In this interview Ardis Comstock recounts her life story, focusing on her family's move to Nevada County, California during the Depression and the subsequent mining boom. Her father, a skilled carpenter and contractor, became highly sought-after for building homes for the influx of miners. Ardis describes her experiences attending school in a one-room schoolhouse, working at Douglas Aircraft during WWII, and her involvement with the Black Panthers through her husband David. She also details her family history, including her mother's immigration from Germany and her grandparents' lives as farmers and railroad workers. Throughout the interview, Ardis shares anecdotes about notable figures in the community, such as Lyman Gilmour, and reflects on the changes she has witnessed in Nevada County over the years.

Full Transcript of the Video:

Well, let's see, I was born in Klamath Falls, Oregon in 1924.

And then came, my father was a contractor and a carpenter.

And it came to the Depression and things fell apart in Klamath Falls.

But my mother had land down here that along with her German family that bought a lot of it when they came from Germany in 1898, I think that was it.

And so they said we could at least raise food.

So that's, are you going? Oh yeah, I just said take your time.

You seem to be talking awful fast.

Oh, well I always talk fast.

Okay, go ahead.

So they could at least have a cow because we did have a cow in Oregon and we couldn't leave Linda up there, the cow.

So we bought a truck and hauled Linda down here and we had a cow and calves and they got chickens and a garden and we ate just fine, like a lot of people weren't here in 19, let's see, what was that? 19, I forget.

But just before the mines really opened.

And then the mines opened and everybody came to Nevada County from all next to the country and got a job in the mines and they had some money.

Let me ask you a question.

You came here, when did you come down here? 1929.

Okay, and that was during the Depression.

Yes.

And where did you live at that time? On Idaho, Maryland Road, I think that's the, by the Idaho, Maryland mine up that road a ways.

Oh, okay.

Yeah, build a big chicken house and a house.

And you say the mines were not operating at that time? Not right at the first.

They were just thinking about it.

Which mines? All of them, you know.

I wonder why they shut down.

Do you have any idea? Well, I don't know, I never heard that they were, I don't think they were open yet.

Now see, I don't know.

Okay.

Because there wasn't, they were just starting to think about it more.

Okay.

And interest was growing in the mining because they didn't come here because of the mines.

They came here because they had land, my mother had land here.

They could grow something in California, which you can't do in Oregon very well.

Climate falls, everything freezes.

So they came down here and my father was a good carpenter, a contractor carpenter.

And as I say, they built, put their chickens in the mill and had garden and a cow.

We ate fat, you know, we ate fine.

And then the mines began to open up and everybody came here and they had to have a house.

So my father was just working day and night as a carpenter and had just very busy.

And finally, we would, my father wouldn't use this lumber for building because it was cut overnight.

And then they tried to nail it up and a week later it was peeling off the building.

And so he wasn't going to have anything to do with that.

What was his name? Woodbury Harrington Hatton.

Woodbury Harrington Hatton.

H-A-T-T-O-N.

Better known as Woodhatton.

Okay.

But he grew up in Oregon and Washington and he knew that there was good lumber up there and all those mills and they dried it.

They didn't sell it raw and like a piece of celery.

So he started building houses for my mother's relatives in Chicago Park and so on.

And he did such a good job that everybody said, "Well, if you're going to build something, get Woodhatton to do it.

" He knows what he's doing.

And so then, but he couldn't deal with this lumber.

So he went to Oregon and Washington and bought carloads of lumber from the various places up there.

All clear from both borders to pick out the best mills.

And so the railroad brought it to Colfax.

And then they transferred it to the narrow gauge.

And we had it there in, where that, oh gee, I can't remember the name of that.

On the way to between Grass Valley and Paredale.

And then we'd have to truck it to our place or take it right to the job.

And then he decided, "Well, gee, we should be on the railroad so we don't have to have this transfer of the lumber from Oregon and Washington.

" So they bought the place at Paredale.

And the narrow gauge was so happy to put in a spur, I mean a sighting, immediately.

So they would, they would, they'd unload the cars in Colfax, put it in the narrow gauge car and bring them to our place.

And my father built a big lumber shed.

And we'd hire some kids that were just dying to have a job and put the lumber in that shed.

And then it went fine.

But my father was up day and night practically because the guys, and so many people just kept coming in here from all over the country, Oklahoma, all the states where they didn't have jobs at that time.

