in a flint-lock musket would flash in their faces. The first engagement of 
the war was the siege by fifty Californians under Varela of Chino rancho, 
where Don Benito Wilson with a party of twenty foreigners were in 
garrison. After an exchange of shots, during which one man was killed and 
several wounded, the Americans surrendered and were turned over to Jose 
Maria Flores who had been made commander-in-chief. The Californians now 
invested Los Angeles and called on Gillespie to surrender, offering to 
permit the garrison to march unmolested to San Pedro. Gillespie, who had 
sent a messenger to Stockton for relief, found his position untenable and 
accepted the terms. He marched out with his colors flying and drums 
beating and embarked on the merchant ship Vandalia at San Pedro. Santa 
Barbara was taken, Talbot and his nine men fleeing to the mountains whence 
they made their way to Monterey. On October 6th the Savannah sent by 
Stockton, reached San Pedro and the commander, Captain William Mervine, 
landed three hundred and fifty men and joined by Gillespie and his men 
from the Vandalia marched on the morning of the seventh for Los Angeles 
with a force of four hundred men. He could obtain no horses and took no 
cannon from the ships. Remembering the promenade of Stockton with the men 
of the Congress the previous August, Mervine anticipated no trouble, 
though he took all the precautions of a good commander. Flores sent Jose 
Antonio Carrillo with fifty horsemen to observe the movements of the 
Americans, and in the afternoon shots were exchanged between Carrillo's 
men and Mervine's skirmishers. At night the Americans occupied the 
buildings of the Dominguez rancho (San Pedro), below Los Angeles, and 
Carrillo received a reinforcement of forty men and an old four-pounder 
mounted on a pair of wagon wheels. There was more or less firing during 
the night by Carrillo, whose orders were to harass and delay the enemy but 
risk no general engagement. Early on the morning of the eighth the 
Americans resumed the advance, the marines and sailors marching in a solid 
square with Gillespie's men thrown out on either side as skirmishers. Soon 
they came upon the Californians drawn up in line of battle, waiting to 
receive them. In Carrillo's center was the gun in charge of ten men while 
forty horsemen were deployed on either flank. As the Americans came within 
range the gun was discharged and immediately dragged away by the reatas of 
the horsemen. At a safe distance it was reloaded and again brought into 
action. This operation was repeated several times with a loss to Mervine's 
force of six killed and six wounded. That the casualties were not greater 
is due to the poor quality of the home-made powder. Mervine, realizing the 
futility of attempting the pursuit of cavalry and flying artillery by 
seamen on foot, retreated, and his men exhausted by the heat and fatigue 
returned to their ships carrying their dead and wounded. Carrillo had 
fired his last charge of powder, but Mervine did not know that. The dead 
were buried on an island in San Pedro harbor, called Dead Man's island. { 
Dana says: "It was so named because of the burial there of an Englishman, 
commander of a small merchant brig, who was supposed to have been 
poisoned. Two Years Before the Mast.} 

Jose Antonio Carrillo, whose name has frequently appeared in this 
narrative, was the fourth son of Jose Raimundo Carrillo, soldier of the 
Portola expedition. He was born in San Francisco April 11, 1796, and 
baptized Jose Antonio Ezequiel. He became alcalde of Los Angeles, member 
of the diputacion, elector, member of (Mexican) congress, lieutenant-
colonel of militia, comandante de escuadron, etc., and signed the peace of 
Cahuenga as Mexican commissioner. In 1849 he was member of the 
constitutional convention. He was a man of remarkable natural ability with 
a great taste for politics and intrigue. Hospitable and generous he would 
go far to oblige a friend or discomfit an enemy, and though easily 
placated, he was prone to sharp and cutting remarks. Foster relates that 
at a ball in Los Angeles Carrillo remarked of an officer of the Mormon 
battalion who was laboring through a dance with one of the California 
ladies, that the lieutenant danced like a bear. This being repeated made 
the Mormons very angry, and claiming they were insulted they stirred up a 
good deal of feeling over the matter. Colonel Stevenson wishing to pour 
oil on the troubled waters sent Foster to ask Carrillo to withdraw the 
remark. Carrillo received Foster with the greatest cordiality and in the 
most courteous manner. Foster explained and Carrillo at once announced his 
readiness to withdraw the obnoxious remark, adding with the most winning 
grace that the bear was a paisano (countryman) of his and great injustice 
had been done him in regard to his dancing. This was the best Foster could 
do and Colonel Stevenson arranged a meeting of Mormons and Californians to 
reconcile matters and promote good feeling. The meeting was held at the 
house of a prominent citizen who in the most hospitable manner received 
all that came, setting before them whisky, brandy, and native wines, and 
some of the early comers imbibed very freely. The company was so great 
that they adjourned to the yard. Stevenson stated the matter and then gave 
Carrillo the chance to explain his remark. Carrillo began in a dignified 
manner but had uttered only a half dozen words when Captain Hunt 
{Jefferson Hunt. He went to Salt Lake with the battalion, but returned to 
California later with the San Bernardino colony, and represented San 
Bernardino in the legislature in 1855. In 1856 he was made brigadier 
general of the First brigade, First division, California militia.} of the 
battalion, who had seven or eight stiff drinks under his belt, interrupted 
him and in a violent speech began a recital of the wrongs of the Mormons 
from the time of their being driven from Kirtland, Ohio, to their arrival 
at Council Bluffs; and how, in spite of it all, they had raised a 
battalion of five hundred men for the service of the United States and had 
marched two thousand miles, ill-clad and on half rations, and after all 
that an unregenerate Mexican with the blood of the Americans still red 
upon his hands dared to ridicule one of the officers because he could not 
dance. Then raising his arms aloft Hunt shouted: "By the sword of the Lord 
and of Gideon I am for free trade and sailors' rights." At this an old sea 
dog of a ship-master who had been left inside with the bottles came to the 
door, and in his anxiety to drink to sailors' rights lost his balance and 
rolling down the steps came charging among them like a cannon ball. In the 
confusion which followed Carrillo walked quietly to where his horse was 
tied, saying to Foster as he passed, "Sus paisanos son un atajo de 
pendejos borrachos" (His countrymen are a pack of drunken cowards), 
mounted and rode away, much to the relief of Foster who feared that his 
apology would be worse than his original offense. {Foster: Angeles from 
'47 to '49 MS. 36.} 

In person Don Jose Antonio was tall and handsome, had a most urbane and 
courteous manner, and no man had greater power in winning friends. In his 
private affairs he was indolent and careless, like so many of his class, 
and never bothered himself about where the means were to come from, so 
that they came. In 1844 he was grantee, with his brother Carlos Antonio, 
of Santa Rosa island. He died in Santa Barbara in 1862. His first wife was 
Estefana Pico and the second, Jacinta Pico, both sisters of Don Pio. 



NOTE 33. THE DONNER PARTY

In the spring of 1846 some two thousand emigrants were gathered at 
Independence, Missouri, waiting for the grass of the plains to attain 
sufficient growth for feed for their cattle before commencing the long 
journey to the Pacific coast. Some of these were bound for Oregon and the 
rest for California. Among the latter a large company under command of 
Lilburn W. Boggs, ex-governor of Missouri, started about the beginning of 
May. The party was found to be too large for convenience in handling and 
three days after the start it was cut in two, Boggs taking charge of the 
advance, the second division being placed under command of Judge Moran of 
Missouri. Each of these two large companies was subsequently divided into 
smaller ones having various commanders who were changed from time to time 
as the emigrants proceeded on their journey, while the families changed 
from one company to another and new combinations were constantly being 
formed. 

In one of these companies, commanded by William H. Russell of Kentucky, 
was the party known as the Donner, or the Reed and Donner party. It 
consisted of the brothers George and Jacob Donner, and their families, 
James F. Reed and family, Baylis Williams and his half sister, Eliza 
Williams, John Denton, Milton Elliott, James Smith, Walter Herron, and 
Noah James, all from Springfield, Illinois, William H. Eddy and family, 
from Bellefield, Illinois, Patrick Breen and family and Patrick Dolan, 
from Keokuk, Iowa, Mrs. Murphy, widow, and children, from Tennessee, her 
sons in-law, William H. Pike and William M. Foster, with their families, 
William McCutchen and family, from Jackson county, Missouri, Lewis 
Keseburg and family, Mr. and Mrs. Wolfinger, Joseph Rhinehart, Augustus 
Spitzer, and Charles Burger, natives of Germany, Samuel Shoemaker, of 
Springfield, Ohio, Charles T. Stanton, of Chicago, Luke Halloran, of St. 
Joseph, Missouri, Mr. Hardcoop, a Belgian, Antonio and Juan Bautista, 
Spaniards, from New Mexico. West of Fort Bridger the party was joined by 
Franklin W. Graves and family, his son-in-law, Jay Fosdick and wife, and 
John Snyder, all from Marshall county, Illinois, eighty-eight souls, all 
told. 

