University of California • Berkeley
Regional Oral History Office
The Bancroft Library
University of California
Berkeley, California
Jessie Harris Stevart
MEMORIES OF GIRLHOOD AND THE UNIVERSITY
An Interview Conducted by
Suzanne Riess
Copy No.
IT) 1978 by The Regents of the University of California
Jessie Harris Stewart
Photographed at home in The Sequoias ,
For tola Valley. The painting behind
Mrs. Stewart is of "Sunshine Hill,"
the Stewart home in Saratoga, Calif.
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This manuscript is made available for research
purposes. No part of the manuscript may "be quoted for
publication without the written permission of the
Director of The Bancroft Library of the University of
California at Berkeley.
Requests for permission to quote for publication
should be addressed to the Regional Oral History
Office, U86 Library, and should include identification
of the specific passages to be quoted, anticipated use
of the passages, and identification of the user.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Jessie H. Stewart
INTRODUCTION i
I CABLE CARS AND CHILDHOOD [interview 1: Jan. 10, 1978] 1
James T. Harris in California 1
The Harris Girls, High School Days U
Jessie Growing Up in San Francisco 6
Superintendent Harris and the Earthquake 9
The Oddfellows 10
The Days After the Fire 11
Cars and Cable Cars
Strikes and Other Stoppage
The Chinese and Japanese in San Francisco 18
Jewish Friends 19
More Growing Up Memories
Cable Car Etiquette 23
The Panama Pacific International Exposition, YWCA Building 2U
Summer Vacations 26
Transplanted Calif ornians 27
II THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA [interview 2: Jan. 2U, 1978] 30
The Gymnasium Course 30
Phoebe Apperson Hearst 32
Pledging Delta Delta Delta 33
Moving Over to Berkeley 36
Bacteriology Studies 37
A Friendship with President Wheeler 38
Presidents Wheeler and Barrows UO
University YWCA Ul
Campus Offices, and Torch and Shield ^3
The Campanile Cornerstone Ceremony U5
Women Leaders and Classmates U6
Life in The Sequoias: Retirement U8
THE FAMILY OF JESSIE W. HARRIS AND CHARLES W. STEWART 52
APPENDICES
A. James W. Harris, The Cable Car Reaches Maturity, from
Edgar M. Kahn, Cable Car Days in San Francisco 53
B. Jessie Harris Stewart Interview, from The Prytaneans,
an Oral History of The Prytanean Society* Its Members
and Their University 1901-1920 6U
INDEX
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INTRODUCTION
These oral history conversations with Jessie Harris Stewart,
conducted for the Regional Oral History Office of The Bancroft
Library in January 1978, are a dip deep into a well of memories
of growing-up years in California.
Jessie Stewart's father, James T. Harris, coming to San
Francisco via New England from pioneer Canadian stock, found work
in the carpentry shop of the California Street Cable Car Company
in the l880s and was soon elevated to supervisory and then mana
gerial positions in the company. His own story, reprinted herein,
is a look back at a fulfilling career. The first half of his
daughter's interview enriches the chronicle of her father's life
and times with her memories of childhood along the California
Street line, her schools, her friends, vacations, mother and
sister, and the exhilarating and tragic days of the earthquake
and fire of 1906.
The second half of the interviews is concerned with the spring
time of the University of California at Berkeley under President
Benjamin Ide Wheeler, champion of the students. In the years from
1910 to 19ll* the University was at a high point of campus development:
as the Hearst-Benard building plan was carried out, new faculty and
a remarkable generation of students of the second decade of the
1900s came together to build the fine reputation of the institution.
In the interview Jessie Stewart recalls Wheeler and her associations
with him, as well as the warm feelings of the women students toward
Phoebe Apperson Hearst.
Jessie Harris Stewart's faithfulness to campus ideals and to
the responsibilities that became hers as an officer of the students
are in the best tradition of committment and involvement of women
students, articulated further in the Prytanean Oral History Project
interview with Mrs. Stewart, also appended herein.
To have been asked to enrich the store of University of Cali
fornia oral history by dipping into Mrs. Stewart's memories as we
have here is to make the interviewer and the reader wish to have
had an entire life's history. Those who know Jessie Harris Stewart
ii
know that while she lived years away in other communities with her
husband and her children she maintained the dedication to YWCA
work that is mentioned in these interviews and that her sunny Cali
fornia upbringing and able and generous nature remained undimmed.
She returned to the West with her husband Charles in the late 19^0s
to build "Sunshine Hill" in Saratoga, and her present home in The
Sequoias, Portola Valley, is, by her presence there, another sunshine
hill
Suzanne B. Riess
Interviewer /Editor
July 1978
Regional Oral History Office
486, The Bancroft Library
University of California
Berkeley, California
1 CABLE CARS AND CHILDHOOD
[Interview 1: January 10, 1978]
James T. Harris in California
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Your father's entire family came out to California following
him?
Not all; one sister of his remained in Nova Scotia, but the
rest of them, his father and mother and five children, I think
it was , followed him out .
They settled in San Francisco?
All of them settled in San Francisco around my father.
What did his father's father do?
His father was a ship builder in Nova Scotia and was read out
of the church one time for having launched a ship on Sunday.
[Laughter] The tide was right and Grandfather just launched
the ship!
This was the Presbyterian?
The Nova Scotia Presbyterian. He was born in Pictou, Nova
Scotia. But he came to this country when he was sixteen and
moved to Fall River.
Now you're talking about your father?
Yes, my father. My grandfather and grandmother settled in San
Francisco near my father.
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Your grandfather worked here as a ship builder?
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No, no. He was retired, he was an older man by the time he came
here. He wasn't a young man. I don't remember him much because
he was gone before I was born.
When were you born?
In 1892.
Any brothers and sisters?
I had a sister, Martha, who was nine years older than I was.
She's gone now. She and I married brothers. She married my
husband's brother John. Charlie and I were in college together
and then we married oh, quite a number of years later. It was
[August 17] 1916 when we were married.
When your father first came out here, did he start working for
the cable cars?
He was a carpenter when he went to Fall River, and when he came
out here to San Francisco he went to work for the California
Cable Car Company as a carpenter in the carpentry shop, and he
was working there quite a number of years, I don't know how many
years , when the superintendent of the company was fired — he was
an irascible old gentleman [chuckles] — and he said to the board
of directors, "I'll give you one piece of advice, I'll tell you
who to put in my place, and that's Jim Harris down in the
carpentry shop," and Dad was elevated from carpenter to super
intendent of the company.
That's good! They took his advice.
They did and they never regretted it.
Who was the man who was fired?
His name was Seal. He came down here and settled in Palo Alto
and there's a Seal Avenue named after him. We used to visit him.
They had a place in Mayfield and he was quite a wealthy old
gentleman. But he was very crotchety and the board of directors
got a little tired of it. The board of directors was composed
of people like the Colemans and a lot of those old family
people in San Francisco.
Did your father talk about California as "the land of
opportunity"?
Stewart;
Oh, yes, and he was the worst "Californiac" I've ever known.