And so he would, my brain is going, "Oh, he'd be up, people couldn't come regular working hours, so they'd come when they were office.

" So my father was in the office helping him, "How many kids do you have? How big a house do you need? And what kind of money can you afford?" And so he was day and night with customers.

Sounds like he was as much an architect as a building contractor.

Well, yes, in the way that, you mean, how, what, what, uh.

.

.

He would design the houses, as a matter of fact.

Uh, yes, kind of.

And then we found good contractors that came from Oklahoma, like the, gee, I can't remember their names right now, and some other good contractors, and they knew what they were doing.

And my father worked well with them, and the customers trusted.

So it was a wonderful operation.

Everybody was pleased.

And there's like so many houses around here that I can recognize it because they're still good looking buildings because the lumber was good.

And so this cut here is they fell apart years ago and dissolved because it wasn't dried.

And so they were there since, until the war came along.

And the World War II, is it, or whatever it is? Yeah.

They shut the mines down.

Yeah, they shut the mines down.

And of course my father was, he went to Los Angeles and worked in for Howard Hughes.

And his job turned out to be to talk to Howard Hughes after everybody else had gone home, and at midnight shift, because Howard Hughes was up all night, you know.

And he, and my father was just checking the lighting and, uh, at that time, he was in his 60s, 70s, I guess, that, he went to a job like that.

So it was just Howard and he in the whole building.

But Howard said, "The heck with the lighting, come in here, let's talk.

" And he'd spend his whole time talking, it was interesting, but, you know, just, he was a funny guy, Howard Hughes.

But they'd just chat.

And so then, I went to, my father, I went down there to work for Douglas, and we got an apartment right near the ocean, Ocean Park, where we got a place, right off the boardwalk.

And then my neighbor's girlfriend, Marilyn Green, came, and so she and I worked at Douglas, and my father worked for Howard Hughes.

What did you do at Douglas? I was, gee, I worked on A20, final assembly.

And my- The aircraft A20s.

Yeah, yeah, A20 aircraft.

And my job was putting all the final plugs, or the furniture in the cockpit, all the little knobs, make sure they were on so the guys could, they would work well.

And so I'd set up there and freeze on the graveyard shift, and then every day, they'd get us one airplane done, you know, and then take it out, open up that whole side of the building, and we'd all freeze for a while.

They got that coal down there.

Oh, yes, at midnight shift.

You bet right on the ocean.

Yeah.

And my Marilyn, my girlfriend, she was working for, I forget where she was working.

Do you remember how much you got paid when you were working at Douglas? I'm having a clue.

Okay.

Do you have a clue? But, and then before, I got a job at one of the dance halls right there, the Casino Gardens, had a photo booth, and so I made extra money taking pictures of everybody who'd come to the dance, and that was fun.

Yeah.

What did you charge them, your ever? Oh, no, I, yeah, I don't remember.

And then also we went to the college, Marilyn and I, in the afternoon.

So we were busy and had a good time.

You mean you went to school at the college? Yeah, at Santa Monica Junior College.

Okay.

Hey, would you start off at your first grammar school? Oh, that was at Bear River here, and, you know, we're on the Colfax Highway where it used to be, and we had one room, and sometimes we had ten kids, and sometimes we had maybe thirty-some, all in one room and one teacher, a wonderful teacher, Fern Rolfe, from Chicago Park.

What was her name? Her name was Fern Rolfe, and I think there's some of the, sure there's some of the Rolfe family folks.

Is that V-E-R-N? Vern? No, Fern, F-E-R-N.

F-E-R-N? Yeah, her name was Fern.

Fern, Waltz? Rolfe.

Spell that.

R-O-L-P-H.

R-O-L-P-H, okay.

And she had her niece there for a while, and we always called her Miss Rolfe, you know, the rest of us, but the niece insisted on calling her Aunt Fernie, which is all right, you know, everybody liked it, you know, it was all right.

And there was all, as I say, there was, and some of the kids came from Cedar Ridge, and some of them were, as I say, they came with their parents from Oklahoma pushing their cars the last few miles into Grass Valley to get a job.

And so there was all degrees of background, and it was very interesting.

And Fern Rolfe was the most wonderful teacher.

She was so dear and so understanding.

She just took all of it in stride.

Now, some people couldn't have handled all this so quickly in a one-room school, and they finally moved the school right next to where my parents were built in Paredale, and it's a very blue house they've added on, but I'm glad they didn't just burn it and tear it down like some of the old schools.

