"I reached my hand down and picked it up; it made my heart thump, for I was certain it was gold. The piece was about half the size and shape of a pea. Then I saw another."
After making the greatest find in the history of the West, Marshall and the other workers went back to work. But they kept stumbling upon more gold.
Still in disbelief, Marshall took samples back to Sutter's Fort. Sutter and Marshall tested the shiny metal as best they could--a tattered encyclopaedia gave them clues. It was gold, they concluded--but neither man was happy about it. Sutter was building an agricultural fiefdom, he didn't want the competition that gold-seekers might bring. And Marshall had a sawmill to build, gold hunters would just get in his way. So they made a pact to keep the discovery a secret. But it wasn't long before stories of gold filtered into the surrounding countryside. Yet there was no race to the American River. The news of Marshall's gold was just another fantastic tale too unlikely to be believed.
The gold rush needed a booster, and Sam Brannan provided this. A San Francisco merchant, Brannan was a skilled craftsman of hype. Eventually, the gold rush would make him the richest person in California but Sam Brannan never mined for gold. He had a different scheme a plan he set into motion by running through the streets of San Francisco shouting about Marshall's discovery. As proof, Brannan held up a bottle of gold dust. It was a masterstroke that would spark the rush for gold and make Brannan rich.
Brannan keenly understood the laws of supply and demand. His wild run through San Francisco came just after he had purchased every pick axe, pan and shovel in the region. A metal pan that sold for twenty cents a few days earlier, was now available from Brannan for fifteen dollars. In just nine weeks he made thirty-six thousand dollars.
By the winter of 1848, whispers of a gold strike had drifted eastward across the country--but few easterners believed. It was an age when rumours were discounted--and government officials were revered. The gold discovery needed validation, and President James Polk delivered just that in early December, 1848:
"The accounts of the abundance of gold in that territory are of such extraordinary character as would scarcely command belief were they not corroborated by authentic reports of officers in the public service."
Polk's confirmation reached deep into the soul of millions. His simple words were a powerful call to action. Farmers left their fields; merchants closed their shops; soldiers left their posts--and made plans for California. Newspapers fanned the fires. Horace Greeley the of New York Tribune said:
"Fortune lies upon the surface of the earth as plentiful as the mud in our streets. We look for an addition within the next four years equal to at least One Thousand Million of Dollars to the gold in circulation."
By early 1849, gold fever was an epidemic. Discussions of gold could be heard at nearly every kitchen table in the nation. Young men explained to their wives that a year apart would be worth the hardship. They said their goodbyes and streamed west in unison--thousands of young adventurers with a collective dream - a year of pain in return for a lifetime of riches. They were dubbed "forty-niners" because they left home in 1849. When they would return, was another matter entirely.
In 1848 and early 49, everyone was making money--but the party didn't last forever. For most miners, it didn't last very long at all.
By mid 1849, the easy gold was gone--but the 49ers kept coming. There was still gold in the riverbeds, but it was getting harder and harder to find. A typical miner spent 10 hours a day knee-deep in ice cold water, digging, sifting, and washing. It was backbreaking labor that yielded less and less.
As panning became less effective, the miners moved to more advanced techniques for extracting the precious metal. But it was a losing battle as the gold reserves were declining and the number of miners was increasing dramatically. The atmosphere of friendly camaraderie so prevalent a year or two earlier, was all but gone by 1850. Forty-niners who expected to make their fortune in a few days found themselves digging for month after month--year after year--with little to show for the effort. Frustration and depression was rampant.
Out of despair, many 49ers turned to poker and other forms of gambling in hopes of snatching the quick fortunes that had eluded them in the rivers. When that didn't work, many turned to crime. Jails, unnecessary a few years earlier, were soon filled. Hangings became common--almost matter of fact.
Many gave up the dream and went home to the east. Others stayed on--just one more year they hoped. One more year and they'd strike it rich. And there were the occasional lucky strikes well into the 1850s--just enough good news to encourage the masses to continue digging. Most failed every day, but they kept on--year after year. Dejected, disappointed, many would never return home to loved ones back east--they would die in California, broken by a dream that never came true.