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He was so crazy about California, and especially the San
Francisco area. He used to not like Los Angeles very much.
I remember one time he came down on the train to come to our
house [In Glendale] for Christmas and somebody was talking about
how wonderful Los Angeles was and he said, "You don't know what
you've been through until you've been living in San Francisco."
He spoke up when somebody was talking, and not to him at all,
but he interrupted the conversation to put in a word for San
Francisco. [Laughter] Yes, he was a loyal man.
What part of the city did you start out in?
I don' t remember where they first lived because it was before
I was born. But when I came into the picture we were living
in a flat on California Street, down near Fillmore, down the
hill from the place where we moved. Eventually we moved up
toward Webster Street on the same block and they bought a house
there. I remember hearing about the time when he was appointed
to be the superintendent. Mother and Martha, my sister, were
at dinner and he came into dinner late. It was the first of
April and he said, "Well, I'm late but I just got to be
appointed superintendent of the railroad," and they all yelled,
"April fool!" He had a terrible time convincing them that he
was telling the truth.
What kind of education did he have?
He had very little. Just up until he left, oh, I think about
the seventh or eighth grade or something in school. He never
had any more education at all.
Was he a reading man?
Oh, a very great reader. One of his favorite magazines was
National Geographic. He used to read an awful lot of good
books and magazines. I know one time we started to give him
Life magazine and he said, "I don't want any picture thing. I
want something to read."
What was your mother's background?
Mother was born in San Francisco. Mother and Father were distant
cousins. They were quite a long distance apart. But when father
came to California he hunted up the Murdock family, which is
Mother's family, and he met Mother then. Her father and mother
had come around the Horn in a sailing vessel in '49. They
settled in San Francisco.
First of all, Grandfather Murdock had something to do with
Stewart:
the sulphur mines up around Virginia City and up around there.
But then he came back and they settled in San Francisco, back
of the Emporium. Mother had us know that that was Rincon Hill
and that was a very exclusive neighborhood. But Father always
says Mother was born "south of the slot." [Chuckles] Market
Street was a slotted cable too at that time and he always tells
about how she was born "south of the slot."
The Harris Girls. High School Days
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You were brought up in a house where a college education was
expected?
Oh, expected for me, for us. My sister had a spinal curvature
when she was younger and they took her out of public school for
a year to have her lay in bed and take care of that spine, and
then she went to private school. She didn't go to college at
all, but she graduated from Irving Institute, which was a private
school in San Francisco.
Did that later become some other school?
No, I think it went out. There were people named Church who
owned it but I think it went out of existence later on.
Did she take care of that spinal curvature?
Yes, she was all right. Oh, there were some treatments along
with it I'm sure, but anyway it kept her out of school for a
year and her class had gotten ahead of her. We had both gone
to Pacific Heights School in San Francisco and so when she was
ready for high school, they put her in the Institute.
Where did you go?
I went to Lowell.
The famous Lowell. Your classmates at Lowell are probably as
familiar to you as your classmates from Cal.
Oh, many of them, we still keep in touch with each other.
I remember later walking across the Berkeley campus with
President Wheeler and he said to me, "Jessie, where did you
graduate from high school?" and I said, "Lowell." He said,
Jessie Harris
Stewart:
"Oh, those Lowell kids,
no doubt about it."
They make their name in college,
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Well, it was a school that was preparing you for college.
There was no sloid or extracurricular things. It was just
plain Latin and French and German and mathematics and things
that were really imperative for your recommendation in
college.
That means that children in the city who were not intending
to go to college —
— wouldn't go there because they wouldn't get the shop things
and all that sort of stuff that they would need, because it
was nothing but really straight curriculum for people going
to college.
What languages did you take?
I took German.
Did you have to have Latin and Greek?
I had two years of Latin before you could start a language.
That was their prerequisite.
It's interesting. I noticed in the Prytanean histories that
many people took or knew German.* It seemed like German was
a more popular language, as French later became.
I had another reason for doing it, but that was neither here
nor there.
But when I was a senior in high school — at the end of our
junior year we had elections for officers for the senior year
and I was voted the vice-president of the student body, and
Sherman Burns, who is Detective Burns' son, was elected
president, and he never camp back. Here I was.
I went to Mr. Morton, our principal, and I said, "Well,
I just can't go on."
*The Prytaneans. An Oral History of the Prytanean Society,
Its Members and their University. 1901-1920, Berkeley, 1970.
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He said, "You're going on. You were elected to take the place
of the president when the president is not there." For a year
I was president of the student body, which meant giving out
block letters and all that sort of stuff. [Chuckles] So I
really had kind of a weird time of it.
That certainly stood you in good stead when you got to
Berkeley.
You used a word back there that I don't know. You said
"sloid." What does that mean?
That means working with tools.
How is it spelled?
S-1-o-i-d, I think it is. I don't know if it's a very common
word but it was common among us who knew kids who were going to
school where they were learning to be carpenters and plumbers
and all those things. Other high schools in San Francisco
were giving training courses for people who wanted to get into
business from high school.
So what did your parents expect from you?
or academic career?
A teaching career
No. I took only a two-year course at first and took physical
ed. Then the family decided that 1 should go on for more.
They were interested in what 1 was doing so 1 majored as a
bacteriologist. After I got out of college I worked at the
YWCA for six months before I was married but I didn't do very
much work.
Do you mean you just told me your entire working career?
That's about it. 1 never did work anymore but around the
house. [Chuckles]
Jessie Growing Up in San Francisco
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Let's back up a bit before we get to the college days. I'd
like you to describe the look of the city in pre-earthquake
times. Do you recall Nob Hill with the great mansions?
Stewart:
Well, I can remember those but I don't know if I can describe
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them because I was only twelve or eleven I guess when the
earthquake came along, 1892 to 1906, whatever that Is.
That was always known as Nob Hill?
Oh yes, It was always known as Nob Hill and had these beautiful
great big houses on it where the Pacific Union Club Is and
things like that. They were beautiful houses and there weren't
so many. The Fairmont was not there. The big hotels came
along later. They came along when I was in high school because
1 remember going to dances at the Fairmont Hotel.
The cable car line ran right out past the Nob Hill houses, I
gather.
Sure. It ran right from Market Street, straight up the hill,
past the mansions, and up to Presidio Avenue.
Edgar Kahn's description of Sunday outings on the cable cars
really interested me.* Did you do this?
No, we didn't do much joy riding because — we rode on a pass.
We always had passes for the family but we didn't do much more
than just go where we had to go. We didn't take joy rides on
the cable because — well, what I did do was to oftentimes go
out with my Dad to Presidio Avenue to the end of the line and
thentake a steam train that ran out to the Cliff House and that
was more fun! 1 used to love doing that. Dad and I would do
that often on Sunday afternoon or something. We'd watch the
seals on the cliff there, you know.
And then have something to eat?
Oh, have a waffle!
stuff.
We used to do a lot of that Sunday afternoon
You were his travelling companion?
We were very, very close. Through the years we were very
close. My sister was closer to my mother than 1 was. Mother
wasn't awfully well and she died when I was in the East.