Yeah.

And so it's still thriving there.

How many years did you go to school there? I went to six years, I guess, because while we were still living on the Idaho-Marilyn Road, before the war really started, I went to Washington School in Grass Valley, and wonderful teachers there.

Miss Caddy was a great teacher.

You went there after? No, this is for first and second grade.

Oh, okay.

And I started there, and then my folks moved to Paredale after that.

And so two years there, and then graduated every day.

We walked a mile and seven tenths to school.

I did, and it was fine.

Yeah.

And so that grammar school was just wonderful.

It was like a family.

And I'm an only child, so I enjoyed, added like a bunch of brothers and sisters.

So after grammar school, where did you go? When the war came on, Miss Caddy, my father went to work for Howard Hughes.

He didn't really need a job, but he wanted something to do.

And that was the ideal thing, just being joshing with Howard Hughes when he was lonesome there at night.

And my mother, oh, the last two years of high school, my mother had brought property in Sharp Park down below San Francisco, about twenty, thirty years before.

And my father built her a house there.

And I was doing a lot of singing, and so my mother thought I should go down there and have better teachers or something.

So my father built a house at Sharp Park, two houses from the beach.

And so then I graduated from this high school right near there.

I can't remember the town now.

So you went from the sixth grade to high school? Let's see, I went to the sixth grade here, and then when I was in the sophomore I moved to San Francisco area.

Okay.

So you went from the sixth grade to high school? Yeah, I mean, where? What are you saying? Well, Fern, your teacher was Fern.

I graduated eighth, the eighth grade.

Oh, the eighth grade? Yes.

Oh, I wouldn't have left Bear River School without graduating.

And then went to Grass Valley High Schools.

Okay.

Oh, I'm sorry, fast.

And had Josephino Choa for a Spanish teacher, who was wonderful.

And it turned out she was also David's Spanish teacher later in the Bay Area.

And we still are friends with her, so that was a nice cross-reference.

And so, but I was taking singing lessons and singing in the, in churches and getting paid for it once in a while.

And so my mother thought I should become a singer, you know.

So she had this property in Sharp Park, so we moved down there.

My father built a house.

And I had a singing teacher that would come there and give me lessons.

Marshall Geisland, what a character.

Well, and we had a good choir at the high school in Daly City, and a marvelous teacher there.

Another friend that also taught in David's school a little later in the Bay Area.

And so I, we went to the opera.

That was a wonderful thing.

Got to go to the opera in San Francisco.

So, and then I graduated there, and then, it was up in the war.

And then I came back up here, and gee, what did I do then? Oh, gee, I rallied you so much.

Well, now, look, you, uh.

Then I got married.

Oh, you got married after high school? Well, after the war.

After college, after two years of college.

Two years of college? What did you take in college? Where did you go to college? Auburn, Sierra.

Auburn, Sierra? Yeah, uh, what did they call it? Well, Auburn, anyhow, the junior college.

Okay, junior college.

And what did you take? Music and, um, um, geography or, um, net, um, world history and that sort of thing.

Yeah, general.

I wasn't really working for anything.

I just took what I liked.

Ah, and I got married.

So, two years of college, junior college, and then you got married? Yeah.

Who'd you marry? Uh, Bill Bell, I think, yeah.

Bill Bell.

Yeah, he's still around here.

Oh, okay.

And, um, and then, then I didn't, then we parted and I married somebody else and then finally I found the right one, David.

And I had four children out of that.

I went back to Oregon for two years and we were going to grow, uh, filverts on a, so when did you go back to Auburn? Uh, we'll go back to Oregon.

Oregon, Oregon and, uh, gee, I, um, maybe, I don't know.

Were you married at that time? Yes, let's see.

To whom were you married? Uh, Bill, Bill then.

Okay.

I can't remember what year that was.

But I had, I had one child and I had two child children, so you can figure, go figure.

And so we planted a lot of filverts and then, uh, later we found out that the trees were not going to ever be well because they got skinned on the little plantings.

So then we came back here to, uh, Trash Valley and, uh, lived at the lair where the stone arch is, you know.

Yes.

And, uh, where'd you call it? The, the lair.

I call it the lair because people thought we had, uh, uh, gee, what's it, how did I get that? I've forgotten.

Oh, the Black Panthers.