It was a well equipped party, and George Donner, a man of some wealth, was 
carrying a stock of merchandise for sale in California. He had several 
milch cows and the family was plentifully supplied with milk and butter. 
For a time all was well and the company thoroughly enjoyed the novelty of 
their situation. The weather was delightful, and the country between the 
Blue and Platte rivers, a beautiful rolling prairie, was covered with 
grass and wild flowers. Game abounded and the men would ride twenty miles 
from the train on their hunting excursions. The Indians were friendly and 
the cattle grazed quietly around the camp unmolested. Several musical 
instruments and many excellent voices were in the party and all was good-
fellowship and joyous anticipation. The first death occurred just before 
the crossing of the Big Blue river. Mrs. Sarah Keyes, the aged mother of 
Mrs. James F. Reed, had been in feeble health and was unable to endure the 
fatigues of such a journey, but having no one to leave her with they had 
been obliged to bring her. She was buried on the bank of the Big Blue, and 
the emigrants moved on. The route was the usual one: up the north fork of 
the Platte, up the Sweetwater, through the South pass, down the Big Sandy 
and the valley of Green river. At Fort Bridger, then a new trading post on 
Black's fork of Green river, a consultation was held regarding the next 
stage of the journey. Bridger and Vasquez, the owners of the fort, were 
old trappers of the American Fur company. They had been in the region many 
years and had established this fort which they expected to make a great 
trading post, and they hoped to induce the government to make it the 
principal military post of the intermountain region. They had also traced 
out a road from Fort Laramie to Fort Bridger which they claimed was 
easier, had more grass and water, and was much shorter than the road 
through the Black hills and South pass. It followed up the Laramie river, 
came through Bridger pass and down Bitter creek to the Green. This route, 
surveyed by Captain Stansbury, U. S. topographical engineers, in 1850, was 
that followed later by the Union Pacific railroad from the Laramie to the 
Green river. At Fort Bridger the emigrants met a man whose advice, taken 
by them, was to cause their ruin. Lansford W. Hastings had commanded a 
party of emigrants across the plains to Oregon in 1842. The excessive 
rains of that country through the winter had produced dissatisfaction in 
the party and they determined to seek the sunnier skies of California. 
This they did the following year and reached Sutter's fort about the 
middle of July 1843. Bidwell says that Hastings came with a half-formed 
purpose of exciting a revolution, of wresting California from Mexico, and 
of establishing an independent republic with himself as president. 
{Bidwell: California in 1841-8 MS. Bancroft Collection.} The foreigners in 
the country were however too few for a successful revolt and Hastings 
devoted himself to the work of promoting emigration to California. He 
returned to the United States and published an emigrants' guide to Oregon 
and California, wherein he gives a most glowing account of California, 
whose people were "scarcely a visible grade in the scale of intelligence 
above the barbarous tribes by whom they are surrounded," but who, 
nevertheless, treated foreigners with kindness and freely granted them 
lands. {Hastings: Emigrants' Guide, pages 64-133.} He also, it is said, 
supplemented his publication by lectures. In 1845 he brought a small party 
through to California and then turned himself to diverting the Oregon 
emigration to California. It was on this business that he now presented 
himself to our party of emigrants at Fort Bridger. Many of them knew who 
he was and some had seen his book. The most of the people were bound for 
Oregon, but Donner, Harlan, Boggs, and some other parties were going to 
California. Hastings assembled the emigrants and told them of a new route 
he had discovered around the south end of Salt Lake and striking the 
Humboldt river one hundred and fifty miles above the sink. He told them 
that they would, by taking this route, save two hundred miles of travel 
over the old road by Fort Hall. Bridger and Vasquez added their testimony 
in favor of the new route and all three, for their own interests, 
exaggerated its advantages and underrated its difficulties. The 
deliberations lasted three or four days and the historian of the Donner 
party states that but for the earnest advice and solicitation of Bridger 
and Vasquez the entire party would have continued by the accustomed route. 
After mature deliberation, the emigrants divided; the greater portion, 
going by Fort Hall, reached California in safety. The Donner party, which 
had a few days before elected George Donner captain, decided to take the 
Hastings' cut-off, as did the Harlan party, whose chief was George Harlan. 
These two parties left Fort Bridger on July 28th, and for several days 
traveled in company. The route was fairly good and they had little 
difficulty until they reached Weber canon, where the road seemed 
impassable for the wagons. They halted and held a council. Harlan and some 
of his party maintained that the road could be made passable and that they 
could get through. Reed and Donner refused to go on and with their party 
turned back. The Harlan party spent six days in building a road through 
the canon and on the seventh passed over it and reached Salt Lake. They 
crossed the desert, losing by death one of their members, and after a hard 
struggle and a loss of many cattle, reached the Humboldt near the vicinity 
of the present Palisade, where they ascertained that the Boggs' party, 
which had gone by Fort Hall, was seventy-five miles ahead of them. Pushing 
on with all possible speed they crossed the mountains and reached 
Johnson's rancho, the first habitation west of the sierra, on the twenty-
fourth of October. They were the last party to cross the mountains. 

After leaving Harlan the Donner party traveled back for two days and then 
struck across the Wasatch range to the south and followed down the canon 
of a small stream towards Salt Lake. Some three weeks were spent in making 
roads and mending wagons, only to find the mouth of the canon so narrow 
and so filled with huge rocks as to be impassable. With great exertion 
they succeeded in getting out of the canon and reached Salt Lake about 
September 1st--some thirty-four days from Fort Bridger, a journey they 
were told would be made in six. It appears that Edwin Bryant, afterwards 
alcalde of San Francisco, had passed through the Hastings' cut-off ahead 
of the Harlan party. Bryant was traveling with a small party with pack-
mules, and was guided by James M. Hudspeth, an associate of Hastings. He 
left letters for emigrants in the rear warning those with wagons not to 
take the cut-off but keep to the old trail by Fort Hall; {Bryant: What I 
Saw in California, p. 144.} letters that were not delivered. 

Encamped at the southern end of the lake, death claimed on September 3d, 
another member of the Donner party. Luke Halloran was a consumptive, 
without friends or kinsman, who had joined the train hoping to find health 
in the change of climate. He succumbed to the hardships of the journey and 
was buried in a bed of salt at the foot of the lake. From September 9th to 
the 15th the party were crossing the Salt Lake desert, which Bridger and 
Vasquez had assured them was but fifty miles across, but which they found 
to be seventy-five. Reed's oxen, driven by thirst, disappeared in the 
desert leaving him helpless with three wagons and a family of six, the 
rest of the party having passed on. With his youngest child in his arms 
and followed by the others, Reed walked twenty miles to the camp on the 
head waters of a stream flowing into the Humboldt. Several days were 
passed here while an unsuccessful search was made for the lost cattle. 
Reed's only remaining cattle were one ox and one cow. Graves and Breen 
each loaned him an ox, and by yoking his cow and ox, together he had two 
yokes which he hitched to one wagon, and loading on that all he could, he 
abandoned the other two and cached such of his property as could not be 
carried. 

Before leaving the desert camp a careful account of provisions was taken, 
and deeming the amount insufficient Stanton and McCutchen volunteered to 
go forward to California and bring back a supply. Their services were 
accepted and they started, each with a horse, about September 20th. All 
were put on short rations and resuming the march they reached the emigrant 
road on the Humboldt river about the end of September, long after the last 
parties had passed. They now began to realize their danger. A storm came 
on and in the morning the mountain tops were covered with snow. It was a 
dreadful reminder of the lateness of the season and of the horrors they 
feared must await them. The company now fairly demoralized, pushed on as 
rapidly as possible, each family looking out for itself. All organization 
seems to have come to an end. The Indians, ever hostile, hovered about the 
train and stole the cattle at every opportunity. The poor animals were in 
a pitiable condition. The grass was scanty and of a poor quality, and the 
water was bad, causing much loss among them. At every slight ascent the 
teams would have to double up and it required five or six yokes of oxen to 
move one wagon. The days of feasting and merrymaking, of song and story 
around the evening camp fire, had long departed; they could not survive 
the deadly monotony of the journey. The people became irritable and 
quarrelsome under the never ceasing toil, the constant sense of danger, 
the scanty food, and the difficulties of their position. The differences 
that had existed among them from the beginning were greatly increased and 
they regarded each other with feelings of suspicion and dislike, that only 
needed opportunity to break forth in acts of hostility. At Gravelly Ford, 
on October 5th, in a quarrel between Snyder and Reed, the latter was 
savagely beaten by Snyder. Mrs. Reed rushed between the furious men and 
received a blow on the head from the butt end of Snyder's heavy whip 
stock. In an instant Reed's hunting knife was out and Snyder fell, 
mortally wounded, and died in fifteen minutes. Consternation siezed the 
emigrants. Camp was immediately pitched and after burying the dead man a 
council was held to determine the fate of the slayer. All the animosity of 
the company now centered on Reed. It was first proposed to hang him, and 
one man fastened up his wagon pole for that purpose; but it was finally 
decided to banish him to the wilderness, alone, with neither food nor 
arms. Reed accepted the verdict and mounting his horse rode out into the 
desert. His little daughter Virginia followed him after dark, and carried 
him his rifle, some ammunition and food. George and Jacob Donner with 
their wagons and families were two days in advance of the main train. 
Walter Herron was with them, and when Reed came up, Herron determined to 
accompany him to California. The two set out together and of Herron we 
hear nothing further. 