*Edgar M. Kahn, Cable Car Days in San Francisco, Stanford
University Press, 1944.
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Did she have your sister when she was quite young?
Yes, she was quite young and then nine years later I came
along as an afterthought. [Chuckles]
I am seven years older than my sister, and I think It's a
very big span of time.
It's a big span and for awhile It doesn't make for very
pleasant surroundings. Martha and I fought terribly when we
were younger because Mother would say, "Take Jessie with you
when you go out to play" and she hated that! I was a messy
little brat! But as we grew older we grew very close together.
I remember an old Irishman named Gulliver. When we were
going somewhere on the streetcar he leaned over and he said
to my mother, "This child has eyes like the statues In the
Roman Catholic Church," and that was his Idea of a real
compliment. Mother happened to be taking me to the doctor
at the time, to Dr. A. P. O'Brien, and Mother told him that
and he said, "That's a darned unlikely compliment!" [Laughs]
He was a Catholic too and he said, "I don't think that's
much."
And Grandpa Murdock always used to say, "Jessie has
eyes like two holes burnt In a blanket."
Were you a tomboy?
Yes, and my sister wasn't. She was a fussy lady. People
would say in grammar school, "You can't be Martha Harris's
sister!" because she was such a lady and such a good student
and I was awful. I used to get "very poor" in deportment.
[Laughter] Father used to get kind of a kick out of it, but
Mother didn't like it very much.
Did you participate in sports?
Oh yes, yes, and I rode my bicycle an awful lot in those days
and skated a lot. I always had to stay off the line of the
road when I did that though because the men would go in and
report to Dad that somebody had seen me come down the hill
with my hands off the handlebars on the bicycle. They would
come in and so I always stayed away from the road as much
as possible.
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The "road" is the streetcar bed?
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Yes. All those California Street streetcar men knew us and
knew us well.
My, they were so wonderful to us. When ay sister was
married they put together and got her a wonderful wedding
present, and when Charlie and I were married, they gave us
a dining room set.
That is very generous.
Superintendent Harris and the Earthquake
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Oh, they were just like a family in those days. Those men
would keep their bankbooks in Dad's desk and they would go
in and give him a certain amount and he would go down and
deposit it to their account in different places, and when
anybody died in the family, Dad would always go with them
and pick out the coffin and all those things, and they were
just like a part of the family.
They trusted him utterly?
Oh, utterly. He was just, to them, their grandfather. I
always remember him telling one time that he knew Halstead's
very well, which was the undertaker in San Francisco, and
he went with one man down there to pick out a coffin when
his wife died, and Halstead said, "Name the price," and Dad
said, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself to ask that man
this much money."
He looked at him and he took a chisel that he had in
his hand and he scratched it and he said, "Okay, this is
damaged." And he gave it to him for less money, of course.
Dad was always out to get what he could for the men.
1 guess that's what happens when you kind of work up from the
bottom.
Oh yes, and nobody objected to his having stepped up, which
I thought was very good. 1 used to hear Dad say, "Well, he
really deserved it more than I did," or something like that,
but nobody minded. They all rallied around and were so good
with him.
He was very much involved in the crisis after the earthquake
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and fire when they had to rebuild the line,
that?
Do you remember
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Oh, I remember the whole thing because they pulled the cars
out onto the tracks and ran them as far as they could that
morning when the earthquake came along to get them as far
away from the fire. They couldn't climb the hills to go up
so they went as far as Van Ness Avenue and the fire came to
Van Ness Avenue and they were burned on the tracks. But
they felt that ±f_ the fire didn't come far, and it didn't
look as if it would at first, why then those cars would be
saved. Well, they didn't even think the fire was coining as
far as Hyde Street when it first started.
When you think of 1906 do you recall the smell of fire and
so on?
Oh surely. 1 can even see the pieces of the paper [burning
shreds of ash] when they would bomb a place. They bombed a
lot of places, dynamited them to try and start backfires, and
we would get big cinders out our way.
We were not burned. We were about four blocks from the
fire when the fire came. Father took Mother in and had her
pick out what she wanted to save and we were out with some
friends on Spruce Street out around the Lake Street area and
we stayed there.
I remember one day Dad came out with a horse and buggy
that they had and somebody drove him out and I ran out to the
car to meet him out there on Spruce Street and he handed me
this satchel and I dropped it to the ground. It was full of
money. He had gone into the office when the fire was imminent
there and opened all the safes and scooped all the money into
this satchel and it was twenty-dollar bills. The fire was
on Monday and they'd had Saturday and Sunday with no banking
and so they had all this cash. When we came back to our house,
Father got Mother to get a lot of fruit jars and they put the
money in fruit jars up among the jams and jellies. [Laughter]
Then the men would come to the house to get their pay.
The Oddfellows
Of course, then Dad had all this money that was sent from the
Oddfellows all over the United States for Oddfellows in San
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Francisco and he would have these checks that would come In.
1 know once or twice Dad signed them the night before and put
then under their mattress until the next day when they could
go down and put It In the bank because the banks had moved out
to Flllmore Street and places like that.
This was a generous gesture from the Oddfellows during the
fire?
Oh, all over the country.
Before we began, you started to tell me about your father's
connection with the Oddfellows.
He was grand treasurer of the Grand Lodge of Oddfellows of
the whole United States.
That was an affiliation he had started back in Massachusetts?
No, I don't think so. He wasn't even twenty-one when he cane
to California, and I think he joined the Oddfellows when he
came out here.
What was their function? What purpose did they have?
I don't know terribly much about it, but it's a beneficial;
they get benefits if they're sick or anything; they pay them
money and then they get benefits out. It's a fraternal order
like the Elks or the Masons only it's a lower grade because
it's more working men that belong to it.
1 wondered if they had their own charities that they
supported?
Oh sure, I think they do. I don't know much about It but I
know that Dad was always interested in it and became on the
board of directors of the Oddfellow Home down in Saratoga.
There was a place down there where they had their old peoples'
homeand he used to go down there for the board of directors
meetings.
The Days After the Fire
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Yours was one of the families that didn't try to escape the
fire. You went a few blocks —
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We didn't leave the city at all. Most everybody that could
got out of the city and I know we had cousins who had a launch
and they packed all of the family in the launch and took then
to Benicia, to my aunt out there in Benicia. I had an aunt and
uncle that lived up there and they went up there and stayed.
She had a great big house and they took care of them all.
But Mother wouldn't go because she felt Dad needed the
care at that time because he was working awfully hard. He
went back to work then right away to rebuild the carbarn and
to do all the rest of it. So we stayed right there and 1 was
always glad 1 did. 1 had so many friends who went away and
missed it all.
We cooked on the streets, you know. The chimneys were
all down and we had to cook out. Dad made kind of a wooden
frame and we had a little stove out there burning coal and
cooked on the street and everything.
You could do your marketing out in the other districts?
Well, we had to go stand in the bread line for quite a long
while. Martha and I used to go up and get bread because there
were no bakeries, only just theones that could supply the
bread lines. We went and stood in the bread lines along with
other people and got them.