Oh, later.

That was the later.

Uh, I'll tell you about that.

Uh, why it got the lair, but that's jumping.

But any, uh, anyhow, um.

Let me just say that the arch is there at 174 at Paradale.

Mm-hmm.

Yeah.

Okay.

It used to have an eagle on top of the arch.

Yes, it has again.

Oh, does it? Um, eagles, the kids would break it down and somebody else would put another one up.

And they are still continuing to make a new eagle.

I'm glad to have that.

Oh, good.

Um, gee, my chain of thought.

I just got ripped.

Where was I? Well, you were, you were, you were coming back to California after trying to raise Filbert's.

Yes.

And we were, found out later we, we got bad plants.

Yeah.

My mother was so gullible.

And so then I, that marriage didn't work.

And then I got married again and that one didn't work.

Whom did you marry that time? Uh, let's see.

I forget the, well, Bill Bell was the second one.

I forget the first one.

I can't remember his name.

Okay.

The bus driver.

And then I married Milton O'Neill, a real nice fellow from, also from Oregon.

And we have two children.

And, uh, but, uh, he was working at the fruit growers and I was just, oh, then I was, uh, then I went to work for the census.

For the census? Yeah.

No, that was after, then our marriage didn't work out.

So I divorced Milton O'Neill and then I went to work for the census and I had all of California for a while to, uh, hire a different, they did, the census didn't come count people and ask their names and so on, but they would do various, uh, uh, searches for information for the government, like, uh, uh, interviews on, uh, E.

Hing and, do you, David, do you remember what else? No.

He's not listening.

Yeah.

Rat.

But, um, the census just doesn't count people.

In fact, I never did get to do that, go around and just count people, but we'd have, uh, they'd have various censuses taken in different parts of the country.

Maybe I had Susanville in another little county up there for a while and I had to hire the people and train them and then they'd run around and ask all the questions.

And, um, that was great, that was fun, oh, I was not home much.

My mother took care of the children and they got along.

But it was, there weren't any really jobs around here unless I sort of found them.

I did that for a month or so, but, um, so I was very glad to have the census and finally I had, um, uh, people, uh, other people trained all over, went into California together and I'd have to see them once every two weeks.

So I was on the road then a lot.

You had your own car.

Yeah, yeah, thank goodness.

Yeah, and so that was an interesting study to, um, uh, on different censuses.

Gee, I forget what some of the, a little bit of health surveys and, um, uh, housing surveys and just to get the idea of what people were thinking about things happening to them.

Sure.

Especially things.

And, um, then I came back here and, when did I meet David? Well, that was the end of running around the country.

And so, um, we got married and then we, uh, How'd you meet David? Uh, uh, an ex-bo introduced him.

That was to, bye-bye ex-bo.

Was this here at Grass Valley? Yes, yeah.

I'm trying to think, uh, where'd I, something I left out here, a track, I guess, well, anyhow.

So yes, and that's, that's the best thing that ever happened to me, meeting David.

He's a wonderful person, lots of brains and a good memory, and very even and, uh, handed.

And it's a pleasure.

And so, and then we, uh, we built this house out here, the two of us, which is- When did you build this house? When did we build the house? He's not listening.

Rat.

Well, gee, ten, twelve, thirteen years ago, I forget.

Time escapes me from numbers like that.

And we did it ourselves, and we, David had a very good friend in the Bay Area, who's a wonderful architect, and I can't think of his name right now, but he designed this, and we chatted well to see what we wanted, and could we build it? We told him that we were going to build it.

So he had to figure out how to manage how to lift all the timbers and so on.

And so that was very good fun.

We lifted the layer where, while we were doing this.

And, um, so, uh, we got the house built and then moved out here, and, and had, had, and bought this land, and thank goodness it has good wells, good water.

That's something in this country you have to be careful of.

Yeah.

And, um, so, um, that's why we're here, and very happy about it all.

Tell me about the Black Panther.

The Black Panther? Oh, well, David got involved in the Black Panthers in, in, uh, Berkeley when they were, you know, doing their thing.

And we, we liked the Black people.

I, gee, I always liked Black people.

I, I couldn't ever understand why people would say, "You're Black, you're bad.

" And we always had Black friends.

And, and David kind of, I guess he was an auxiliary, wasn't Black, but he was into the Black Panthers.

And we'd have meetings and marches and so on, and talk about things like that.

