GOLD FEVER Part Three. Ken Salter

these turbulent times.

      — Ken Salter Berkeley, California

      California Gold Rush Journal

      

PART 3

      CHAPTER ONE

       San Francisco — 1853

      Our first challenge of the new year was to buy property on which we could build our bilingual pre-school and eventual grammar school. While Attorney Hawthorne handled the negotiations, it was hard slogging. Real estate prices throughout the city kept rising constantly. We thought naively we could get hill lots at the top of California or Washington Streets on the cheap as they were still mostly sand hills with difficult access in the rainy season. They would require additional expense clearing sand to build foundations on bedrock. We’d have to hire San Francisco’s notorious “Paddies,” the huge steam shovels the city used to push sand and rubble into the bay so the city could auction off new waterfront lots at astronomical prices to speculators and the new class of gold barons who threw their new-found wealth around like kids skipping pebbles across a pond.

      Our efforts were complicated further in that these nouveau riche barons wouldn’t stoop to negotiate land prices in their hurry to build ostentatious brick mansions with commanding bay views. They thought by throwing their gold at land speculators and overpriced building contractors they’d achieve immediate social standing and respectability. In order to buy our three lots at prices we could afford, we had to sacrifice the stunning bay views and settle for viewless lots tucked behind the new mansions. If all went well, we’d have enough money to build our school as soon as the steep road up California Street was dry enough to allow carts laden with redwood timbers and other necessary building materials. Our new family residence would have to wait until the school was up and running. By building with redwood we ran the risk of complete loss in case of fire. Only newly built structures in brick & mortar with metal doors and windows were presently insurable against fire. We reasoned what we saved in insurance premiums could be spent digging a well and securing firefighting equipment. Our structures would not be near neighboring buildings and the only source of fire in the school would be wood stoves for heat. All food preparation would be in our restaurant. Our property would be fenced and gated and we’d have a permanent watchman on the premises. By using seasoned redwood, the construction would go quickly and be much cheaper than a masonry structure.

      Manon had the bright idea to promote our school even before the start of construction. Gino placed ads for an “open house” meeting at our restaurant where parents could meet the teachers, examine the architect-drawn blue prints, discuss the prospectus and make a deposit to ensure their child would have a place in the inaugural class in September. About 25 couples answered our invitation. A quick survey of the arrivals indicated most were English-speaking parents. Once everyone was comfortably seated with a copy of our prospectus and a glass of wine, I turned the meeting over to Nelly.

      Nelly was dressed very elegantly in a flowing wool skirt that just covered her boots, taffeta blouse, wool vest and jacket. Her hair was piled up in an fashionable chignon. Her metal-rimmed eyeglasses for reading rested on her bosom and were attached by velvet cords long enough for her to gesticulate using the glasses as props for emphasis as she addressed her audience.

      “Thank you so much for joining us this evening. We’re very excited about the new school and I want to share some of the excitement with you,” she said in her crisp, private, East Coast boarding school accent. “How many of you understand French better than English?” She asked in mildly accented French. A smattering of hands were raised. “Good. As soon as I cover some of the main points and attractions of our curriculum in English, my colleague, Professor Monique Boudin, will cover them in French,” she said sweetly in French and pointed to Monique, who was dressed similarly to Nelly in the attire of an English school mistress. Monique acknowledged with a nod and a smile.

      “So, let’s review the prospectus,” Nelly said holding a copy printed in both English and French in front of her and waiting for everyone to open the prospectus. “You will note that our curriculum is different from any other school’s offerings. We will teach literacy, fluency in English and French, and mathematics as core subjects, and as our students develop a facility in both languages, the curriculum will expand to include penmanship, music, drawing and sketching and critical thinking.” Nelly paused to survey the heads of her audience nodding affirmatively. She indicated to Monique to cover the points in French. Nelly opened the session up to questions after Monique finished while Georges topped up empty wine glasses.

      “How can children so young be expected to learn both languages at the same time? They won’t be completely fluent in their native language when they start school, will they?” asked one father skeptically.

      Nelly laughed good-naturedly. “No, you’re right they won’t be fully fluent in either tongue at four to five years old. And, that’s the beauty of our approach. The kids will learn to be fluent from each other in both languages. As instructors, we design lessons and activities that are stimulating yet fun and the kids share what they learn with each other.”

      “Can you really guarantee my child will learn to speak French fluently?” A mother asked.

      “Yes,” both Monique and Nelly replied at the same time, “Provided your child stays in our program for at least 3 years. Should it not be the case, which is highly unlikely since children learn language skills easily at such an early age, the school would refund the last year’s tuition in its entirety,” added Nelly.

      After a few more questions, Nelly turned the meeting back to me. My turn to pitch for money and commitments. After signaling Georges to top up glasses again and Manon and Monique to pass around plates of canapés, I addressed the audience anew.

      “Dear Guests. I’m sure you are aware of the city’s plans to remedy the shortage of public schools over the next 2 years. Currently, there are 485 pupils in the 5 public schools the city finances for the exorbitant sum of $75,000 each per year to pay for rents, salaries and furnishings. The School Superintendent himself predicts there will be nearly 3,000 children aged 4-17 years needing schooling this year and possibly double that amount the following year given the rate of new arrivals by ship and overland. Clearly, there won’t be enough seats in public schools to accommodate all children who need educating. In order to build city-owned schools, they must first buy or seize the land through eminent domain. That all takes time, money and successful lawsuits.”

      “Think about what it means for your children. How many students will be in a class if your child is fortunate enough to get a seat? Will that empty seat be in your neighborhood or will you have to traipse across town in the mud and muck to deliver your child in the morning and arrange for his or her safe return after school? How qualified will your child’s teachers be when the city pays only $150 a month to men and $100 a month to women teachers? What overburdened and underpaid teacher will have the time or incentive to work with your children individually as will be the case with our bilingual classes?” I paused to let my message sink in.

      “As you see, you really have only two choices: put your children in overcrowded public schools far from your homes and let them sink or swim with the tide; or, ensure a quality education with us. We own our land in a safe area of the city and have our own crew of builders to assure our school house will be ready for its first class in September. Our initial class will be limited to 30 students — 15 English-speaking children and 15 French-speaking. There will be 2 very qualified bilingual teachers and an assistant. A tasty, nourishing lunch and a 4 P.M. snack will be provided from the kitchen of our notable restaurant.” I paused again so our guests could salivate about the gourmet lunch their kids would get every day and the traditional afternoon snack of pain et chocolat French kids eat to tide them over until a typically late dinner by American