On the 12th of October the train reached the sink of the Humboldt, and the 
cattle, closely guarded, were turned out to graze. At daybreak the guard 
came into camp to breakfast, leaving the cattle unguarded, and during 
their absence twenty-one head were stolen by the Indians. This left the 
company in a bad plight. Several families had neither oxen nor horses 
left. All who could must walk. Men, women, and children were forced to 
travel on foot and, in many cases, carry heavy burdens to lighten the 
loads for the oxen. Eddy and his wife each carried a child and such 
personal effects as they were able. No one was allowed to ride but the 
little children, the sick, and the utterly exhausted. Seven of the women 
had nursing babies and all were on the smallest allowance of food that 
would sustain life. In this condition the company began the desert lying 
between the sink of the Humboldt and the lower crossing of the Truckee 
river. The Belgian, Hardcoop, an old and feeble man, fell; he could walk 
no further, and the train passed on, leaving him to his fate. I suppose 
the old man had no money to purchase the place of a bale of goods on one 
of the wagons. On October 14th the German, Wolfinger, failed to come into 
camp. He had been walking in the rear with Keseberg. His wife induced 
three young men to go back in the morning and look for him. Keseberg had 
said that Wolfinger was but a short distance behind him and would soon be 
along. The searchers failed to find him, but about five miles back came 
upon his wagon, and near it, the oxen, still chained together. There were 
no signs of Indians. The men hitched the oxen to the wagon and drove them 
in. It was thought that Keseberg murdered Wolfinger for his money, but no 
inquiry was made concerning the missing man and the wife supposed the 
Indians had killed him. McGlashan says that Joseph Rhinehart, when dying 
of starvation in George Donner's tent, confessed that he had something to 
do with the murder of Wolfinger. 

On the nineteenth of October, at the lower crossing of the Truckee (site 
of Wadsworth) the starving emigrants met Stanton with relief. Captain 
Sutter, without compensation or security, had sent them seven mules, five 
of them loaded with flour and beef. McCutchen had been ill and unable to 
return and Sutter had sent two Indian vaqueros, Luis and Salvador, to 
assist Stanton with the train and guide the emigrants over the mountains. 
The relief was timely and had the party pushed resolutely forward there is 
little doubt that they could have crossed the mountains; but with a lack 
of decision that had characterized them from the start, they concluded to 
rest three or four days at the Truckee meadows (Reno). The delay was 
fatal. On the twenty-third, alarmed by the threatening appearance of the 
weather, they hastily resumed their journey. It was too late. At Prosser 
creek they found six inches of snow and at the summit the snow was from 
two to five feet deep. With an efficient leader and a definite plan of 
action, the party might yet have succeeded in crossing the range. But 
there was no leader, all was confusion and the panic stricken emigrants, 
each for himself, made frantic efforts to break through the snow barrier 
that imprisoned them. Some families reached Truckee lake, as it was then 
called, on October 28th; some on the 29th; some on the 31st, and others 
never got beyond Prosser creek. Several wagons passed up the old emigrant 
road on the south side of the lake almost to the summit and were there 
abandoned. Some took the north side of the lake and passed far up towards 
the top of the pass, only to be left imbedded in the snow. For two weeks 
the emigrants wasted their strength in desultory efforts to escape, and 
then realizing the hopelessness of such attempts, determined upon an 
organized effort. Never before, from the formation of the Donner party, 
had they ever agreed upon any important proposition. The terrible 
situation they were in caused them to forget for a time their petty 
differences and united them in one cause. They decided to kill all the 
animals, preserve the meat, and on foot cross the summit. That night a 
heavy snow fell and for a week the storm continued with slight 
intermissions. Ten feet or more of snow fell at the lake, and, for a time, 
all their energies were required for the preservation of life. The mules 
and oxen, their main reliance for food, blinded and bewildered by the 
storm, strayed away and most of them perished, being buried in the snow 
where only a few were ever found. Those remaining were slaughtered and the 
meat preserved in the snow. The emigrants now realized that the winter 
must be spent in the mountains and made such preparations as they could 
for shelter. One cabin, built by an earlier party, was still standing and 
others were hastily constructed. These were built below the foot of the 
lake on what is now Donner creek. Seven miles to the eastward, on Alder 
creek, a branch of Prosser creek, the two Donner families with several of 
the unmarried men were encamped in tents and brush wood huts over which 
were stretched rubber coats, quilts, etc. Truckee lake and river are 
famous for the beautiful trout with which they abound, but after two or 
three unsuccessful attempts to catch them the effort was abandoned and 
soon the lake was covered over with thick ice. The entire party seemed 
dazed by the calamity which had overtaken them. 

Before leaving the Truckee meadows death had taken another of the party. 
While engaged in loading a revolver, William Foster accidentally shot and 
killed William Pike. This reduced the original company to seventy-nine 
persons. In the party must now be counted Luis and Salvador, the Indians 
sent by Sutter, making eighty-one souls in the camps: namely, twenty-four 
men, fifteen women, and forty-three children. Some of the children may 
have been grown but as the chroniclers do not give the ages, it is 
impossible to tell. Of the company, the women were the bravest, the most 
resourceful, and most successfully endured the struggle with cold and 
hunger, as will be seen later. The unmarried men, fifteen in number, most 
of whom were young and vigorous, gave way to despair, and after the first 
attempts to escape made no further effort. The only exceptions were 
Stanton, Denton, and Dolan, whose feeble exertions were soon ended. Of the 
fifteen only two survived. 

In all the company there was but one gun. It belonged to Foster, and with 
it, Eddy shot a bear and two or three ducks. After that no more game was 
seen. 

On December 16th a party known as the "forlorn hope" started on improvised 
snowshoes in an attempt to cross the mountains. There was a possibility of 
their getting through and their going would leave fewer hungry mouths in 
camp. The party consisted of Eddy, Graves, Stanton, Dolan, Fosdick and 
wife, Foster and wife, Lemuel Murphy (age 13), Mrs. Pike, Mary Graves, 
Mrs. McCutchen, Antonio, Luis, and Salvador: nine men, five women, and a 
boy. 

Taking rations for six days they started and on the second day crossed the 
summit. On December 22d they had consumed the last morsel of food. This 
day Stanton gave out. He had been snow-blind for two days and was too weak 
to keep up. It was he who had brought the relief from Sutter's fort and 
had remained and cast his lot with the party, when he might have escaped, 
having no ties of kindred among them. They left him sitting by the camp 
fire. It was I suppose the only thing they could do. They could not help 
him and their own case was desperate. On Christmas they reached the "camp 
of death" where a snow storm confined them for a week. Dolan, Graves, 
Antonio, and Lemuel Murphy died and were eaten by their starving 
companions. By the thirty-first, this food was gone and on New Year's day 
they ate their moccasins and the strings of their snowshoes. The two 
Indians, Luis and Salvador, had refused to eat of the dead bodies, and 
kept themselves apart from the rest of the company, enduring the pangs of 
hunger with Indian stoicism; but seeing ominous glances cast in their 
direction they fled during the night of December 31st. The party again 
pressed on. Fosdick died on the fourth of January and was eaten. His wife 
would not touch the food, but on this day, Eddy, who had Foster's gun, 
shot a deer. This lasted until January 6th. There was no food on the 
seventh and on the eighth Foster took the trail left by the bare and 
bleeding feet of the Indians, overtook them, shot both, and again the 
party, now reduced to two men and five women, was supplied with food. On 
the eleventh they passed out of the snow and came upon an Indian 
rancheria. Amazed to see such tattered, disheveled, skeleton creatures 
emerge from the sierra, the Indians ran off in fright, but soon returned 
to furnish such relief as they could and supplied them with acorn bread, 
all the food they had. After a brief rest the march was resumed and 
accompanied by the Indians the refugees traveled for seven days, being 
compelled to rest frequently. At last they could go no further and here, 
in the full view of the beautiful valley of the Sacramento, laid 
themselves down to die. The Indians, however, took Eddy, and partly 
leading, partly carrying him, brought him to Johnson's rancho. Four men 
started at once with provisions and guided by the Indians, found Eddy's 
companions fifteen miles back and brought them in the next day. It was 
January 17th; they had been thirty-two days coming from Donner lake, and 
of the fifteen that started, eight had perished. 