Is that having to do with calling the property there, the layer? Uh, yes.

I guess it did.

People thought we were, they were, they did come and visit us a couple of times, in which we were grateful.

So, people got the word around.

They said, "Oh, yes, that's the Panthers' layer.

" Okay.

So, people narrow-minded.

Uh, could you talk about your antecedents? Your parents and your grandparents? My mother came from Germany in 1898 with her Sontag family, because things were really tough in Germany.

Her name was Sontag? S-O-N-N-T-A-G.

And, um, they came here, and they were Lutherans.

And they heard about this nice Lutheran group in Chicago Park.

So, they came here, and they, my parents bought, I, what is it, a thousand acres? I don't know, it's a big, between here and Grass, uh, the highway, and planted grapes.

And, um, my grandfather was a Blacksmith, and he worked for the narrow gauge railroad for years, so he had to go to work in Grass Valley for years.

What was his name? Herman Sontag.

Okay.

And, um, they planted these, uh, grapes, and they planted them on a hill that was facing the east, got the sunshine early, and plenty of NID water.

And they would be very sweet grapes, and people would come from, buy from, uh, who got them from, in Nevada, buy from my grandparents' grapes, because it was a very sweet and made wonderful line.

And, uh, my mother, as they say, grew up, came there in 1898 from Germany, and, uh, so, um, um, what next? I don't know, let's take a break.

Oh.

Here we go.

Now, you were telling me that your grandmother was a Sontag.

Uh, yes.

And she -- She married a Sontag, Herman Sontag, in Germany.

Okay.

And she came here with, uh, about ten kids -- they had about, well, maybe, about ten kids, maybe, when they came here.

And Herman Sontag was her father? He was Herman Sontag, and my grandmother, uh, married.

Okay.

And then they also had a son, Herman, naturally.

Oh, okay.

Now, which one was the, uh, blacksmith with the Neregaze Railroad? Um, my grandfather, Herman.

Okay.

And, uh, so he'd have to get to work every day from Sontag Ranch out here on Yvette Road.

Okay.

And, uh, he'd go -- he'd go -- walk -- get to the highway, and then he'd hit you right on the train, you know, into town.

Yeah.

And they'd drop him off, and then he'd walk home three miles.

So now -- and your grandfather was a Hatton.

My other grandfather was a Hatton.

Yes.

And from England, yeah, and Minnesota.

And he married a Sontag.

No.

He married, uh, I don't know what my -- Ruth -- I don't know what my Ruth was named.

Um, the Hatton grandfather, um, was, as I say, not married -- well, gee, I don't know where we were, but he married an -- so I had two grandparents.

That makes sense, doesn't it? Yes.

Okay.

Sontag's here, and Hatton's in Minnesota.

Okay.

And, um -- And the Hatton's had a child -- had a man child.

Yeah, it had about nine or ten, you know, in those days, like the Sontag's, nine or ten or eleven.

Okay.

And, um, your father was a Hatton.

Yeah, the youngest Hatton.

And your mother was -- The oldest Sontag.

Okay.

Okay, so they -- my mother was, um, working for the railroad during the war, and on the -- of a truckie.

And, um, I don't know what -- I forget kind of what her job was, but as the trains went by -- oh, she took all the messages from Sacramento because they didn't have the communication that they do now.

So she would get the communications from Sacramento, and then she'd put them on a -- put them on a piece of paper, and on a -- hang it out the window on her little office up above truckie, and the train would come by and catch that little message, and then they'd read it, and they'd say no -- they'd know what Sacramento was trying to tell them.

Okay.

And I guess at that time they -- and now I suppose trains listen all over the world, but in those days there wasn't communication from Sacramento while the train was on the track.

Is that so, I guess? Sure.

Also, that's what she was doing, and my father was being a carpenter, and they met, and they liked each other, and got married and moved to Susanville.

And they had a -- made good friends with a lady with a couple up there, and they had a daughter named Artis.

And so when my parents had me, they decided to call me Artis, and I'm so glad that I don't have many marbles now, but poor little Artis that I was named after never had many.

She was very low in the frame power, but they were lovely people.

Yeah.

So I'm glad I am.

But you were born in Klamath Falls? Yes.

Okay.

My father was a carpenter, and things were -- he didn't have enough work at truckie and so on.

So they moved to Klamath Falls, which was kind of booming and timber, I guess.