Everyone was there.
Oh, everybody was in the bread lines, and I remember the bread
line at one time was in Lafayette Square — which was a square
in San Francisco, it still is there — we went up there and
people were camping up there.
I guess that experience was a chance for a lot of social work.
Oh, yes. Martha did a lot of things,
to do a lot of things.
Martha was old enough
I was just a kid. We had a neighbor, a man named
Richmond who had a candy store down on Fillmore Street, and
you know that when people can't get liquor they go for candy.
He came to Mother one day and he said, "Can I have Jessie?
Can 1 take her down there and let her wait on customers?"
Mother said, "Why, she isn't worth that."
He said, "Yes, she is, and I'd like to pay her."
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Mother said, "No, you won't pay her, but she can go and help
you if there's any way she can help," and I went down there
and worked and had the best time. I learned to fix chocolates,
dip chocolates.
Oh, you were doing that part of it?
When there wasn't anybody on the floor I would help out there
and I had the best time. Oh, he used to make me take home
boxes of chocolates, because I couldn't take any pay, and I
had a fine time. All my friends were gone, you see, so I was
alone and I had a good time down there in the candy store.
Where was this store?
Down on Fillmore between Pine and California.
Sounds like a fine place,
chocolates .
Not everybody knows how to dip
Well, I didn't know at first but I had a good time. [Laughter]
That's a marvelous story. I'm glad you triumphed over your
mother in some of these things.
Well, Mother wanted me to be a lady. She thought there was
reason why a lady should go out with hat and gloves on [laughter]
and I was off sailing around on a bicycle.
When you were talking about "the road" I was interested that
you always would refer to it as the road rather than the
street. But anything that didn't have cable car tracks would
be a street for you?
No, the one that I would call the road was the one that had
the California Street cable, but there were other cable lines
too. There was a Jackson and Washington line that was a
cable car, and other ones, but to my way of expressing it the
road meant California Street.
Cars and Cable Cars
Riess :
And there were no automobiles on it. When you talked about
being out on the road with your bike or your skates, I first
thought, "how hazardous" but it probably wasn't because —
14
Stewart:
Riess:
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Riess:
No, it wasn't bad. There were some horses and rigs, horses
and buggies. My father had a horse and buggy at his disposal
and he went around all the time getting things ready, buying
cable and all that stuff, had to go to Union Iron Works to
get the cable for the cable car.
Do you mean on a normal day or do you mean at the time — ?
\
Oh, at the time of the earthquake.
Later on they got automobiles, but not right away. I
remember the first automobile. We lived next door in San
Francisco to the mayor of San Francisco whose name was Edward
Robeson Taylor. That was a long time ago. They were one of
the first to get an automobile and it was a Stanley Steamer
and it was red. You got in the front seat and then you got
in the back seat; the middle of the back seat opened and you
got in and then you shut the door and sat on that!
Trapped!
[Laughs] Oh dear! Mrs. Taylor was a niece of Leland Stanford,
Jr. She was quite active and Martha knew the daughter very
well. Ellen Taylor was a friend of my sister's and she used
to go to all of the Big Games with her and all that sort of
stuff.
Did they drive their own car?
Harry learned, and drove his own car, and the women all wore
veils on their hats to keep them on and all that sort of
stuff. I did go several times but I was pretty little and
I was pretty much of a nuisance around so I didn't go with
them very much.
Did women ever drive their own cars back in those days?
No, I don't think so.
There was always that combination of somebody having to turn
the crank in front and somebody had
Sure, and all that stuff. That's pretty hard for a woman to
do.
In Kahn's book he talks about the gentility and the courteous-
ness of the cable car operators.
15
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Oh, they were wonderful. They were really wonderful. I
can remember Dad telling, about Old Man Coleman who said to
the operator, "Stop at Van Ness Avenue" and he stopped at the
side of Van Ness near Larkin. Coleman said, "I want to go to
the other side," and they started the car and took him over
to the other side! Of course, Van Ness was pretty broad.
But they stopped and let him out. [Laughter]
How about the tradition of bell ringing and all of the gaiety
that persists now in cable car riding? Did that start then?
They didn't do very much of that. They rang it when they
needed to get somebody off the track or something of that
sort, but they didn't go in for that stuff that they do
down on the Powell Street line now.
Kahn also refers to "cable car Adonises," like it was a
profession that a handsome young man —
Oh, they were handsome and they dressed beautifully. You
see them nowadays with jeans on; but that group of men had
an inspection before they went on duty in the morning to see
that their suits were clean and pressed and everything was
right on them before they went to work.
That was part of your father's job?
Well, yes. He used to have somebody that did that for him,
because it was five o'clock in the morning!
Strikes and Other Stoppages
Riess:
I remember one time there was a strike on the road.
The men struck for pay or something. They had joined the
union and the union operated it. There was a certain thing
in the franchise that said that a car had to run over the
road every day or the franchise would be broken, and so my
father took the car out and ran it and the men stood by
the side of the road looking daggers at him, but they didn't
do anything. They let him go by. He ran it over the whole
line of the road. He went from Van Ness to Market, from
Presidio to Market, and then from Hyde over to the Bay.
So there was always the threat of the franchise being
broken?
16
Stewart:
Riess:
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Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess :
Stewart:
Riess :
Stewart:
Well, it was a franchise given by the city, and if a car did
not run over that road once a day they could break it.
In other words, the city would like to get the railroads back
themselves?
Sure.
Your father through his strategies in dealing with the city
averted their taking over the cable cars, according to Kahn.
Sure, although later on it became one company. But at the
time Dad was there until a long while afterwards, it still
remained a separate company. It was not a member of the
Municipal Railroad.
What was the reason for keeping it out?
It was a very well-paying thing and the board of directors
didn't want to give it up. (They didn't come to the meetings
any more. Dad would vote five or six proxies from those men
who wouldn't even go to the meetings.) They wanted to keep
that money that they had in it; they invested quite a little
bit and they were getting a lot out of it. I think that was
the reason. I don't know but I'm pretty sure.
It sounds like they were offered a hefty sum to sell the
railroad .
I know when Dad died he still had stock in the railroad, of
course. Our broker said, "Sell that stock. It's on its way
out." So we sold it. We felt like heretics doing it.
Did it turn out to be a wise thing to do?
It was, because very shortly after that the United Railroads
took it over and it wasn't a good paying thing at all.
I remember our dining room was on the back of our house.
There was a living room and a back parlor— a front parlor and
a back parlor — before we got to the dining room. We'd be
sitting at a meal and Dad would say, "Hush," and we would
stop, and the cable had stopped. He could hear it way back
there. There would be a silence that was noticeable to him.
Not to us.
He would dash for the phone right away and find out what
was the matter. It was maybe something that was only temporary,
17
Stewart: or something with a strand like they're having up there
now. My, those strands! A cable would snap in spots but
not altogether and it would snap and go way back and they
had to go way back under to get to the place where it had
happened.
Riess: They don't just furl it all in, they have to crawl —
Stewart: Sometimes they had to crawl along places in the slot to get
it out.