At Johnson's rancho there were only three or four families of poor 
immigrants, but a volunteer set off at once for Sutter's fort, forty miles 
below, for aid for the snow-bound people in the mountains. Captain Sutter 
and John Sinclair, alcalde of the district and manager of Rancho Del Paso, 
offered to furnish provisions, and men volunteered to carry them over the 
mountains. There was considerable delay in organizing the relief and 
securing saddle and pack animals, the country having been pretty well 
cleared of men and animals by the formation and equipment of the 
California battalion; but on February 5th, the first relief, a well 
appointed party of fifteen, under command of Reasin P. Tucker, started for 
the rescue of the beleagured immigrants. The ground was very wet and their 
progress was slow, while heavy rains on the sixth and seventh kept them 
three days in camp. On the tenth they reached Mule springs on the Bear 
river, opposite the site of the present Dutch Flat, having traveled the 
last four miles in snow, which, at the camp, was between three and four 
feet deep. The animals could go no further and sending them back under 
charge of William H. Eddy, who was one of the volunteers, ten men, 
carrying from twenty-five to fifty pounds of provisions, pushed forward on 
foot leaving two men to guard the provisions left. On the twelfth they 
halted to make snowshoes but could not use them and went on without. The 
next day they reached Bear valley which was covered with ten feet of snow. 
They examined a cache made by Reed and McCutchen and found that the 
provisions had been destroyed by bears. Here it rained or snowed all 
night. The next morning, February 15th, three of the men refused to go 
further and started for home. This left but seven of the original thirteen 
and it looked discouraging. They held a consultation and determined to go 
forward. Captain Tucker guaranteed to each man who persevered to the end, 
five dollars per day from the time they entered the snow. That day they 
made fifteen miles and the next day five miles through a heavy snow storm, 
and camped in snow fifteen feet deep. Five miles were made the following 
day, eight the day after, and they camped in Summit valley. The next day, 
February 19th, they crossed the summit, with thirty feet of snow on the 
pass, and reached the camp at the foot of the lake on the evening of that 
day. 

We have seen the safe arrival of the Harlan party at Johnson's rancho, 
October 24th. The day following, in the midst of a heavy rain storm, a man 
was seen riding slowly towards the camp. It was James F. Reed, who after 
great suffering, having been reduced to the verge of starvation, had 
reached California. The fate of his companion, Herron, does not appear. 
After a rest, Reed went to Sutter's fort where he met Bryant, Lippincott, 
Grayson, and others of the Russell party. Here steps were being taken to 
raise a company for the California battalion, and immigrants were being 
enlisted as they came in. Reed was made a lieutenant and leave given him 
to return to the mountains for his family whom he expected to meet at Bear 
valley, forty miles west of the summit. Sutter furnished Reed with horses 
and provisions and gave him an order on Theodore Cordua of the Honcut 
rancho (near the present Marysville) for more horses. At Sutter's fort 
Reed was joined by McCutchen, who had recovered his health, and together 
they set out from Johnson's rancho for the mountain camps with thirty 
horses, one mule, and two Indian vaqueros. At Bear valley they found a man 
named Jotham Curtis who with his wife had come over the mountains and both 
were in a starving condition. Reed relieved their necessities and leaving 
provisions to last until his return, continued on his way. The snow was 
two feet deep in the upper part of the valley. That night their Indians 
deserted them and the next day the deepening snow rendered further travel 
with horses impossible. After an ineffectual attempt to proceed on foot 
they returned to Curtis' camp in Bear valley. Securing their flour in the 
wagon of Curtis (the cache looked for by Captain Tucker) they returned to 
Sutter' s fort, taking Curtis and his wife with them. Sutter considered 
the number of cattle the emigrants were supposed to have and stated that 
if they killed the cattle and preserved the meat in the snow there need be 
no fear of starvation before relief could reach them. He told Reed that 
there were no able-bodied men in that region, all having enlisted under 
Fremont, and advised him to go to Yerba Buena and lay the case before the 
naval commander. Proceeding by way of San Jose Reed found the lower 
peninsula in possession of the Californians under Sanchez, and joining the 
volunteers took part in the famous battle of Santa Clara as first 
lieutenant of the San Jose company. On the happy conclusion of the Santa 
Clara campaign Reed was relieved of further military duty, having served a 
month and a half, and after receiving the commendation of his commander 
for gallant conduct on the plains of Santa Clara, continued his journey to 
Yerba Buena, where he arrived in the latter part of January; a somewhat 
leisurely proceeding, considering the starving families. At Yerba Buena a 
mass meeting was called and steps were being taken for the relief of the 
party when the news was received of the arrival at Johnson's rancho of the 
survivors of the forlorn hope. It was now realized that immediate action 
was necessary if any emigrants were to be saved. A relief party was 
organized under command of Selim Woodworth, and leaving them to follow by 
boat up the Sacramento, Reed and McCutchen, with Brittan Greenwood, a half 
breed mountaineer and guide, hurried on by way of Sonoma to Sacramento, 
thence to Johnson's rancho. Johnson drove up his cattle and said, "Take 
what you want." They killed five head and with the aid of Johnson and his 
Indians, had the meat fire-dried and ready for packing. Other Indians were 
making flour by hand mills and by morning had two hundred pounds ready. 
The war had taken so many men that it was difficult to find any willing to 
brave the dangers of the Sierra Nevada, and well might they fear it, as we 
shall see. At Johnson's Reed learned of the party commanded by Captain 
Tucker which had passed in seventeen days before. Reed packed his 
provisions and with seven volunteers--making with himself, Greenwood, and 
McCutchen, ten in all--started from Johnson's, February 22d, carrying 
seven hundred pounds of flour and the dried beef of five head of cattle. 
This was the "second relief." 

It is now time to look after the emigrants in the mountains. The snow-fall 
continued, alternating with rain and hard frosts until the cabins were 
buried and steps had to be cut in the snow to reach the surface, now some 
twenty feet above the ground. Wood there was in abundance but it was 
difficult for these weak hands to cut down a tree, and sometimes when it 
fell it would be so buried in snow that they could not get at it, and many 
days they had no fire. By the sixth of January their only food was the 
hides of such animals as they had slaughtered. {The green hides were cut 
into strips and laid upon the coals or held in the flames until the hair 
was completely singed off. Each side of the piece of hide was then scraped 
with a knife until comparatively clean, and was placed in a kettle and 
boiled until soft and pulpy. There was no salt and only a little pepper 
for seasoning. When cold, the boiled hides and the water in which they 
were cooked, became jellied and resembled glue. The stomachs of the little 
children and of some of the grown people revolted at this loathsome food.} 
They also gathered up the bones that had been cast away and boiled or 
burnt them until they crumbled, then ate them. Mrs. Murphy's little 
children used to cut pieces from a rug in the cabin, toast them crisp on 
the coals and eat them. Mrs. Reed and her children had been without other 
food than hides since Christmas. At Alder creek the families were even 
worse off since they had only brush huts and tents. George Donner had met 
with an accident which disabled him, and of which, aggravated by want of 
nourishment, he finally died. Jacob Donner, a man in feeble health, never 
rallied from the shock of finding himself imprisoned in the mountains. He 
gave up in despair and died early in December. Williams died at the lake 
December 15th, and Shoemaker, Rhinehart, and Smith at Alder creek before 
the twenty-first. Patrick Breen's diary written from day to day, from 
November 20th to March 1st, is the principal source of information. He 
frequently comments on the scarcity of wood as well as food. "Hard work to 
get wood"; "Don't have enough fire to cook our hides"; "No wood," are some 
of his many entries. Burger, young Keseburg, John L. Murphy, Eddy's wife 
and child, McCutchen's child, Spitzer, and Elliott, all died between 
December 30th and February 9th. Without fire, without food, without 
protection from the dampness occasioned by the melting snows, the men, 
women, and children were huddled together, the living and the dead, in the 
gloom of their buried cabins, while above them raged the tempest with a 
sound that was dreadful in their ears. From time to time small parties 
made feeble efforts to cross the mountains but these ceased after January 
4th, and the unfortunates waited with lessening numbers and growing 
despair for the relief that seemed far away. Day after day they looked for 
help to come and day after day they became more hopeless. For nearly four 
months they had been held prisoners in the snow and it was more than two 
months since the forlorn hope made its desperate effort to break through 
the barrier and bring succor to the people. All food was gone! Even the 
repulsive hide was no longer to be had and the last resort must be to the 
bodies of the dead. On the evening of the 19th of February, the silence 
was broken by a shout from the direction of the lake. In an instant 
weakness and infirmity were forgotten and up from the depths, climbing the 
icy stairways leading to the surface, came the poor, starving wretches. It 
was Captain Tucker and his men, the seven heroes of the first relief. 
Coming down from the summit to find a wide expanse of snow covering forest 
and lake and a stillness that was like the silence of the grave, they sent 
up a loud shout to see if happily any could answer. The cry was answered, 
and around the relief party came the weak and trembling forms of little 
children, of delicate women, and of what had once been strong men. The 
pitiful sight was too much for the men of the relief and they sat down in 
the snow and wept. Half a miles below the lake was the cabin of the Graves 
and Reed families. Captain Tucker, who had crossed the plains in company 
with the Graves family, before the latter took the Hastings' cut-off with 
the Donners hastened down the creek to see them. He saw smoke issuing from 
a hole in the snow, and, as before, he shouted, and up to the surface came 
Mrs. Graves and Mrs. Reed and the little children. Mrs. Graves' first 
question was for her husband and daughters. Did all reach the valley? The 
stout heart of Tucker failed him. How could he tell this starving woman of 
the fate of her husband and her son-in-law! He assured her that all were 
well. The same answer was given to the rest. Had the truth been told, the 
survivors of the camps would not have had the courage to attempt the 
journey. Food was given to the sufferers carefully and in small 
quantities, and the provisions were guarded lest the famished people 
should obtain more than was good for them. The members of the relief party 
camped in the snow, unable to endure the sights within the cabins, and in 
the morning three of them visited the Donner tents on Alder creek, seven 
miles below. 