And so he got -- oh, and my mother was going to open a tea room in Klamath Falls out on the lake.

They bought property on Klamath Lake right away.

And I still have some of the little cups and things she made.

And she did have this tea room for, I don't know, maybe a year out there.

And my father was a carpenter and built -- and Klamath Falls was growing then.

The mills were growing.

And then it was a -- that's a terrible place to live.

It's a darn cold, you know.

And my mother had some of the Sontag property down here.

So they said, "Well, gee, California, the mines are opening.

It's busy there.

Why don't we move on your land and get away from this cold Klamath climate?" So then in 1929, I think they moved down here and built a house on that road up from Empire Mine.

And my father was just a marvelous, good -- excellent carpenter.

So he got all the jobs he could handle.

But he was still hating some of the lumber.

So he said, "Well, gee, why don't we get some of this good lumber that I know about?" So they bought the property on the Colfax Highway where the -- you know, where the stone arch is.

And then also they bought that because the train would bring the lumber from Oregon and Washington to put it in our yard right there.

They put a spur track in.

Yeah.

They put a spur -- a siding so you go through.

And so then -- and then, as I say, I was talking before about that.

They got so terribly busy.

It's squalling.

And the miners came.

And my father was -- and they get off -- as a shift, get off the miners, they get off their shift, as I said before.

And so he'd be there morning, noon, and night in the office if they let him, figuring how much money they had, how many kids they had, what size of the house they had to have, and what they could afford.

That was the main thing.

And he was very popular, and everybody told him about it.

But then finally he'd drag himself to bed, and then they'd be there waiting in the morning when he was trying to have coffee.

I just got off my shift at the mine, you know.

Can you help me? Oh, dear.

Just warmed it.

And then that -- I went to high school here two years.

And then when the war ended, of course, this place fell apart.

Grass Valley kind of -- everything went kind of way down.

Everybody was going to the war -- working the war effort.

And so my mother had this part -- this lot in -- just from Sharp Park, San Francisco, I think I mentioned.

And so my father built a house down there, and my parents weren't really getting along, and they were -- they had been hard.

So it was good, the thing, that they didn't have to stick together.

So my father built her house, and then I got to go to a bigger high school.

So I took two years high school here, and then in -- in Daly City, Jefferson High School, and that was a wonderful school.

And so I went to high school there, and had Josephino Choa, a teacher there who David had in -- across the Bay, and several -- two or three teachers we shared through our -- going to various high schools, which was very interesting.

And so my mother -- and finally my mother -- after I graduated from high school down there, she moved back up here.

And I -- then the war came along, and so I moved to -- and my father got a job in Santa Monica with -- oh, Howard Hughes.

I mentioned him before.

Yeah.

And David said Howard Hughes all the time.

But he -- that was an unkind thing to say about Howard Hughes, because he was so fascinating and interesting and a very good person.

Interesting guy, yeah.

Yes.

So then my father said, "Well, come down here, and you can go to college.

" And -- and Wells worked in the aircraft factory.

So I and my girlfriend, Marilyn Green, and her father worked for us in the lower yard, so we were close.

And we moved down there and got a -- an apartment right across from the casino garden's ballroom on the strip there on the ocean.

And I -- did I tell you that before? Yeah.

Yeah, so I sang with the dance band sometime.

Mostly I had this little photo studio.

And then midnight we go to our shift at Douglas Aircraft, and then we come home and go to college, Santa Monica College.

We weren't bored.

I bet you weren't.

And my father was working for Hughes, and then -- You had flaming red hair at the time, did you not? Yeah.

I was very sorry to hear that.

Yes.

Yeah.

Oh, that's tough on people to have red hair.

Why? Oh, people think they're all hot and bothered and nervous and mean and jumpy and silly, you know, silly things.

Yes.

And then my mother was up here with cows and chickens by herself, and she wasn't -- and she was getting lame and so on.

So after two years down there, I guess, I came back to really help her.

She needed help.

And my father stayed down there and worked for Hughes until that folded, and then he retired and stayed down there.

And so then my mother and I went to Sierra College together.

She always wanted more education a couple of years and lived at the lair.

And let's see.

And then I -- well, yeah, then I got married and moved back to Washington.

And how far do we have to go on this? That's okay.

So you said you knew Peggy Law.

Very briefly here.

She was a little older than you.

Yes.

Such a beautiful young lady.