Riess: He didn't do any of that?
Stewart: Oh, no. Oh, no.
Riess: But he knew all about the construction because he had been in
on the construction.
Stewart: Oh yes, he knew every bit of it, all those great big "shivs,"
as he called them, those big wheels and all that, stuff. He
knew all about it. He used to take us down once in awhile and
show us through just for the fun of walking through the place.
There were walks where you could walk between the machinery.
Riess: Did it seem like a dangerous place?
Stewart: Oh, it seemed awful to me but it didn't to him. [Laughter]
I remember once or twice going down with Dad in the middle
of the night when they brought the cable from the Union Iron
Works and brought it with teams of, oh, thirty or forty horses,
to bring the cable up before they just put it in. It would be
done in the middle of the night because then there would be no
traffic around to bother.
Riess: That's quite a vision — thirty or forty horses!
Stewart: Oh, I don't know, there were an awful lot of horses.
Riess: Where was the Union Iron Works?
Stewart: It was down in South San Francisco. I. think it's still around
somewhere down there.
Riess: Were there any dreadful accidents that you recall from the
cable cars?
Stewart: Once or twice they'd let loose on the hill going down from the
Fairmont down there, but nothing very bad. I don't know. I
18
Stewart: don't remember that.
I do remember that Dad Invented a "sand-box" which went under
the grip and would be used to let out sand on a rainy day. A
lot of people wanted him to patent it — Mother was so mad that he
didn't — but then someone somewhere else saw and copied it and
did patent it.
The Chinese and Japanese in San Francisco
Riess: What were your contacts with the Chinese in San Francisco?
Stewart: We had a Chinaman that used to come to our house. We had a
dining room set that had woven reed seats, and this man used
to come around with a long pole over his shoulder and chairs
hanging down and he would come to the door and say, "Chair
fixee, chair fixee?" And Mother would let him take a couple
of them to have fixed so that they would all be in good shape
all the time.
Riess: Golly, now that's a service that you wouldn't find these days.
Stewart: Oh, no. No, not at all. [Chuckles]
Riess: Was Chinatown a place you set foot in?
Stewart: Oh, yes. I used to go down to Chinatown a lot. We used to go
down there and buy firecrackers. Dad used to take me down there
and we would get them and then come home and undo them so they
would all be separated and Dad would throw a couple out of the
window to see whether they worked or not. [Laughter]
Riess: For what sort of events?
Stewart: For the Fourth of July.
Riess: Oh, the Fourth of July.
Stewart: I've always loved Chinatown and I've always loved Chinese
people. I think they're awfully nice people, and Japanese
people too.
When I went to high school there were five or six Japanese
in our class and they went on to college and they were just
awfully nice. I remember Mother telling me one day that — she
had a Japanese man who cleaned for her. He came a couple of
19
Stewart: times a week to clean — and he was in my room and he said, "That's
your daughter up there?" It was a strip picture of the Tri Delts
or something.
Mother said, "Yes," and he said, "My son knows her. He
likes her very well. She no baby doll." [Laughter]
I didn't think that was very complimentary at all!
Riess: That's interesting. What do you think he meant?
Stewart: Well, he meant that I was sensible enough to talk to them and
things like that, not put my nose in the air. I think that that
was what he meant. I hope that's what he meant — "she no baby
doll."
Riess: A baby doll would be like some superior creature.
Stewart: Blushing over the boys and such.
Riess: What other kinds of contact would you have with the Chinese?
Stewart: Nothing very much in our class. In high school we knew them
very well, the Japanese, but not the Chinese so much. I don't
think there were many Chinese enrolled. The Japanese went to
college. The Japanese were ambitious to want to go on the
college.
Riess: They've always had that reputation.
Stewart: Yes. They're really a race of people that want to get along
in the world.
Riess: Other ethnic groups — there were a number of Russians that came
to San Francisco around 1916, 1917, after the revolution.
Stewart: Yes, I know, because I had some friends, Gordon and Betsy
Wagonette, who used to teach down there at night and the
Russian people would come and lean to speak English and
grammar.
Jewish Friends
Riess:
Then there was a Jewish population. What was your memory of
that?
20
Stewart: I knew a lot of Jewish people very well. They went to Pacific
Heights School and then on to Lowell, a lot of them. But I had
two different families that were very great friends. The [Isaac]
Wormser family. He was Sussman and Wormser, S&W. They were Jewish
people and they were just wonderful people. They lived just
around the corner from us on Webster Street just beyond California.
They were the ones that turned Unitarian. Mr. Wormser, I don't
think he ever did. But Mrs. Wormser did. She was a very fine
artist. She drew portraits of the children and things like that.
Elsie and Dorothy and Paul were the children.
Riess: Oh, Dorothy Wormser was an architect and worked with Julia
Morgan .
Stewart: Sure. Elsie was the older girl. Elsie and Dorie. We used to
call her Dorie. The Jacobs lived next door to them. They were
Jewish too and they were just awfully nice people.
I had another friend, Hilda Brandenstein. They were the
MJB coffee people. They had a Catholic maid and the family
didn't like fish at all but they always had fish on Friday on
account of Mary. [Laughter] Mrs. Brandenstein was one of the
finest women. I can always remember her going out the door with
a coup of soup or something for somebody who was sick somewhere.
She was just a very kind woman.
Riess: Did your mother know them, or was it more your generation?
Stewart: It was more my generation. Mother was a little bit stodgy.
She was a little bit stuffy when it came to — well, she didn't
mind my doing it at all or anything of that sort but she didn't
make many friends outside of her own group of friends. But our
group went to school together and got acquainted there, and I
used to love to go to their houses .
Riess: Well, I know that you're an adventurous character anyway.
Stewart: [Laughs] I make myself sound terrible. But I really enjoyed
the Wormser children. They were very, very great friends of
mine during the early years of our lives. I don't know where
they went to high school. I guess that they went to Girls'
High School.
Riess: Why wouldn't you have gone to Girls' High School?
Stewart: Because Girls' High met in the afternoon. It was after the
earthquake. At the time of the earthquake I graduated from
grammar school and Lowell High met in the morning. Girls'
21
Stewart: High met in Lowell High School in the afternoon and I didn't want
to go in the afternoon. I wanted to go in the morning and get it
done with. So that's how I had to go to Lowell in the first place.
But then, of course, I got interested and stayed on there. Girls'
High was pretty badly damaged by the earthquake and they couldn't
meet there so they met [at Lowell] in the afternoon. We went to
school at 8:00 and we got out I think at 12:30 and they came on
right after that and stayed until 4:30 or something like that.
It was a long day there but they got their schoolwork in all
right.
More Growing-up Memories
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
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Stewart:
Riess :
How soon after the earthquake did school resume normally?
Oh, for about a year and a half or so I think there were two
sessions in the school. I don't know for sure about that, but
I think it was about a year and a half.
When you said that your father told your mother to gather up
her favorite possessions as they were leaving the house, what
sort of things did she take?