The relief party determined to return on the twenty-second and would take 
such as were able to travel. To those who remained, they said other relief 
parties would soon come. The question was, who should go? George Donner 
had become helpless and his wife would not leave him, though urged to go. 
From the Donner camp came the two oldest daughters of George Donner: 
Elitha and Leana; George Donner, Jr., son of Jacob, and William Hook his 
step-son; Mrs. Wolfinger, and Noah James. Mrs. Jacob Donner's two little 
boys were not big enough to walk and the mother preferred to wait for a 
larger party to come for them. From the upper camp came Mrs. Reed, her 
daughter Virginia, and son, James F., Jr. Her two other children, Martha 
(8 years), and Thomas (3 years), started with the company but they had 
proceeded only two miles when Glover, of the relief party, told Mrs. Reed 
that they showed such signs of weakness it was not safe to allow them to 
go on and that he would take them back. The poor mother was frantic at 
having to send her little ones back to that dreadful camp, and Mr. Glover 
promised to return as soon as he arrived at Bear valley and bring Martha 
and Thomas over the mountains. To this the mother was obliged to consent. 
Two Murphy children, William G. and Mary M.; Naomi L. Pike; three Graves 
children, William C., Eleanor, and Lovina; Mrs. Keseburg and her baby 
girl, Ada; Edward and Simon Breen, children; Eliza Williams, and John 
Denton, twenty-one, all told, made up the number brought out by the first 
relief. The seven men constituting this party were: Reasin P. Tucker, 
captain, Aquila Glover, Riley S. Moultry, John Rhoads, David Rhoads, 
Edward Coffeemire, and Joseph Sells. When Mrs. Pike, whose husband had 
been accidentally killed at Truckee meadows, joined the forlorn hope, she 
left her two year old Naomi, and her infant Catherine, with her mother, 
Mrs. Murphy. Starvation had dried her milk and she could no longer nurse 
the babe. The grandmother succeeded in keeping the infant alive until the 
arrival of the relief party by administering to it a little gruel made 
from coarse flour-- a small quantity of which Mrs. Murphy had saved-- 
mixed with snow water. On February 20th the baby died, and little Naomi 
was carried to her mother by John Rhoads, who bore her through the snow 
slung over his back in a blanket. Another of the men of the relief carried 
Mrs. Keseberg's baby, but the little one could not survive. She died on 
the evening of the first day out and was buried in the snow. The second 
day the company reached Summit valley. When camp was pitched John Denton 
was missed. John Rhoads went back and found him asleep on the snow, and 
with much exertion aroused and brought him into camp. He said it was 
impossible for him to travel another day, and on the morrow he gave out 
before proceeding very far. His companions built a fire for him and giving 
him such food as they could, left him. When Captain Tucker's party were 
going to Donner lake, they had left a portion of their provisions in 
Summit valley, tied up in a tree. They had found it difficult to carry all 
they had started with, and besides, thought it well to have something 
provided for their return should the famished emigrants eat all they 
carried in, which proved to be the case. The scanty allowances were all 
eaten, and when the party reached the cache they were horrified to find 
that wild animals, by gnawing the ropes by which the provisions had been 
suspended, had obtained and consumed all. Starvation now stared them in 
the face and they pushed on as rapidly as possible. On the twenty-seventh 
they were met by the second relief under James F. Reed, and being thus 
succored they reached Johnson's March 2d. In his diary Reed says: "Left 
camp (head of Bear valley) on a fine, hard snow and proceeded about four 
miles when we met the poor, unfortunate, starved people. As I met them 
scattered along the snow-trail, I distributed some bread that I had baked 
last night. I gave in small quantities to each. Here I met my wife and two 
of my little children. Two of my children are still in the mountains. I 
cannot describe the death-like look all these people had. 'Bread'! Bread'! 
'Bread'! 'Bread'! was the begging cry of every child and grown person. I 
gave all I dared to them and set out for the scene of desolation at the 
lake." At Bear valley another cache had been made and this was found 
unmolested. The utmost caution was taken to prevent the famished people 
from eating too much. One boy, William Hook, got at the provisions and ate 
until his hunger was satisfied and in the morning was found to be dying. 
Finding him past relief they left two of their company with him and 
continued on their way. Had it not been for the relief afforded by Reed 
many of the party must have perished. 

Realizing the terrible situation of the emigrants Reed hurried on as fast 
as possible. On February 28th, he made fourteen miles through very soft 
snow, and on camping sent three of his men ahead who kept on through the 
night and camped for a short rest within two miles of the cabins, which 
they reached early in the morning. They found all alive and after feeding 
them went on to the Donner camp, where they arrived by noon. During the 
day Reed and the rest of the party came up. 

On March 3d Reed started his return taking Mr. and Mrs. Breen and five 
children, which cleaned up the Breen family--two having gone with the 
first relief; his own two children, Isaac and Mary M., who had been living 
with the Breens; two children of Jacob Donner; Solomon Hook, Mrs. Jacob 
Donner's child by a former husband; and Mrs. Graves and her four remaining 
children, seventeen in all. The relief party consisted of James F. Reed, 
Charles Cady, Charles Stone, Nicholas Clark, Joseph Gendreau, Mathew 
Dofar, John Turner, Hiram Miller, William McCutchen, and Brittan 
Greenwood. Many of the younger children had to be carried and all were so 
weak and emaciated that it was evident the journey would be a slow and 
painful one, and should a storm arise before they got over the mountains, 
the situation of the party would be extremely grave. 

It was decided that Clark, Cady, and Stone should remain at the mountain 
camps to attend to the helpless sufferers, procure wood for them, and 
perform such other service as they might need, until the third relief, 
which, it was thought, would be sent at once, should arrive to bring in 
all that remained. The second day after the departure of the second 
relief, while Clark was absent following the tracks of a bear he had 
wounded, Stone and Cady concluded that it would be madness to remain in 
the mountains and be caught in the storm they saw coming. They deserted 
their post, therefore, and endeavored to overtake Reed and his party. 
Clark, returning from an unsuccessful hunt late at night, found them gone. 
When Mrs. George Donner found that the men were going to leave, she 
persuaded them to take her three little girls, Frances, Georgia, and 
Eliza, with them over the mountains. She had previously offered five 
hundred dollars to any one who would take them safely over, and that, or 
perhaps more, was what induced the two men to undertake the charge. They 
took the children as far as Keseberg's cabin at the lake, and there left 
them. 

When Clark awoke on the morning after his hunt, he found a fierce storm 
raging and the tent of Jacob Donner, where he was, literally buried in 
fresh snow. The storm lasted about a week. The snow was so deep that it 
was impossible to procure wood and during these terrible days and nights 
there was no fire in either of the tents. The food gave out the first day 
and the dreadful cold was rendered more intense by the pangs of hunger, 
while the wind blew like a hurricane, hurling great pines crashing to the 
ground about them. In the tent with Clark were Mrs. Jacob Donner, her son 
Lewis, and the Spanish boy, Juan Bautista. George Donner and his wife were 
in their tent and with them Jacob Donner's youngest son, Samuel. 

When the storm cleared away Clark found himself starving like the rest. He 
had become one of the Donner party. As the storm was ending Lewis Donner 
died and was buried in the snow. Then Clark succeeded in killing a bear 
cub and the camp again had food. It had come too late for Mrs. Jacob 
Donner and her little Samuel. They died and were buried in the snow. 

Clark now determined to leave the mountains, and dividing the bear meat 
with Mrs. George Donner, he started on his journey, accompanied by Juan 
Bautista. 

The little band conducted by Reed had reached the lower end of Summit 
valley on the evening of the second day out, when the storm burst upon 
them with fury. All day the men of the relief had urged the party forward 
with the greatest possible speed, that they might get as near the 
settlements as they could before the storm caught them. Their provisions 
were exhausted and Reed sent Gendreau, Dofar, and Turner forward to a 
cache a few miles below Summit valley. They found the cache destroyed by 
wild animals and were pushing on for the next one, a few miles beyond, 
when they were caught by the storm and could neither proceed nor return. 