Yes.

And we knew the parents maybe more than -- Charles Law and his wife? Yeah.

And my mother was friends with them.

Did you know Connie Law? Gee, the name -- yes, I must have known Connie.

She was a little younger than Peggy.

But I -- what was I doing? I was -- oh, I was working for the census then.

Yeah.

So I wasn't home much.

Yeah.

I was all over California for a while, so I didn't go with my mother.

Did you go -- did you ride the Nargate Railroad to any of the people? Never.

And I'm very unhappy about that.

Oh, you never rode it? No, they wouldn't let me.

My parents thought I'd fall off the tracks and I'd get killed.

That's terrible.

They -- because it did fall and have accidents quite frequently.

Oh, yes.

Yeah, it did.

And they just thought that way.

And they wasn't able to pay for it or anything, you know.

Darn.

But they used to take people out to picnics and such things.

Yes, and I'd see the train go by, but of course I was going to the wrong church, you know.

I was going to Christian Science Church, my mother's church.

Oh.

And so they did -- that outfit didn't join in this frivolity, going to the picnic.

Oh, yes.

Oh, what I've missed.

Yeah.

So -- Well, let's take a break.

Okay.

I don't -- oh.

Comment on the changing aspects of Nevada County as you see it.

Oh, changing aspects of Nevada County? It has grown like every other town in the United States, especially here in California, and changed a lot from a little agricultural and mining community.

And the wonderful miners that we had from Cornwall, those lovely Cornish people, just marvellous.

And that's a treasure for this area to have come to Grass Valley, Nevada County, those wonderful people.

And was -- Highway 174 paved all the way to Colfax? No.

Where does it pavement stop? Right about Union Hill.

Okay.

And lots of times it would be stuck people out in front of our place, and they'd -- we'd get a truck or something and help them pull their vehicle out of the mud.

And yeah, the highway, the 174 was terrible.

How about Lower Colfax Highway? Lower Colfax? That's not paved today, but -- Oh, well, that was just gravel.

Yeah.

It was probably better than 174 was trying to be because it was an old road.

Yeah.

And sometimes we would prefer to go that, even if we really wanted to get to town and it had been raining.

You'd go to Colfax and -- I mean, to Chicago Park and pick up 174, and you could very likely make it better to Union Hill than if you were trying to go -- especially right by in front of our place there.

That was a really bog.

Yeah.

Okay.

More questions? Now you have four children.

My four children.

Well, Carl Bell is the oldest, and he is -- gee, David knows what he does now, but he's been a carpenter and done a lot of work in the Truckee Tahoe area, and he has a big crew now and working in the Sacramento area.

I see him more.

That's nice.

And George is a schoolteacher in Southern California, and he's very good at that, and he is married.

And Mark is a physician assistant.

He wanted to be a doctor, but we didn't -- not enough money quite came through to get him through all that, but he is a physician assistant in Los Angeles.

And my daughter Barbara is a school bus driver, and she has -- I think she's going to retire next week or next month or something.

And she always had -- worked for elementary school kids, and she never has any trouble with any of the kids, never had.

And if they get up at E or something's wrong, she just stops the bus and gets out her book, and the passengers say, "Oh, we'll never get home unless we straighten this out," and they would straighten it out, and their group had to, you know.

That was wonderful.

That was wonderful for the kids.

And they knew she wouldn't budge until it had all been ironed out, and everybody was in their seat, and the seat was quiet.

So she lives over there, and she's going to retire in two or three years.

Where does she live? Santa Rosa.

Okay.

Yeah.

Now, four questions.

Oh.

You know, Lyman Gilmour, he was always a very kind man.

Gee, he was really fuzzy, of course.

And I don't think he ever took a bath.

I think people have kind of corroborated that.

But he and my father were good friends, because Lyman would come out and talk, he went to buy some lumber.

And he'd stay four or five hours if there were no other customers.

My father and he'd talk.

See, I wish I knew everything.

I wish I'd had a recorder on his history.

And then, do you remember when I got stuck on that? Lyman.

Gee, he lost the track.

Hello for Brad.

Hello for Brad? Oh.

Yeah, he'd go shopping and he'd buy a loaf of bread or two or more.

And he wouldn't take bags from the grocery, but he stuffed them all in his clothes and he looked like a lady with a hoop skirt sometimes.

And I don't think he ever took a bath.

