“These are people who’ve been coming… overland… as early as August [1848]. They’ve been coming by ships since December. They’ve been coming from Hawaii, from Oregon, from Chile, from Sonora. They’ve been pouring in. The world rushed into California.”
-J.S. Holliday
“There were good diggings here in ’48,” he continues, in heavily accented but perfect English. “Last spring, you could have taken a knife and picked out chunks of gold from rock splits.”
You introduce yourself to the young man and offer your hand.
“Name is Strauss,” he says, shaking your hand vigorously. The palm of his hand is tough, like dry leather. “Born in Bavaria, raised on the streets of New York.”
SHACKS LIKE THIS WERE THE ONLY FRAMED BUILDINGS IN 1849 GOLD COUNTRY
At Strauss’s feet is a large wheeled crate with rope handles. His brother in New York sends a dozen crates of wholesale goods every week; Strauss picks up the goods — iron tools, umbrellas, bolts of cloth, or whatever comes at a bargain — and hauls it out to the Sacramento Valley.
The harsh conditions of the gold fields put everything in demand, he explains.
When you tell Strauss you were a clerk in New York, he arches an eyebrow.
“You heard the same stories in New York, then, did you not?” he asks. “Gold dust blowing in through the windows, catching in the curtains? Men washing out their beards, collecting enough gold dust to make rings and bracelets? Please tell me you did not purchase any gold grease.”
You look down, poking at a small rock with the toe of your boot, the sun beating down on your sunburned neck.
“I would like to hire you to help with my ledgers,” he offers. “Small stores are springing like weeds all over California. I can’t supply them all by myself.”
You think about how far you’ve traveled, and the drudgery of your old job in New York. Would you sacrifice a chance at fortune, just to balance the books for a man even younger than you?
“I will not pressure you,” Strauss says, sensing your hesitation. “But my fortune lies in mining the miners, not the gold.”