In a bleak and desolate spot in the Summit valley Reed's party was forced 
to halt. The cold sleet-like snow beat upon them, and a fierce, 
penetrating wind seemed to freeze the marrow in their bones. With much 
difficulty they succeeded in building a fire, and the hungry, freezing 
immigrants crowded around it while Reed planted pine boughs in the snow 
and banked up the snow both within and without, forming, with the boughs, 
a wall to protect the party from the cruel wind. Warmed by the fire the 
others slept while Reed labored far into the night, perfecting his 
breastwork and keeping up the fire. At length the fire died down and the 
cold awakened Mrs. Breen. In an instant she aroused the camp. All were 
nearly frozen. The fire was renewed and Reed, who had been missed, was 
found lying unconscious upon the snow. He had fallen exhausted, and, 
overcome by the fatal drowsiness which proceeds death from freezing, would 
soon have passed beyond earthly help. They carried him to the fire and 
after two hours of vigorous rubbing he showed signs of returning 
consciousness. It was daybreak before he was fully restored. 

For several days the storm continued in all its violence and it required 
the utmost exertions of McCutchen and Miller to keep alive the fire. The 
other men, disheartened by this calamity, gave up in despair. Mrs. Graves 
died from exhaustion the first night in camp, and her death was followed 
by that of her little son, Franklin, and of the boy, Isaac Donner. The men 
of the second relief realized that unless they could get help all in the 
camp would starve. They could not carry all the children through the deep 
snow, but they determined to set out for the settlements and send back 
help. They accordingly started, taking with them Solomon Hook and Martha 
Reed, who could walk, while Hiram Miller carried little Thomas Reed in his 
arms. 

The relief party which had started from Yerba Buena under command of Selim 
Woodworth reached Bear valley where they were encamped in the deep snow, 
when the advance of the second relief, Gendreau, Dofar, and Turner reached 
that point. These men had found food in the second cache, but instead of 
returning with it to the party they had undertaken to save, they satisfied 
their own hunger and pushed on for the settlements leaving the remnant of 
the provisions where it could be seen by Reed and his men. In Bear valley 
they came upon Woodworth's camp and two men, John Stark and Howard Oakley, 
started for the Reed camp and met Reed and his men coming out. They had 
been three days on the way from "starved camp" to Woodworth's, and were in 
a sad plight, with frozen feet and exhausted bodies. Cady and Stone, from 
Donner lake, overtook Reed on the second day from starved camp and 
accompanied the party to Woodworth's. 

Meanwhile in the desolate camp in Summit valley eleven unfortunates 
awaited the coming of a rescuing party. There was no food save a few seeds 
tied in bits of cloth, a lump of loaf sugar, saved for the babies, and a 
few teaspoons of tea. Patrick Breen, a feeble man, now worn to a skeleton, 
and his wife, Margaret, were the only adults; the rest were children, two 
being nursing infants--Mrs. Graves' Elizabeth, and Mrs. Breen's Isabella. 
Mrs. Breen waited upon all and attended to all. She fed the babies on snow 
water and sugar and when she found a child sunken and speechless she broke 
with her teeth a morsel of the sugar and put it between his lips. She 
watched by night as well as by day and all received her care. She gathered 
wood and kept up the fire, without which they could not live. The fire had 
melted the snow to a considerable depth and at length it was so far 
beneath them that they felt but little of its warmth. Mrs. Breen sent her 
son John down into the snow pit and he reported the fire on the bare 
earth, thirty feet below the surface of the snow. By great exertion she 
got all her helpless company down into the pit where they would be well 
sheltered and she constructed a kind of ladder from a tree top which 
enabled her to ascend and descend. Above, on the snow, lay the bodies of 
the dead, and to them Patrick Breen resorted for food. His wife would not 
touch it and declared she would die and see her children die rather than 
have her life or theirs preserved by such means. She never did eat of the 
bodies herself, and if the father gave to the children, it was without her 
consent or knowledge. Eight days had passed since Reed and his men left. 
It seemed as if the very limit of human endurance had been reached. On the 
morning of the ninth day Mrs. Breen ascended to the surface for her daily 
supply of wood and to look, as she crawled from tree to tree, for the help 
that did not come. She felt that if succor did not arrive that day, it 
would come too late. She descended to the helpless ones and together they 
repeated the Litany. Then after a rest she again climbed out of the pit to 
resume her watch for the coming of relief. She was so faint and weak from 
starvation and from the effort of ascending that her brain whirled and it 
required all her power to control her own wavering life; but she thought 
of the miserable ones in the pit who had only her to depend on and she 
grew steadier. She thought she heard sound of voices, but could see 
nothing for her eyes were dimmed by the sudden excitement. It must be a 
delusion of her overtaxed brain. Then the sounds came again, and she heard 
the words, "There is Mrs. Breen alive yet anyhow." The relief had come. 

When Reed and his party had been brought into Woodworth's camp in Bear 
valley and had been told of the fourteen unfortunates left behind without 
food, the third relief was at once organized. So dreadful was the 
condition of the members of the first and second relief parties, that men 
hesitated to expose themselves to the danger of such frightful suffering. 
At Yerba Buena, Foster and Eddy, survivors of the forlorn hope, had 
endeavored to form a relief party, but were unable to obtain volunteers. 
They set out, therefore, on the trail of Woodworth's party and arrived at 
his camp the day Reed's advance party came in. When Reed's story was told, 
Foster and Eddy, joined by Hiram Miller, proposed to start at once, and 
with William Thompson, John Stark, Howard Oakley, and Charles Stone, set 
out from Woodworth's camp. It was arranged that Stark, Oakley and Stone 
were to bring in the sufferers at starved camp while Foster, Eddy, 
Thompson, and Miller were to press forward to the relief of those at 
Donner lake. Of the eleven at starved camp only two could walk: Mrs. Breen 
and her son John. A storm appeared to be gathering, and the supply of 
provisions brought by the three men was limited. The lonely situation, the 
sights in the camp, and the threatening aspect of the weather, filled the 
minds of Oakley and Stone with terror. It was proposed to take the three 
Graves children and Mary Donner, all that the three men could carry, to 
Woodworth's camp, and abandon the Breens, for the mother would not leave 
her helpless ones and John was in a semi-lifeless condition. To this 
programme Stark would not agree. He had come, he said, on a mission of 
mercy; he would not half do the work; the other two could go if they 
would; he refused to abandon the helpless. They went, and Stark was left 
to work out his plan of salvation as best he could. Just how he managed 
with the seven left to him, the narrator (McGlashan) does not say. Five of 
the number had to be carried, and the provisions besides. He was a 
powerful man, weighing two hundred and twenty pounds, of a determined will 
and undaunted courage. He would carry one or two a distance ahead, put 
them down, and return for the others. In this way he succeeded in getting 
them all to Woodworth's, where the others of the third relief had arrived. 

Eddy and his companions reached the lake about the middle of March. They 
found Nicholas Clark and Juan Bautista at the head of the lake, where they 
waited until the return of the relief party. At the lake were Mrs. Murphy, 
her son Simon, the three little Donner girls: Frances, Georgia, and Eliza, 
and Lewis Keseberg. At Alder creek were George Donner and his wife, 
Tamsen. The injury George Donner had received resulted in erysipelas, and 
it was evident that he had but a few hours to live. Mrs. Donner had come 
up from Alder creek to see her little girls and assure herself that they 
were still safe, and was with them in Mrs. Murphy's cabin when the relief 
party arrived. They urged her to accompany them and her children over the 
mountains, and argued that there could only be a few hours of life left to 
George Donner. She knew this and asked them to remain until she could 
return to Alder creek and see if he were yet alive. This they refused, as 
the gathering storm-clouds over the summit warned them to be away, lest 
they be caught in the storm and all perish. Mrs. Donner refused to leave 
her husband; she returned to close his eyes and to her own certain death. 
Eddy and Foster found their children, little James Eddy and baby George 
Foster, dead, and on the day following their arrival at the lake, started 
on their return; Eddy carrying Georgia Donner; Thompson, Francis Donner; 
Miller, Eliza Donner; and Foster, Simon Murphy. Mrs. Murphy had cared for 
the children and was now sick and entirely helpless. She could not walk. 
They left her with such provisions as they could, brought her wood, and 
made her as confortable as possible, promising to return with assistance 
and carry her over the mountains. 

