Insightful, engaging and well written with plenty of first-hand accounts (including news reports, journals and letters which I loved). The book clearly explains the reasons for the rush, it describes the nightmares of the journey, the dismal situation at the diggings and in the cities like San Francisco and Sacramento.
The reader will meet a myriad of colourful characters: con artists, entrepreneurs, adventurers, very few women and, of course, the throng of miners (including foreigners) all brought together by the same dream: Gold!
The newspaper cartoons, ads for ship passages, original drawings, illustrations and old pictures with corresponding captions included in the book were very interesting too.
Fav. Quotes:
The to-go-or-not-to-go conflict pitted not only wary fathers against eager sons but two deeply held beliefs against each other. One was the age-old fear that the world punishes its dreamers, the other the new American gospel that people shaped their own destiny.
Often men turned down jobs with a guaranteed wage double what they were likely to earn in the mines. What was the choice, really? The moment a man took a job with a salary, no matter how high, the possibility of an unbounded future vanished and an impenetrable ceiling crashed into place. Security was not the stuff of dreams; opulence and independence were. Treasure, not wages!
This two-edged freedom—the freedom to be left alone (to do as you pleased) and to be left on your own (regardless of need)—marked California from the outset. Here was a society that was cosmopolitan, rowdy, violent, brand-new, thrilled with itself when it was not horrified, exploding in size, knee-deep in wealth, with no entrenched leadership class but instead a churning, changing hierarchy based on fortunes newly made and newly lost.
Money Above All remained the credo of the age. Surprisingly, this grab-it-now doctrine bound men together more than it drew them apart. Everyone sought the same prize—gold—with the same tools—muscles, diligence, luck. While they dug endless day after endless day, they all baked under the same sun and shivered in the same streams. That experience of shared hope and shared misery seemed to unite men separated by deep gulfs of language and culture, in one of the most multinational societies the world had ever seen.
In California failure was an option; sometimes it seemed almost a requirement. Nearly all of California’s rich men had risen and fallen again and again, the trajectory of their careers almost always a jagged peak-and-valley sawtooth rather than a smooth incline.
This, too, set California apart. The notion in the East had always been that to fail in business was to suffer a humiliation that could last a lifetime. People stared and whispered at their fallen neighbors with an almost lascivious malice. A man’s reputation as fiscally sound, nineteenth-century moralists delighted in pointing out, was akin to “a woman’s chastity, which a breath of dishonor may smirch and sully forever.”
But Californians seemed almost to take pride in their falls. “In any little random gathering of a dozen men in San Francisco, you will probably find some among them who have been wealthy on three or four occasions and then poor again,” wrote one miner-turned-journalist. “When men fail they do not despair… they hope to be rich again.”