They had gotten pictures of Martha and myself, large pictures
on easels, and Mother took both of those pictures, and it took
up so much room! Father took the dishes, our best set, and put
then all in a tin box and took them out into the back yard and
dug a hole and buried them.. Then to be careful that it wasn't
known he stamped all over it and broke most of the dishes.
[Laughter] He had to get Mother a whole new set of dishes.
But she brought out, oh, I don't know what. I always remember
those two pictures coming out there. Martha and I were at the
Kellys' house on Spruce Street at the time and we jusf nearly
died when those things arrived because we thought, oh, it would
be the last of those things.
I hope you have them still.
No. We got rid of them — well, when Mother was gone we didn't —
but after Father died we got rid of all those things, sold them
to somebody for the frames because they had lovely gold frames
around them, gold gingerbread work on them. We sold them or
gave them to welfare or something, got rid of them anyway, took
the pictures out of them and threw them away.
Did your mother do the cooking and sewing?
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Stewart: Yes, she did all the cooking. No sewing. We had a sewing woman
that came, a Miss Cheeseman, I always remember. She used to come
once a month, I think, and stay for two or three days. She didn't
stay; she came and went. She lived in the Mission and she came
and went but she would "sew us up" as Mother said.
Riess: Did she have dashing new designs or was it always the same thing?
Stewart: Oh, it was just the most awful plain stuff you ever saw!
Mother used to buy our clothes at Hastings, of all places,
which had a girls' department then that was very good, and I
remember Mother used to buy quite a few of our clothes there,
but Miss Cheeseman would do the other things.
I remember one day Miss Cheeseman was there and Mother was
out, and she got sewed out. She had nothing to do, and she said,
"What can we do?"
I said, "Let's make me a dress." So I went into Mother's
room and she had a drawer that she kept material in and I got
out this piece of white material.
Miss Cheeseman said, "This will make a nice dress," and we
went ahead and made the dress and found out we made it out of
Mother's kitchen curtains! [Laughter] She came home and she was
furious with me because I had taken that material. She had
gotten it and it was very nice material, just summer material,
and Miss Cheeseman had made a nice dress for me out of it and
I loved it. Everybody would say something about my dress and
I'd say, "It's made out of my mother's kitchen curtains."
Riess: You were the kind of child that would always tell the truth.
Stewart: Mother was so embarassed when I'd say that.
Riess: Things were usually white, weren't they?
Stewart: Yes.
Riess: So much trouble to take care of.
Stewart: Mother always wore lovely tailor-made suits. She used to come
home from downtown or wherever she was, and she'd go up and
take off that suit and put on a white dress and white shoes.
They were like nurse's uniforms. They were plain white and
she used to send them to the laundry and they would come home
just stiff and starchy. She wore three or four of them a
week.
23
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess :
Stewart:
She'd come down and go in the kitchen and put on a kitchen apron
and make the supper, because she was not one for having a maid
around or anything of that sort.
Was she a good cook?
Oh, a very good cook, very good, an excellent cook.
In what tradition?
Oh, pies and cakes and roasts, fried chicken. I always remember
she used to make one fried chicken: she'd fry the chicken and
then fry another pan of fried onions, cut up kind of thin fried
onions, and then just for the last twenty minutes she'd turn the
onions over the chicken. She called that "Chicken Smothered In
Onion," and oh, it was good.
Yes, it sounds very good. I can see why your father didn't want
her to go running away during the earthquake and fire.*
We had a couple of uncles who had gone up to Benicia with the
family and they would come back and stay with us on the week
and then go back to Benicia on Sunday after the transportation
got better. They would always bring back rolls and cakes and
things from up there because we couldn't bake.
I had one brother-in-law whose name was Jim Harris and when
he came out here to California — he had two sisters that married
two brothers and they never changed their names, which was worse.
This Uncle Jim Harris came out, Aunt Ella and Uncle Jim, and they
couldn't distinguish between the two Jim Harrises, so they called
him Jim Cooper. His father had been a cooper, so he was Uncle
Jim Cooper to us but his name was really Harris. [Laughter]
Cable Car Etiquette
Riess: Was the Golden Gate Park one of your childhood memories?
Stewart: I can remember going out there to play on the lovely play
ground there. It had merry-go-rounds and you could buy apple
pie a la mode.
*Lucy Murdock Harris' obituary said of her that
interest in life was always her home."
'her chief
2A
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
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Stewart :
Riess:
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Stewart:
At the time of the earthquake in San Francisco the schools all
closed and in June they had a mass graduation of all the classes —
high school and the grammar school—in Golden Gate Park. We
sat in our class and they handed around the diplomas. It was
down there where the bandstand is, there in that group, and we
were all gathered there — oh, thousands, because there were so
many schools and they all had graduating classes.
When you went to parties or dances later would the boys pick you
up in buggies or would you all just hop on the — ?
We'd go on the streetcar. I always remember we used to wear long
white kid gloves and one time four of us went together, Hilda
and her beau and me and my beau. We got on the streetcar and
the streetcar gave a jerk, and Hilda put her hands like this
[crosses hands over her arms] and somebody caught her because
she wasn't going to grab onto any stanchion with her white
kid gloves on. She was going to save her gloves in all events.
Was it safe to be on the cable cars at night?
Oh, I wouldn't be on there by myself,
generally.
I'd be with somebody
But if you were by yourself would that be considered to be
all right?
Well, I don't think it would be considered to be all right. I
think young women stayed at home or went out with an escort.
You didn't do much alone.
When I was in college I had a beau who came and had
breakfast with me and then we went down on the streetcar
together to the ferry and then we'd go across on the 7:00
ferry and get to Berkeley for an 8:00 class.
Your mother fed him breakfast?
No, she didn't get up. I would get breakfast,
have coffee and rolls or something.
We would just
The Panama Pacific International Exposition, YWCA Building
Riess: And was the Exposition a great moment?
Stewart: It was the most beautiful I've ever seen, and I've been to a
25
Stewart: good many. I've been to the New York one and the Chicago one
and another one In San Francisco and different things when we've
been to other places, but I tell you that nothing ever came up
to that one. It was simply beautiful. There was one court there
that was all pink hyacinths and oh, the smell of those hyacinths
at night was simply beautiful.
Riess: Was there a lot of anticipation of the whole thing on the part of
the people in San Francisco?
Stewart: Oh, yes. Everybody bought season tickets. They bought them
early so they had the money to spend on the things there.
When I got out of college I worked in the YWCA there at
the Exposition after the Exposition closed. The girls, sales
girls, who were finishing up and closing up their exhibits, had
to have some place to go and it was so rainy and the buildings
all leaked, it was a terrible mess. So we kept the YWCA open
and the fire going in the living room and those girls would come
in there and buy a lunch and sit by the fire.
Riess: Which Y was this?
Stewart: Well, it was run by the San Francisco Y on Sutter. They ran
this YWCA building throughout the Exposition, and afterwards
for awhile they kept it open with a cook and a busboy and me.
I had the best time. I remember one day I was going to a
luncheon downtown and I came pretty much dressed up that day, and
somebody said, "Where are you going?" I said, "I'm going down
town, and look at the rain! It's just pouring buckets and I've
got to go out to the streetcar and get on that car."