The departure of the third relief left at the lake Mrs. Murphy and 
Keseberg, who had injured his foot and could not walk, and at Alder creek 
Mr. and Mrs. George Donner. I have no account of the return march of the 
third relief. They took up Clark and Juan Bautista and all reached 
Woodworth's camp and ultimately Johnson's rancho and Sutter's fort. {It 
appears that on the arrival of the third relief at Woodworth's the entire 
expedition returned to Johnson's, abandoning the four persons still 
remaining in the mountains. I have seen no explanation of this action.} 

On April 13th the fourth relief party started from Johnson's rancho under 
command of William O. Fallon, a mountaineer trapper and guide. With him 
were William M. Foster, John Rhoads, R. P. Tucker, J. Foster, Sebastian 
Keyser, and Edward Coffeemire. Alcalde Sinclair of Sutter's fort had, by 
an offer of half of any property that might be saved, induced these men to 
attempt the rescue of the four left in the mountain camps by the third 
relief. George Donner was a man of some wealth, and in addition to the 
valuable stock of goods he was bringing to California, was supposed to 
have with him twelve or fourteen thousand dollars in coin. It was the hope 
of recovering this wealth that actuated most of the men of the fourth 
relief. Foster went with them hoping to save Mrs. Murphy, his wife's 
mother. They reached the lake April 17th, and found that of the four left 
by the third relief, Mrs. Murphy and Mr. and Mrs. Donner had died, and 
Keseberg alone was living. Paying no attention to Keseberg the "rescuers" 
began a search for the money, breaking open trunks and scattering their 
contents. Failing to find any money they came to Keseberg's cabin and 
demanded of him George Donner's money. Keseberg asked them to give him 
something to eat but they threatened to kill him if he did not instantly 
give up the money. At this he gave them some five hundred dollars which he 
said Mrs. Donner had given him to take to her children, and this was all 
they could find. They accused Keseberg of being a murderer and robber and 
so treated him. They were rough and unkind towards him, left him to his 
fate, and busied themselves in getting Donner's goods over the mountains; 
each man, according to Keseberg, carried two bales of silks or other 
goods, taking one a certain distance and then going back and bringing up 
the other. Keseberg with his wounded foot could not keep up with them, but 
dragged himself along and managed to reach their camp each night. Arriving 
at Sutter' s fort Keseberg was accused by some members of the relief party 
of the murder of Mrs. Donner. In Fallon's diary he is also accused of the 
murder of Wolfinger, of having killed and eaten George Foster, and of 
having been responsible for the abandonment of Hardcoop. The most 
revolting statements are made by Fallon concerning what he saw at the 
camp--statements that have been repeated by others but which are most 
absurd and impossible. McGlashan who wrote his story from interviews with 
and statements from the survivors, including Keseberg, discredits the 
accusations as do other writers. The stories, however, found ready belief 
and people shunned Keseberg and children fled from him with aversion. At 
the suggestion of Sutter Keseberg brought suit against Fallon, Coffeemire, 
and others, for slander, and the jury gave him a verdict of one dollar 
damages. He became a marked man and misfortune pursued him wherever he 
went. As a sample of the ridiculous stuff published about him, I quote an 
extract from Sights in the Gold Region, by Theodore T. Johnson 
(1849). 

"Within a half a mile of our encampment (on the Sacramento river) we saw 
the house of old Keysburg, the cannibal, who reveled in the awful feast on 
human flesh and blood during the sufferings of a party of emigrants near 
the pass of the Sierra Nevada, in the winter of 1847. * * * It is said 
that the taste which Keysburg then acquired had not left him and that he 
often declares with evident gusto, 'I would like to eat a piece of you'; 
and several have sworn to shoot him if he ventures on such fond 
declarations to them. We therefore looked at the den of this wild beast in 
human form with a good deal of disgusted curiosity, and kept our bowie 
knives handy for a slice of him, if necessary." 

This ends the story of the Donner party whose tragic fate was known and 
feared by belated parties of the overland emigration of 1849 and later 
years. I have followed mainly the narrative of C. F. McGlashan in his 
History of the Donner Party, and have tried to connect his somewhat loose 
and disjointed story, omitting as much of the dreadful details as 
possible, and all laudation of the various actors in the tragedy. That 
there was great heroism and self-sacrifice displayed by certain members of 
the Donner and of the relief parties, will be seen by any one who reads 
the story; but it is, at best, a pitiful story of weakness and 
incompetence; nor can I see, as McGlashan can, anything brave, generous, 
or heroic in William Foster's trailing and potting for food the Indians, 
Luis and Salvador, who had come to serve them. 

The destruction of the party may be ascribed, after the preliminary error 
in taking the wrong route, to internal discord, jealousy, and hatred among 
them, and to the lack of organization and leadership. That any of the 
party were saved seems quite remarkable when their condition is realized 
and the deliberation with which the work of relief was conducted is 
considered. The abandonment of the four left in the mountains must be 
strongly condemned. Granting that the saving of Mrs. Murphy and George 
Donner was impossible and of Keseberg immaterial, the life of Tamsen 
Donner was worth all the exertion that could have been made, even at the 
peril of the lives of the rescuers. 

We have seen that of the eighty-eight persons who started with or became 
joined to the Donner party, six died before entering the sierra, and 
three--Reed, Herron, and McCutchen--were in California, leaving of the 
party seventy-nine, and of this number must be added the Indians, Luis and 
Salvador, making eighty-one in the mountain camps. Of this number, forty-
five were saved, including two of the nursing infants, and thirty-six 
perished. Only five of the fifteen women died, and four of the five died 
for those dependent on them. Tamsen Donner gave up her life that she might 
comfort her husband's last hours. Mrs. Jacob Donner remained and died with 
her little children. Both women were able to travel. Mrs. Graves sent her 
husband and eldest daughter, a grown woman, with the forlorn hope; she 
sent the next three children with the first relief party, and waited, with 
the four little ones remaining for the second relief. Her life was 
sacrificed for these children, three of whom were saved. Mrs. Murphy's 
life was given for the children--her little Simon and her grandchildren, 
Naomi and Catherine Pike, and George Foster. The third relief found her 
unable to walk. Mrs. Eddy died before the coming of the first relief. 

The altitude of the Great Basin averages about forty two or forty-three 
hundred feet. From Truckee meadows, an altitude of forty-five hundred 
feet, the trail enters the sierra and following up the canon of the 
Truckee river reaches Prosser creek, thirty miles above, at an elevation 
of fifty-six hundred feet. Thence to Donner lake, seven miles, elevation 
six thousand feet. From the camp on Donner creek to the head of the lake 
is four miles. A mile from the upper end of the lake the trail comes to 
the foot of precipitous cliffs and the greatest difficulty of the ascent. 
It is a mile and a half to the summit of the pass and the rise is twelve 
hundred feet. Crossing the summit, altitude seven thousand two hundred 
feet, Summit valley is reached in a mile and a half, altitude sixty-seven 
hundred and fifty feet. From Summit valley to Bear valley is about twenty-
five miles, elevation forty-five hundred feet; thence to Mule springs 
(Dutch Flat) fifteen miles, elevation thirty-five hundred feet. Twelve or 
fifteen miles below this point the forlorn hope emerged from the snow of 
the sierra. 

In June 1847 General Kearny, with whom was William O. Fallon and Edwin 
Bryant, passed the camps on his way to the Missouri, buried such remains 
as he could find and burned the cabins. The work of burial was completed 
by returning Mormons of the battalion in September of the same year. 

As this work goes to press the book of Mrs. Houghton is received: 
Expedition of the Donner Party, by Eliza P. Donner Houghton. Mrs. Houghton 
states that Oakley and Stone of the third relief did not desert the 
helpless ones at Starved Camp, but assisted in bringing them out; a 
statement which is probably correct. Otherwise her story does not conflict 
with the foregoing in any material detail. 



NOTE 34. THE OVERLAND ROUTE

The emigration to California by the southern or Santa Fe route passed up 
the Arkansas river to Bent's fort, thence southwesterly to Santa Fe; thus 
far over the Santa Fe trail, a road well traveled. Leaving Santa Fe they 
passed down the Rio Grande, crossed over to the headwaters of the Gila, 
down the Gila to its junction with the Colorado, across the Colorado 
desert and over the San Jacinto mountains by Warner's rancho or the 
Vallecito pass, to San Diego. A few, for fear of the Apaches, came over 
the Camino del Diablo, but so fearful was the suffering by that route that 
it was soon abandoned. 

The great mass of the emigrants went by the central route. Leaving 
Independence on the Missouri river the train passed out on to the open 
prairie. In the beginning large companies under a single commander were 
the rule, but experience soon taught the emigrants that with small 
companies they could travel more easily, make better time, and obtain 
better grass and water facilities. The emigrants set out on their long 
journey with enthusiasm and were most cordial and friendly in their 
relations with one another. The exhilaration produced by the pure air, the 
vastness and grandeur of the prairies bounded only by the blue horizon, 
the succession of green undulations and flowery slopes, was scarcely 
controllable and all were happy in the joyous anticipations of the future. 
There was little thought of hardship; the families were well equipped and 
provided with every comfort for the journey and nearly every family had a 
cow or two to furnish fresh milk and cream. The camp was usually made 
early in the afternoon where grass and water was plenty; the wagons were 
drawn up in a circle forming a corral wherein such horses and cattle as 
were likely to stray were confined. Outside of the corral the tents were 
pitched with their doors outward; in front of these the camp fires were 
lighted and the culinary operations performed. After the evening meal was 
concluded the time was passed in friendly calls, in singing, dancing, 
etc., and all retired early to rest. In the morning after an early 
breakfast the "catching-up" or yoking of the cattle and attaching them to 
the wagons proceeded with great bustle, noise, and confusion and by nine 
o'clock the train began to move. The ceremony of organizing the company, 
of choosing officers, of adopting regulations for government of the party 
during the journey to California was one of importance and was usually 
performed at one of the early camps after leaving Independence. The 
electioneering for the position of captain of the company was, at times, 
very strenuous, and the claims of ambitious candidates were urged with 
vehemence by their respective friends. 