My father was very happy to have him come and visit, and we opened the doors afterwards.

Did he ever talk about his inventions or his gold mine up there? He must have to my father, but we weren't there.

My father would tell us something about it later on, but I didn't retain it.

We didn't know what a—well, he was a brilliant man, but there are a lot of people that don't, you know, that will part their hair right and all, but they're smart.

Sure.

And come on, get some clues here, David.

What next? Well, go ahead.

Another great Vatican family was the Leduc family, L-E-D-U-C.

I don't know whether the D was capitalized or not, but— Well, they have a street called Leduc.

Yes, of course.

Okay.

And Alonzo, I think he was maybe the oldest of the family, and you could hear him for miles.

You could hear my mother for miles.

They were a pair, just loud talkers.

You know, I've ever known somebody who talked— Oh, yes.

Yes, you know.

And so they'd go by our—I don't know why they were going down our road and their horses were looking.

They'd get stuck and say we'd have to help them out in their mud.

And so that's the Dukes, and they were—I don't know.

I knew the younger girl in high school, Margaret, I think.

So that's what I know about them.

Okay.

And Lyman Gilmour— Lyman Gilmour.

Oh, yes, he was the one that would come out and want to talk to my father.

And once in—I don't know if you ever—I don't think he ever bought any lumber.

He didn't have any reason to buy a lumber.

But he would come out, and my father's office was open all hours to get these people from the different shifts.

You know, if they could come, he'd deal with them.

They were that—the only time they could come.

And what were we talking about the—what was the—you said the name? Lyman Gilmour.

And I wish I had knew—I wish I was able to tape what he and my father talked about, because he would be in there two or three hours at night talking to my father, and they'd chat back and forth.

Sure.

My father liked aviation.

Yeah.

But he was—oh, then you'd have to send us—he went to all the doors and windows and went, "Ah, ah.

" He never took a bath.

Oh, dear.

He was against that.

How about Pritzsey? Huh? How about Pritzsey? Pritzsey, our dear? Oh, my mother was delivering lumber to—my mother drove the truck.

my mother drove the trucks, my father didn't like to drive so he stayed home and did the office and my mother delivered the lumber with the trucks.

And she delivered some to Allegheny and she was coming home in the evening and she saw something in the road and so she slowed down and I was a mountain lion.

And it went up the hill and then there was this little rag at the bottom.

The mountain lion had dropped this little born deer.

And so she got out and picked it up and it had one little bloody spot over its eye and so she brought it home naturally so it thought it wasn't dead.

And we had him for seven or eight years.

We built an acreage fence there by between our place and the store for Fritzy.

We kept him in the house until he was big and he liked to slide on the hardwood floors in the halls.

That was fun, you know, and then he'd end up like a bunch of coat hangers.

And so we kept him up and in the house until he got too much.

We built that fence and house for him.

And dear Fritzy.

Did you ever think he was tamed? Oh yes, oh he was tamed.

I found a cigarette.

Oh and for a while we'd, before we built a fence we had him on a chain in the front yard so he wouldn't get run away, you know, he'd get hurt.

And some of our customers for the lumber yard would come and want a pet Fritzy, which was fine.

But if they had a cigarette in the mouth he would grab that cigarette and chew it up and eat it fast.

Lit or not, didn't seem to bother him.

But he was crazy for tobacco.

Isn't that interesting? Yes.

And I don't know my father wouldn't plant somebody but he'd finally, you know, have a cigarette in his mouth.

But they said, oh, they could feed him a cigarette if they wanted, you know, a piece of candy or something.

I don't know, too many cigarettes would have been bad for him.

But, you know, that was a treat to some of the customers.

Oh I fed that deer a cigarette, you know.

What ever happened to the deer, do you know? My mother, when I went to, when my father and I mother and I went to work at Los Angeles, it got too much for her to take care of him.

So she gave him to the Roseville Zoo.

And I hope he had good friends there.

Oh wow.

And when she picked him up he had just one scar over his eye that wasn't bleeding badly.

But she chased that mountain lion away the truck and we got a deer for how many years, eight years or something.

Yeah, what's your table? I don't think you can turn them loose.

No, that would have been terrible.

So she finally, as I say, negotiated with the zoo and they were glad to take him.

And he was, I don't know how many years he'd lasted there, well, he was in the normal time I guess.

Well that sounds like a good interview.

Ugh.

[silence]