R W McMullin Goes West, 1894

 ©  Kathy Duncan, 2020

My suspicions about R.W. McMullin and his connection to his extended family in California have been born out. In 1894 he traveled to California to visit aunts and uncles there, and published his experience in his paper.

This begins with the second installment. I will have to look for the first part later.

We left San Francisco Friday, the 16th, at nine o'clock, and crossed the bay at Oakland ferry, a boat ride of six miles. The train left Oakland at ten. The road runs along by the bay for over thirty-five miles and then branches to the right up the San Joaquin valley. The distance from San Francisco to Fresno is 210 miles, and the road traverses one of the finest agricultural portions of the state. It is a good deal like riding through Illinois praries, finely cultivated farms all the way. The towns along the way all look prosperous, but one does not have to make inquiries to learn that the people are thinking anything but prosperous. Hard times are felt here everywhere much more so than they are in Missouri. Fresno is one of the fruit centers of the state and there are several large packing houses. Packing house here means a place for grapes, oranges, etc., are packed for shipment. There are enormous vineyards around the city and the raisin business is one of the big industries. This is one of the points we started out for as it is the house of our Aunt Margaret Pool, while Aunt Caroline McNeil and Uncle Jasper Jameson out in the country near by. These relatives we have not seen for over forty-eight years, and it was the desire to see them which brought us hither. Here we met our daughter, Laura, who has been on a visit to our relatives.

Our introduction to the City of Fresno was not very pleasant. A high wind has prevailed for two days, and the clouds of dust and sand are so dense that sometimes one can not see an object a hundred yards distant. Everybody prophecies a change by to-morrow and we may yet get to see something of the city and the surrounding orchards and vineyards.

March 17, 1894

After spending four days visiting relatives in this vicinity we have almost forgotten what we have written home, but are sure we omitted mentioning one peculiarity of the City of San Francisco. The business portion on the bay, is laid out on the plan of a crazy work patch quilt, and is unlike any place we have ever seen. Wedge shaped blocks are the rule rather than the exception and the short streets run in every direction. Fresno is quite a respectable city, laid out in well shaped squares. The streets running north and south are named for the counties of the state, while the cross streets are named for the letters of the alphabet. It has some good buildings, business blocks, churches, schoolhouses, residences, etc., but the majority are small wooden cottages. It is one of the fruit centres of the state and the citizens here think it one of the best. Of this we are not able to judge yet, but it is certainly a grand view to ride through the immense vineyards and orchards. Seedless grapes and seedless oranges are a specialty here, but wine grapes and common oranges are also plentiful, as are apricots, prunes, apples, peaches, pears, figs, etc.

Our uncles, W. McNeil and Jasper Jameson, live up on the San Joaquin river, fifteen miles from Fresno. We went out there Sunday morning and staid with them till Tuesday morning, when Uncle Jasper brought us back to town. He is an old bachelor, and we found in a 120 acre field "summer fallowing." He uses a team or six horses and a gang plow which turns a yard of ground each time and leaves it pulverized like a garden spot. Uncle McNeil has his fruit ranch rented out. He spends his time attending to his chickens, while Aunt Carrie is generally busy with her flowers.

Fresno, Cal., March 20, 1894.

After thoroughly taking in Fresno and visiting all the relatives there and at Reedley and Selma, we left Fresno at half past one this morning and came to Los Angeles to see our brother, Os, and his wife. When daylight came this morning we were traversing a beautiful country, similar to that we had been seeing for the past few days, but at 8 o'clock we struck the Mojave desert and for three hours the view was about as dismal as one could imagine. Sage brush and cacti are the only vegetation to be seen in the desert and the cactus is a peculiar species we had not met with before. It resembles sawed off pine trees more than anything else we can think of. The stems appear to be about a foot in diameter and average twelve feet in height, and tops and branches are all of the stubby or sawed off looks and with long, plue-shaped leaves in branches at the end. The route across the desert, judging from the time it took, is about sixty or seventy miles. It is mostly a level plain bordered by ugly, barren hills. We judged the plain to be about twenty miles wide on the average, but by California estimates it may be all the way from fifty to five hundred miles. In the midst of this desert stands the little town of Mojave, not a spear of vegetation near, and here we partook of the finest meal we ever saw served at a railroad hotel. They have a fine, large dining room, handsomely decorated with evergreens, and the tables were filled with meats, fruits, vegetables, etc., and the guests are given twenty-five minutes in which to eat. By each plate was a goblet of Muscatel wine, one of the brag sweet sines of California. They charge seventy-five cents for meals, but this is not an unusual price, and anyone who crosses the Mojave desert without taking a meal at the Mojave hotel misses one of the big features of the trip. We are well pleased with the little view we have had of Los Angeles and will see more of it before we leave.

Los Angeles, Cal., March 22, 1894.

Notes of our trip will doubtless appear very rambling and unsatisfactory but we can not take time to even frame an apology. Too many things to see and too little time in which to see them. We find the people here much like the people at home;  names familiar, such as Wilsons, Williams', Sheltons, etc., and habits just about the same. Coming over from Fresno our car was one of twelve crowded coaches. There was room for a toilet room for ladies in one end, but no convenience of that sort for gents, and as there was no chance for us to wash and comb we had time to be amused at the efforts of the ladies to get the dust from their faces and their hair done up, not that we could see them at work, but at watching them waiting for turn. Each lady acted as if she were the only one on the train, and when she got into the toilet room took her time in getting out. We timed a couple of them. One occupied thirty-six minutes and the other forty-five, so it is not surprising that when we reached the eating station at nine o'clock some of them had to appear at the table with faces as dirty as mens. Telegraph service is about as rapid here as at home. One afternoon at Selma we had occasion to send a telegram to Fresno, sixteen miles distant. Half an hour later we hired a rig and drove into Fresno and only beat the telegram one hour. We were pleased with the grand orchards and immense vineyards of Fresno and Tulare counties, and surprised to see ranchmen feeding raisins to their horses. We also admired the miles of growing grain, wheat, barley, etc., but we will have to vote Los Angeles the boss place after all. No other place that we have seen yet can be compared to it. Trees loaded down with oranges can be seen everywhere, and there are various other trees which bear tropical fruits, such as lemons, figs, olives, dates, English walnuts, almonds, etc., which are not now fruiting; while the flower, on trees, vines, shrubs and plants, are beyond description. Flowers abound everywhere, and every variety of them can be grown here in great profusion and at little expense, has to be protected, but a little protection from the cold March winds helps very materially.  Editor

Los Angles, Cal., March 23, 1894.