The harmony prevailing at the start was usually of short duration. Nothing 
tries out the disposition of men like the close companionship and petty 
inconveniences and annoyances of a long journey. The companies were, as a 
rule, made up of people who were meeting for the first time and were not, 
therefore, bound together by those ties of friendship that endure small 
irritants and infirmities of temper. Many of the men soon manifested 
petulance, incivility, and a want of a spirit of accommodation. This 
resulted in much wrangling, and angry altercations arose from trifling 
matters, sometimes terminating in violence and blood. Disruptions, forming 
of new combinations only to be broken up in turn, followed with increasing 
frequency as the journey proceeded and its weary length became a tale of 
hardship and suffering. The position of a captain or leader was not always 
an agreeable one. The by-laws and regulations adopted for the government 
of the company were not easily enforced and the court of arbitrators 
appointed to decide disputes between parties and punish offenders against 
the peace and order of the company had little authority. The person 
condemned was certain to appeal to the assembly of the whole, and he was 
nearly certain of acquittal on any charge under that of robbery or murder. 
In all emigration parties there were men of desperate and depraved 
character who were perpetually endeavoring to produce discord, 
disorganization, and collision. In crossing the Missouri Line, about 
twelve miles west of Independence, the emigrants passed beyond the 
incorporated territories of the United States into the wilderness, peopled 
only by savages, with no law but that of might; hence the necessity for 
organization in the interests of law and order. 

On leaving Independence the emigrants took the Santa Fe trail for about 
fifty miles and then crossed the Wakarusa creek and traveled in a 
northwesterly direction to the Kansas river which they crossed by flatboat 
ferry three or four miles east of the present Topeka; thence west-
northwest they crossed the Big Blue river near the present town of 
Randolph, Kansas; thence northwest they struck the Little Blue river at 
about Hebron, Nebraska; thence traveling up the valley of the Little Blue 
they reached the Platte eight miles below the head of Grand island. They 
now followed up the south bank of the river, sometimes on the river 
bottom, treeless and dreary, their fuel "buffalo chips" (bois de vache), 
drinking the warm and unpleasant water of the Platte, and pestered by 
immense swarms of ravenous mosquitoes. A journey of one hundred and ten 
miles brings the pilgrims to the forks of the Platte and they follow up 
the south fork for a distance of about sixty miles and then strike across 
in a north-northwest direction and pass down Ash Hollow to the North 
Platte, a distance of twenty-two miles. The trail now ascends the north 
fork, sometimes in the river bottom, and then making a circuit to avoid 
the bluffs which wall in the river and interrupt the travel. The face of 
the country now presents characteristics which unmistakably proclaim it to 
be uninhabitable by civilized man. The light sand, driven by the bleak 
winds across the parched plains, fills the atmosphere and colors the 
vegetation with a gray coating of dust. The monotony of the scenery is 
inexpressibly dreary and the emigrant, scorched by the sun by day and 
chilled by freezing blasts by night, labors on, his enthusiasm gone and 
his anticipations dulled by the weary toil and stern privations of the 
journey. His cattle are driven off by wolves, mounted Indians stampede his 
horses, and he is yet in the first stage of his journey. Up the north fork 
runs the trail to Fort Laramie. At this point it leaves the river and 
passing through the Black hills (Laramie mountains) joins the river again 
at the ferry, near the present town of Casper, Wyoming. Here the emigrants 
say good-bye to the Platte and a journey of sixty miles of arid plains and 
bleak cliffs brings them to Independence Rock and the Sweetwater river. 
One hundred and fourteen miles up the Sweetwater and they reach the South 
pass and the backbone of the continent. Crossing the pass, the trail 
descends by a gentle declivity for two miles to Pacific spring, the waters 
of which flow into the Colorado river and the gulf of California. 

From Pacific spring the route lies west by north for twenty-eight miles 
over an arid plain covered with sage brush, to the Little Sandy, an 
affluent of the Green river; thence westerly twelve miles to the Big Sandy 
river. Here is one of the numerous "cut-offs"--a saving of distance at the 
expense of life and property. For forty-five or fifty miles the trail of 
Greenwood's Cut-off, as it is called, is across a desert without water to 
the Green river. The main trail continues down the Green about forty miles 
then leaving the river it ascends the bluffs and continuing in a 
southwesterly direction it reaches Black's Fork in a distance of fifteen 
miles. Forty miles up Black's Fork is Fort Bridger. From Fort Bridger the 
regular trail takes a northwest course to Ham's Fork, up Ham's Fork, 
across the divide, down the Muddy river to Bear river, which here runs 
northward, down the Bear to Soda springs or Beer springs, as it is 
sometimes called, thence across to Portneuf river down which the trail 
follows to Fort Hall, on Snake river. Down the Snake the emigrants travel 
for about fifty miles to Raft river where the Oregon and California 
emigrants part company. The California trail proceeded up Raft river a 
distance of about seventy-five miles, thence over the mountains to Goose 
creek, to its head waters, and thence over the desert in a southwest 
direction to the head waters of the Humboldt. 

The "Hastings' Cut-off," the taking of which proved so disastrous to the 
Donner party, was a trail passing to the south of Great Salt Lake. Leaving 
Fort Bridger and traveling in a west-northwest direction the trail passed 
over the rugged Unitah mountains to Bear river, thence over the Wasatch 
mountains to the Salt Lake valley passing "Ogden's Hole" and emerging from 
the mountains about where the city of Ogden now is, thence around the foot 
of the lake, across Tooele and Scull valleys and striking the Salt Lake 
desert after passing Cedar mountains; thence in a northwesterly direction 
about sixty-five miles, thence turning southwest for about fifteen miles, 
then westerly across the Gosiute and Peoquop ranges, thence southwest and 
south, past Eagle, or Snow Water lake, Franklin, and Ruby lakes to a low 
pass of the Humboldt range on the fortieth parallel, thence westerly 
across the mountains thirty miles to Eureka creek, or South Humboldt river 
as it was then called, thence north to the Humboldt river at Palisade 
where it joined the main emigrant trail. From here the trail followed the 
Humboldt river to its sink. Sixty-five miles above the sink, near the 
present Mill City, Nevada, the northern or Lassen route branched off from 
the main trail. From seven to nine thousand persons of the emigration of 
1849 were persuaded to take this trail, being informed that it was much 
easier, had more grass and water, etc., only to discover, to their horror, 
that this was the most dreadful road of all, and so many perished of this 
emigration that the trail was given the name of the "death route." Leaving 
the Humboldt at the Lassen Meadows the trail ran in a general northwest 
direction, passing in turn Antelope spring, Rabbit Hole spring, Black Rock 
desert, Stove Pipe spring (off the road), Mud spring, High Rock canon, 
Willow spring, and Massacre lake; then passing between Upper and Middle 
Alkali lakes, it turned north to Lassen pass and over the pass to Goose 
lake. The emigrant had traveled over one hundred and sixty miles from the 
Humboldt only to find himself over two hundred miles of rough mountain 
travel from the nearest settlement. Down the shore of Goose lake, to Pitt 
river ran the trail, down Pitt river to Horse creek, thence southerly to 
Deer creek and Peter Lassen's rancho of Bosquejo. 

From the sink of the Humboldt the emigrants had a choice of two routes. 
The central was across the desert to the Truckee river at Wadsworth, up 
the Truckee to Donner lake, over the Donner pass to the south fork of the 
Yuba, down the Yuba to Bear valley, down Bear river to Johnson's rancho, 
where the trail crossed the Bear. This was known as the Truckee and Bear 
valley route. 

The second route, known as the Carson or Mormon route, ran south from the 
Humboldt sink, to the Carson river, up the Carson to Genoa--then called 
Mormon station--thence southerly a distance of seventeen miles to West 
Carson canon through which it ascended the Sierra Nevada through Hope 
valley to Carson pass, over this pass at an elevation of nine thousand 
feet, thence by Twin lakes, Silver lake, Tragedy springs, Cold Springs 
ranch, Sly Park, Pleasant valley, and Smith's Flat, to Placerville. 

A party of forty-five men from the Mormon battalion, and one woman, wife 
of one of the soldiers, started in July 1848 from Pleasant valley to cross 
the sierra and make their way to Salt Lake. They had two small brass 
pieces, bought of Sutter, and every man had a musket. They had seventeen 
wagons, one hundred and fifty horses and about the same number of cattle. 
They had sent men in advance to make a road over which their wagons could 
pass, and three of their men, David Browett, Ezrah H. Allen, and Henderson 
Cox, were surprised and killed by Indians at a place called by them 
Tragedy springs, which name it still bears. The road they laid out became 
the Carson or Mormon route for the emigration of 1849 and subsequent 
years. They gave Hope valley its name because when they reached the valley 
they began to feel hopeful of getting through.