History and Life of Dutch Jake

Jacob Dietrich joined the German Army May 1, 1868, not quite 18 years old. At age 21 he received the Iron Cross. Also the Black Eagle during the War of 70-71. Six years German Army rank "Top Sergeant". Left Germany to come to America March 12, 1874. His biggest complaint for leaving was too much "do-must". His only relative, Uncle Ott, was a butcher and ran a meat market in Jacksonville, Oregon. So Jake's first job, as he put it, was working behind the blocks in the butcher shop. He stayed there three or four years.

He told about having a ranch at Sam's Neck in Siskiyou County, CA. A huge barn, made lots of hay. Had some cattle and horses. Thru some working arrangement, he made many trips on horseback to Eastern Oregon and bought horses, called them "street car stock" destined for San Francisco's horse-drawn cars. Tells about being caught in a snow storm with a bunch of horses in the "Madeline" plains, how he was frozen in the saddle and lost, but was rescued by the Indians. Jake was proud to have a school on his ranch property, so little Indian Joe could go to school. Later, it seems he had the misfortune of losing the ranch.

Next he turned up at Marysville, CA, freighting to the mountains with an eight-mule team. How ,on a return trip, the rear freight wagon on a narrow turn in Grass Valley took out a fire plug. Water everywhere. He had to make good the damages because jail was staring him in the face. Thru freighting he became acquainted with a large area of the surrounding country.

Next found him farming and mining in Indian Valley, Sierra County, CA. Brandy City's mining activities were going strong. The hotel would buy any fresh vegetables. Jake raised onions, carrots, squash, potatoes, and cabbage. The demand was strong.

One story was told on Jake. He loved to gamble, especially play draw poker, so they played into the night. He forgot all about his pack animals tied up at the saloon in Brandy City. The ladies at the hotel felt sorry for the mules and turned them loose and they, the mules, knew the way home. All Jake's storming later didn't bring 'em back.

He told about making moonshine on the ranch in the winter time. Chinese New Year's comes in February. Jake would be prepared for about one week's siege. He had underestimated the celebration of this particular year, and before it was over, his liquor supplies ran low. He dispatched a friend and pack mule to Ramm's distillery for a couple of kegs of brandy, but before they returned, Jake was forced to water and red-pepper his concoction. He said the demand for Chinese whiskey never slackened. That, he said, was a real "Chinese New Year."

I'm not sure when Jake moved to the old Tannery Ranch and made his home there. The location about one mile up country from Camptonville, CA on the road to the Sleighville House.

He tells of mining with a partner, whom he called "Wasserjack," after the Snowden Mine had shut down. How they got trapped in a cave-in in one of the two connecting tunnels, which showed light in the distance. So they managed to pick, squirm, and crawl. It was slow going. After several hours they reached the end of the tunnel, and the ordeal was over. They washed the heavy gravel they had wheeled out over the weeks. It paid well enough ,but it wasn't worth the risk to continue. Tells about wearing rubber boots so much that he got gum-boot poisoning.

Next, he joined many of the prospectors and snipers panning and crevising for gold on the North Yuba River below Lager Beer Trail, which started at Indian Hill. This was many years before Highway 49 was put in, which was in 1918-1920.

These were the days when the dynamite cap box was used for carrying out the gold, usually a week's labor. The routine was go in Mondays with supplies and come out Saturday morning with the gold.

Later, when he was eighty years old, he had me drive him down Highway 49 and drop him off with a gold pan and crevising spoon, headed for the river where Lager Beer Trail used to cross. He just had to pan the river once more. The mining results were negative, but now he was satisfied. The good old days of free gold were no more.

The poker games in Camptonville were in full swing Saturday nights and Sundays too, or as long as the cap boxes of gold dust and small nuggets held out. Those that were prudent laid away some money for sinter supplies.

I recall him telling about when Pete Butz and he shovelled 105 sacks of cement in one day (a record, no doubt) on the Joubert debris retaining dam in Willow Creek. He was proud of that.

In 1884 anti-debris legislation ended hydraulic mining. In 1893 the Caminetti Act was passed allowing license to hydraulic mine again if the proper dams were put in. Most retaining dams were put in between 1894-1900.

How he worked with a group on widening the Foster Bar Road from the North Yuba or Foster Bar Bridge to Garden Valley. Mostly decomposed granite and wheelbarrow work. Tom Byrd was the toll collector on the bridge.

He mined in later years on his "Neversweat #1 and #2" mining claims on Sleighville Creek. Not far by trail from his cabin on Campbell Gulch, known as the Tannery Ranch. These claims he later sold to his partner Andy Massa. Andy thought there should be more gold. Jake's answer was "No man can see underground."

His last job besides mining was working for the W.P.A. around 1940s near Camptonville during the Depression. He might have lied 10 years about his age to get on the payroll, but he still could keep up with some of the younger workers, especially where shovelling was concerned.

In his later years, he managed to live frugally. He cut and split his own wood, which was neatly piled in his hillsiie basement for winter use. He had a rule to never go home empty-handed, even if it was only a tree limb that could be sawed up later.

Jake enjoyed reading. He had subscribed to the Collier's Magazine. It had some Indian stories by Steward Edward White that he considered the real article. Later, when in some roundabout way he learned (whether true or not) that Collier's was owned by Morgan, he dropped it like a hot potato. I never found out what he had against Morgan.

This cabin he lived in really was a home, but he never used the front room except for storage. His kitchen, the other half of the house toward the creek, was L-shaped, divided by a partition for a cot or two just in case of company. Jake's bed was in the far corner away from the four-hole cook stove, which had a small oven. The table was nailed to the partition and covered with oil cloth. Benches were used for seats. A coal-oil lamp was used for light.

Jake was a good cook. His two loaves of round-shaped bread per week always had that look of perfection. When praised, a twinkle would come in his eyes, and he liked to express something like this, "I'd been dead 10 years ago if I hadn't baked my own bread. Too many impurities. They even put putty in, when the weight warrants it."

His bayo beans were superb. His pancakes large and filling - with syrup or apple sauce.

The winter supplies consisted of two sacks of flour, one 50-pound sack of "bayo beans", the miner's favorite, 25 pounds of yellow onions, all stored in late fall before the heavy snows came. The lighter articles like bacon, canned corned beef, he would carry home in his knapsack, while the going was still good in his weekly trips to town.

Almost forgot his flour sack, half-filled with dried apples and pears hanging on the wall back of the stove. The fruit was gathered from his own orchard. To avoid weevils, he had layers of bay leaves (mountain laurel) in the flour sack of dried fruit.

The wood floor got a sweeping whenever necessary - or certainly when company was coming. Things were quite orderly. Everything had its place.

His money crop in the fall was horseradish, prepared and sold in one-quart and two-quart jars to special customers. Cabbage and rutabagas grew well. These were gathered and stored.

Come spring, with a full head of hair and beard, he looked like a woodchuck. It was time for his semi-annual shave, both head and face. Until the hair grew back, he just didn't look natural.

Since Jake came thru the winter in good shape, and many more to follow, I'll conclude this story and hope to write two more, like say, "Social Life at Dutch Jake's". The other story ("Company")about two yahoos who took advantage of Jake's hospitality and ten vamoosed with Jake's .38 Smith and Wesson. You'll get action.