Historic Buildings
In California
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Historic Buildings
In California
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Nicknamed the "Golden State," California is the third largest state in area after Alaska and Texas. The discovery of gold and the immigration in 1849 of thousands of "forty-niners" in search of the precious metal helped California's admission into the Union in 1850. Today, California, land of the giant redwoods, has the highest population of any state in the nation and is America's principal agricultural state. It is also the home of Hollywood, the center of America's movie and television industry. Its capital is Sacramento and the state flower is the golden poppy.
Much has been written about California, and Southern California in particular, as the native or the average citizen sees it. To the tourist, spending the winter in this garden spot, many little occurrences happen daily, that pass unnoticed by those living here, and to this end, this small volume is offered in memory of the many joys and trials combined, experienced by one of the ever-present Tenderfeet. THE AUTHOR.
WHEN I came out to California, Bill, some blamed idiot who knew it all, advised me what to bring.He said--(and I'll bet my old pair of suspenders he never saw California) says he,
“Don't take any winter clothes out there with you, its such a hot country you wont need 'em.”
Wall, I didnt, and by gum, I like to froze to death.
All I had in that blamed trunk of mine was some peek-a-boo underwear and drop stitched stockings.
I wore a summer suit and a straw hat out on the train, to keep cool, and was snow bound on the way to Los Angeles, and frost bitten, by gum, after I got here. It sure was a cold night when we pulled in, and as the train was four or five hours late, I footed it up town, to a hotel.
I didnt put up at Mr. Alexandria's or the Van Noose, as I heard on the train they charged you extra to blow your nose, if you stopped there. So I found a room on Main Street (which is nothing to be proud of) and the landlady hollered after me, as I went up the stairs, not to blow out the gas.
I didnt.
By gum, I was so stiff with the cold, I kept it burning all night to melt the icicles I knew must be hanging to the end of my nose. There was only one measley pair of summer blankets on that bed, and the pillows were so small, I came blamed near losing 'em in my ear before morning.
I went to bed with all my clothes on, and the rest of the night I laid there and shook until I jarred the bed, and some fellar who had a room under mine, pounded on the ceiling, and told me to make less noise up there.
I couldnt help it--the slats in the old bed were loose and rattled, any way.
If ever I was lonesome, Bill, and wanted to go home, I did that night.
It wasnt because I was alone, either--no, not that, for I'll bet I held up over one hundred fleas in different sections of that bed and on me, before morning, and every one of 'em was as big as a rat.
Now of course I dont really mean to say that they were that big, but by gum, they looked so to me that night. You know I never saw a real, healthy, hustling California flea before. I could see their eyes shine as they looked at me, and I'll swear some of 'em had on glasses and carried lanterns so they could find me easier.
There were old gray beards among 'em that had voted for years, and I'll bet hadnt had a square meal since the last tenderfoot slept in that bed.
I found out afterwards, that they dont bite the natives--skins are too thick--but a real tender, juicy down easter, is a much of a treat to 'em, as a porterhouse steak is in a bum boarding house.
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