Pretty soon somebody drove up in front and the busboy
ran out and said, "Here's your transportation," and it was
the patrol car. They came and took me over to the streetcar!
Riess: You made a lot of friends in that place.
Stewart: Well, we had a lot of good times there. I learned more about
cooking from that man because he showed me how to make things
stretch and how to make things go, stuffed eggs — to put some
mashed potatoes in them or something to make them go further.
Riess: How did you get that job?
Stewart: I was working down at the main Y on Sutter Street, and I knew
Mrs. Merrill very well. She suggested that I maybe could go
out there and do that while it lasted. It was only about a
26
Stewart: month or so that it lasted.
Riess: What kind of job was it though that you had been hired to do at
the main Y?
Stewart: I was assistant to the general secretary. I was one of her
slavies, I didn't have a very good job. [Laughter]
Riess: You were living at home then?
Stewart: Yes, I was living at home, and Father said, "Now, you're going
to get a salary, and you're not going to have any expenses, so
you can put the money in the bank and save it, and I'll start
you off with a couple of hundred dollars," or something like that.
I've forgotten now what it was.
And when we were to get married, which was in August, he
said to me, "I want to go down and straighten that out and put
some more money in the bank for you." We went down and we met
Mortimer Fleishhacker at the door. He was the president of the
bank at that time and he walked over with us because he knew
Dad well and he was talking to Dad.
Dad stuck my bank book through the window at a certain
young teller and the man came back looking pretty worried and
Dad turned around and said, "Yes, young man, what's the matter?"
He said, "This account has been overdrawn." I had never had
a checkbook in my life and I was having the best time!
Mortimer Fleishhacker just busted. He just roared and
walked away. Dad turned to me and he said, "That poor boy!"
He was feeling sorry for my husband. [Laughter] Well, it
didn't last long. I got down to business right away when I
had to do it.
Summer Vacations
Riess: Where did your family take vacations?
Stewart: When I was young we went up to Calistoga Hot Springs. Mother
was raised in Clear Lake County and she used to love to go
back there.
But when I got to high school we rented a house in
27
Stewart: Larkspur, which is near Mill Valley, not too far away, in Marin
County. Dad didn't think there was any point to buying a house.
He'd rather rent a house. So we rented for the whole summer and
every year we went back to that same house each year and I used
to have the best time because I used to have people over all the
time from San Francisco to stay a week or so with me and we could
do things. We'd go down and row on the slough, down there near
San Quentin, and we did a lot of those kinds of things. We had
a very good time. Mother was a good cook and she would supply
the meals and we used to help her a little bit, of course, around
the edges, but we had a wonderful time in that great big old house
there in Larkspur.
It had porches all over it, and we had beds all over the
place, outdoors under the trees. It was lovely.
Father would sometimes come in the middle of the week, but
mostly he came on Friday nights and stayed until Monday morning.
Transplanted Californians
Riess: You were such a Calif ornian. How did you survive the move East?
Stewart: Well, we loved it. We went there in '29. We had never known
what it was to see snow or anything of that sort and we just
loved it. We were really very popular people because we didn't
rub California into them all the time. They were so afraid
we were going to do that!
We didn't have any friends back there at all, we just went
back there absolutely without neighbors or friends or relatives
or anybody. We had never been East before, and we walked into
this new place. We took a nephew with us to live too at the
same time. Charlie's sister was a missionary in India and this
boy of hers had a couple more years of high school, and so we
took him with us. Our son Jim and he were very close, although
he was older than Jim. They had good times together.
Riess: Had you always as a Calif ornian or as a Westerner thought of
the East as a place where people were more sophisticated or
more cultured?
Stewart: Oh, I thought so. When Charlie had a chance to move there — he
had a chance to choose between Baltimore and Boston — I said I
thought I'd rather go to Boston on account of the educational
28
Stewart:
facilities. There's more colleges and more places to be
Riess:
Stewart:
there, and I
so too.
didn't convince him completely, but he thought
Riess:
We went to Boston and we got an apartment for awhile
while we house-hunted, because we couldn't stay in a hotel,
and the company wasn't very crazy about having that kind of
bills. So I went out with a man and found an apartment that
was big enough for all five of us, and then started house
hunting.
I got hold of a real estate man; I had heard that
Newton was an awfully good place to live around Boston,
so we went out through there and I found this great big
flat, four bedrooms and two baths and we lived in that for
a couple of years. That was in Newtonville, and that was
where the kids went to school and Jimmy went to junior high.
Then we moved up to another great big house and we
lived there. Then we had to move to Providence, Rhode Island,
and we lived there in a couple of places, and then we moved
to Washington, D.C.
That sounds so frantic. Weren't you always having your
fingers crossed that California would be your next assignment
or wereyou really ready to be free of it?
When we went there they told us it would be two or three
years and we were nineteen years in the East and we didn't
mind it at all. We really got along beautifully and had a
wonderful time there.
Charlie went there as a manager of a company in Boston.
It was American Bitumuls Company, a paving company connected
with the Standard Oil Company — so you didn't lose your
Standard Oil seniority at all.
He went there and in the process he brought people back
with him. Shortly after he got there he sent for this one
and that one and the other. So we ended up with a bunch of
people from California coming back there to live and we used
to have Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners with all of them
there. We'd have as many as twenty-eight or thirty for
Christmas dinner and Thanksgiving dinner in our house. They'd
come and bring. their children and stay all day and stay until
after supper at night when they'd clean the turkeys.
[Laughter]
So you got down to making the turkey soup.
29
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No, I wasn't ever much for turkey soup. I don't like turkey
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soup very much,
pretty well!
But when we cleaned it up we cleaned it up
Did you have regular expeditions back to see your family?
Oh, yes. I used to come about every year or so. They came
to visit us, too. Mother didn't, Mother was very sick toward
the end, but Dad came a couple of times for Christmas back
there with us in the East, and I would come out and bring
the children. Charlie couldn't come because it was a busy
time for him. Paving was a summertime job; in the winter it
was more a promotional job. So he would stay home and I would
come. I drove out two or three times with the children.
What is bitumuls?
It's bituminous asphalt.
Is that what we call macadam, or black top?
It's the black top. It's the kind you see on the road that
goes down dry.
One time we were riding along the road and Jim saw
this pile of stuff by the road and he says, "Oh, isn't
that awful!" and Charlie turned to him and he said, "That's
your bread and butter!"
30
II THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
[Interview 2: January 24, 1978]
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The Gymnasium Course
Why did you think you would stay only two years at Cal?
Well, I just felt that I would have had enough by that time.
[Chuckles] I wasn't a student very much and I just thought,
oh dear, I think I'll go for a couple of years and then I'll
quit. That's why I took the two year physical education
course. under Professor and Mrs. Magee. You could get a
certificate at the end of two years in the gymnasium.
Did you have classes with the great Galey?
No, but I had Henry Morse Stephens, some classes with him. 1
took German too. I took a regular course, but most of my
work was in the gymnasium.
