More from the Alta article: San Francisco Alta California, May 13,1867
The Twainian Vol 42, No 5 (1983)
CALIFORNIANS
I find S. R. Weed, an ancient California newspaper man, of the days when Kendall and Frank Soule, and some of the rest of you were in your frolicsome youth. He is in the insurance business now, but still corresponds with the ALTA and the New York Tribune, and sends telegrams to the Chicago Tribune, Cincinnati Commercial and New Orleans Times. He was on the Democrat here for a long time, and they say that he was war correspondent of the Herald and Tribune both for four years, and worked up his battles so differently for each, by making them rebel victories for one and Union victories for the other, that he was not suspected by his employers. He is doing quite a lively insurance trade now, and is gradually cutting loose from newspaperdom.
Mose Flannigan, formerly of San Francisco, owns considerably in the Olympic Theatre here, and built it.
This reminds me that Felix McClusky, another San Franciscan, and an innocent, matter-of-fact man, is in Washington, and holds, or did hold, an office there which did not require that its occupant should know more than thirty-five or forty men ought to know-he had charge of the heating apparatus of the Capitol. They say that he had a steam engine in his department which he was very proud of, and was always showing it and expatiating upon it to visitors. One day one of these asked him what its capacity was - how many horse-power? "Horse-power, h--l!" he says, "it goes by steam!"
And that reminds me about an anecdote concerning Gen. Sherman, who is now a resident of St. Louis. On his march down toward Atlanta, he constantly astonished the rebels with the facility with which he restored the railroad bridges they destroyed at his approach. They would annihilate a bridge just before he arrived, and the next morning there it was again, just as it had been before they touched it. At last a light dawned upon them. The original plans for the bridges had all been furnished from Cleveland, Ohio, and before Sherman started he took those plans, had each bridge duplicated in all its timbers and iron work, took the pieces in a "shook" state on his trains, and so, when he found a bridge gone, he had nothing to do but get its mate out of the freight cars, bolt it together, and put it up. This thing worried the rebels a good deal when they found it out. One day they proposed to destroy the Dalton tunnel, to hinder Sherman's march, but an exasperated Confederate said: "What in the nation's the use? That d----d old Sherman's prob'ly fetched another one along with him from Cleveland!"
SOCIABLES
Sociables appear to be the rage here. They are pretty well named. From fifty to a hundred lady members of a church meet at a private house, or in the lecture-room of a church, and all day long they sew - all day long they make pink cravats and ruffled shirts for the poor heathen in distant lands, and discuss their neighbors' characters, likely, and at night they serve up an elegant ungodly supper of cold turkey and salads and hot coffee and pies, and about that time a crowd of gentlemen arrive and each lady is privileged to choose any gentleman she pleases and escort him down to the table and wait on him. And after that they talk and get more and more sociable until an hour of unchristian lateness, and then they go home satisfied that they have been helping the poor heathen along powerfully. They go home feeling as the girl felt when the Minister asked her how she felt when he was wading out with her after baptizing her and washing her pure of the sins that had so long stained her girlish innocence. She said she felt bully. The sociables are usually held on Thursday evenings, and each congregation gives one every week or two. They are considered to be altogether the pleasantest things yet invented for the comfort of people who are debarred from the charms of the dance and the intoxicating bottle.
CHARACTERISTIC
In San Francisco, as soon as you arrive, some friend hails: "How d'y - do? - When'd-you get down? - How's things in the mountains? - When you going back? - Howd-you like Sanfcisco? - Take a drink? - So-long; see you again."
In New York they say: "Ah, when'd you arrive?- How long you going to stay? - How do you like New York? - Good morning."
Here they say: "Hello! glad to see you, by George! - When'd you get here? - Why, you look as natural as a cow! - How do you like St. Louis since you got back? - Come, go to my room; want to have a smoke with you."
But, don't you observe, they all ask that same old question: "How do you like San Francisco? - How do you like New York? - How do you like St. Louis?" It is almighty aggravating. Cannot people think of something else besides that? It wouldn't make any difference if only one or two people asked the question; but to be bored with it twenty times a day is insufferable. It has set me to speculating about the other world. A man who has lived a long life, and been around a good deal, will probably meet as many as twenty or thirty thousand people there he was acquainted with on earth; they say we shall preserve our natural instincts - now, think of being bored all through Paradise or perdition with that same wretched old question of "how you like it." Why, it wouldn't make any difference which locality you landed in - you would get so harried and badgered that you would wish you had gone to the other place. And yet, that would not mend the matter, because communication is open between the two. You remember that Dives easily recognized Lazarus, and hailed him. I wish I knew if Lazarus asked - however, it is no matter. The subject distresses me beyond measure. I do wish they would invent a new formula to inflict on strangers, because even if it were no more interesting than the old one, it would at least bear the evanescent charm of novelty. I hate that question as I do the hackneyed topic of the weather. However, when one is tired hating anything he can always go to bed. I will.
THE "EUCHRE HORNS"
P.S. - But I must not go to bed till I have spoken of the "Euchre Horns." This is what they would call a "stag" sociable in the mountains. Twelve to sixteen or twenty gentlemen, composing the Euchre Horns' Club, meet once a week at each other's residences and play euchre for a little of gilded and ribboned deer horns. The partners first scoring seventeen games are declared champions. Two gentlemen may then challenge them for the next meeting. Of course, all the other parties are playing in the meantime, but only for amusement. A party challenging for the horns and failing to win them, cannot challenge again for several meetings. This gives all a chance in turn. This Club has existed over two years, and its records have been strictly kept in a small minute book. One brace of gentlemen held the horns for six successive meetings.
These are the very pleasantest entertainments I have at tended in a long time. There are no ladies present, and so you haven't got to be kept under the tiresome restraints of proper conduct all the time. The ladies of the house stay in the dining room, where wines and a cold collation are set out, and wait on the gentlemen, who drop in in small squads every now and then to refresh between games. You are not obliged to go in every time you finish a game, but then it is just as convenient to do it, and it makes things more uniform, you know. I never have won the horns yet, but I always beat the free lunch.
The items of each contest are published in the morning papers next day.
Suppose you try the Euchre Horns in San Francisco? You might make it the Poker Horns if Euchre is too mild.