The Little Jail in Camptonville

Camptonville, California, just off Highway 49, is located in the northeastern part of Yuba County at an elevation of 2800 feet and about 50 miles from Marysville, the county seat.

One can still see the scars of early day hydraulic mining. It was a busy gold mining town, including a China Town that was also the location of the jail. The jail has since been painted red and moved to the front where the Pelton Wheel Monument is located. The jail is outdated and no longer used.

As I recall, the old jail was a wooden, unpainted structure, 10 by 12 feet, made of double-thickness, upright, one-and-one-half inch, heart cedar planks. A one-room affair with foot-square openings about shoulder high to let in the light and air, but guarded with strap iron. A partition extends part way from the left towards the wooden bunk nailed to the wall. Loose straw was used for a mattress. No doubt some receptacle was used in an emergency, but missing in later years. There was no heat, no plumbing, water, or wash stand. The double-thickness door swung on large iron hinges, blacksmith work, and the huge padlock, oval type, was something to see. The keys were kept by the judge and the constable.

In the case I recall, a young fellow was arrested by a U.S. Forest Service official at 8:30 AM in July of 1930 for letting a camp or warming fire escape. Sammy Oakes, walking on his way to Camptonville, saw a man asleep alongside a small fire, which had escaped and was working its way up country. (This is a tarweed undergrowth area.)

Sammy hurried to the Ranger Station and reported the forest fire. The fire crew was dispatched and quickly encircled the fire and brought it under control. The man was arrested and taken to Camptonville. With the judge's permission the prisoner was placed in the county jail for safekeeping until trial time, set at 2 PM. The young man was still under the influence of a wine jag. (It seems to take a long time to sober up on sweet wine.)

Judge Acton Cleveland was Justice of the Peace and had his office in the Meek Mercantile store. I remember the printed words out front: "We Sell Everything."

John Jaynes, a local man, was constable at the time and was officially placed in charge of the prisoner, whom he promptly cooped up in the little escape-proof jail. John had orders from the judge to feed his prisoner at noon time. Arrangements had been made with the Francis Hotel for one meal to go.

About 11:30 AM, the sun shining brightly on the little jail apparently was warming the interior when things came to life. A shouting for "Water, water!" was heard clear up to the Meek store. John got the message, and a gallon jug of water was provided to help quench the thirst.

At trial time, the arrested man admitted building the warming fire, but said, "I'm a cowboy, and I don't set fires. I work out of Livermore, and I'm sorry the fire got away."

The judge was understanding, the circumstances quite clear, so a small fine was levied with a stern warning, "Don't let it happen again."

The cowboy, now free, parted company thanking all concerned for the kind and considerate treatment he had received. Not even a complaint about his sleeping quarters.