We learned to get up and instruct in gymnastics and
that's why I never know which is my right hand or my left,
because I used to be up in front of the class and I would
say, "Your right hand," and it would be your left, of
course, because you would be doing the opposite. We did
have some anatomy courses with other people, but the Magees,
they taught the gymnasium part.
You were equipped then to teach gymnastics to girls?
Yes, physical ed.
How about group sports?
I did play basketball in college. But there wasn't any of
that in the course. There was just the part of it that was
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physical.
How about dance?
We had square dancing.
Gymnastics today is an art.
Oh yes, we used to have the rings and the bars and things
like that. But it was mostly classwork in a large class, a
class of about thirty, I guess, that were taking it at that
time.
All with the intention of being PE teachers?
Yes.
A two-year degree was all they needed?
Well, they got a certificate for these two years.
What did you wear?
I think we wore white middy blouses and black bloomers and
tennis shoes.
Was it just girls in this class?
Yes. It was held in the girls' gymnasium in Hearst Hall.
What was that building like?
It was a high dome kind of place. It had lots of dressing
rooms and showers and things of that sort. There was one room
in the back where the girls would go and have their lunch there.
You mean lunch that they brought?
Yes, lunch that they brought, and Mrs. Hearst always supplied
tea and cream and sugar and the girls could make a tea for
themselves. She used to do such lovely things. At the time
of the Big Game, she used to send up boxes of chrysanthemums
for the girls to wear, the ones that had beaux or were going
out with somebody, they could go there and get a chrysanthemum
and go 'to the game.
32
Phoebe Apperson Hearst
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I used to take Mrs. Hearst to Mrs. [Winifred] Rieber's for
her sittings when she had the portrait done that was hung in
Hearst Hall.* The Riebers lived up on the hill, back some
where, not too far from the campus.
You used to take her?
I used to walk up with her oftentimes, yes. She'd come down
to campus to Hearst Hall, and we'd go together.
Why were you assigned that?
Well, I don't know. [Chuckles] It just happened to be.
Then, of course, I was AWS [Associated Women Students]
president when the picture was hung and when it was dedicated
I helped to do that.
So how many sittings would you say she had?
Oh, she had lots. I didn't go to all of them but I used to
go to some of them, and Mrs. Rieber would come to her for
some.
But the two of you would walk up, and discuss what?
Oh, just discuss the time of day.
Was she interested in you personally?
She was interested in everybody personally. She was just so
interested in the girls in the gym there.
Who had commissioned the portrait? Had she herself?
*For more on Professor and Mrs. Charles H. Rieber see Pepper,
Stephen C., Art and Philosophy at the University of California.
1919 to 1962. ROHO, Berkeley, 1963, pp. 96-101.
JKSSIE HARRIS
1914
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No, no, I think the University most likely.
Did she dress very elegantly for that?
She had a lovely lavendery purple stiff dress on and I just
remember it was kind of lavender purple.
Did she walk up in it or did she take it with her and then
change?
She'd take it with her, yes.
Can you describe Mrs. Rieber's studio?
No, I can't. I never went into the studio. I would just go
up and leave her there. I never was in there.
Then did you wait and walk back with her?
Yes, some of the times, or somebody would come for her, her
chauffeur would come for her.
How much contact did the girls have with Dean Lucy Stebbins?
Well, she had a little house in Berkeley and she used to have
a great many of us there for Sunday night suppers and things
like that. She was a very nice person in kind of a stiff,
stern way because she was, I think, from Boston or somewhere.
But she was always nice to the girls.
She stood for stiff upper lip, or moral —
Oh, yes, moral turpitude [chuckles], whatever that is. She
was very interested in things that went on.
What kind of contact with her did you have in your various
positions?
Well, I had quite a bit the. last couple of years. I used to
see her a lot because there would be problems that would come
up; or she'd send for me and I'd go; and I'd go to her for
advice and things . She was very nice .
Pledging Delta Delta Delta
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I guess we ought to go back and describe your meteoric rise
34
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from little Miss Harris to the president of AWS. In your first
two years were you involved in University affairs?
No, not very much because I commuted from San Francisco and I
didn't get involved in very much campus activities aside from
the gymnasium and I knew the girls in the gymnasium so well.
They were from all walks of life. A good many of them were not
sorority girls and I got to know them so well and liked them so
well. I used to stay over there for lunch half the time
instead of going home to the house for lunch.
Home to the house?
I was at the Tri Delt house.
When did you become a Tri Delt?
When I first entered college.
Did you know some girls that were there?
I knew the Frisbie family, two girls ahead of me, and Edith
was one of my bridesmaids and she was a friend of mine from
high school days and we were rushed before we went to college
even and went in there very shortly after we entered college.
You mean some of the girls from Lowell were rushed?
Yes. Edith Frisbie and Marianne Bell and I were three that
went in together into the Tri Delt house from Lowell.
So if you were living off campus what sort of things did you
do with the Tri Delts?
Oh, I'd stay over a lot for dances and things like that and
Monday night I'd stay over for our fraternity meeting, but I
always would have to come home the next day, get over back to
San Francisco after school was out, so that made kind of
a — I didn't have as much contact as I would have liked on
campus.
Did you start taking a role in fraternity organization or
government of the Tri Delts?
I was a very poor Tri Delt, I'll tell you. [Chuckles] I
was good, I mean I paid attention to business, but I stayed
away an awful lot because I was at gym all during my freshman
and sophomore year. I'd stay over there and eat lunch.
35
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So you're saying really that as much as your social life
took place In the gym as It —
Well, no, we had a lot of social life there, of course, at
the house. But It would be weekends. I'd stay over on
weekends .
When you say girls from all walks of life —
•
A lot of them were not sorority people at all.
That would mean then that they were from a lower class?
No, some of them just didn't want to join. They called them
"plebes."
Were there places in the sororities for everyone if they
wanted to join?
Sure, not if they wanted to join, but if they were asked to
join. There were a lot of sororities in those days and a
lot of clubs, a lot of very nice clubs.
I do think the University probably did draw people from all
walks of life, people you might never have met, people from
farms or from southern California?
Or from Fresno or Bakersfield or places like that where their
folks had a ranch or something, but they were very nice girls.
1 got to know them very well and I really think that was one
of the reasons 1 was elected as AWS president. There were
four of us who ran at the time we ran, three other sorority
girls and myself, and 1 won because of that vote. I got to
know those girls so well and they got to know me well and
they didn't know the others at all.
The others just didn't have that contact outside of the
sorority house?
Not outside of the sorority house. They used to say after
wards, "Well, no wonder you stayed away." It never would
have entered my head to be doing any politicking or anything
like that. I just liked to be there.
36
Moving Over to Berkeley
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Tell me again, please, how you finally came to live on
campus?
I met Dr. O'Brien on the street in San Francisco one day,
and he said, "How's everything going?"
I said, "Well, going all right, but they don't let me
live over there. They want me home." (My sister had been
married and they wanted me to be at home.)
To help out or just because they were lonely?
Oh, they were lonely. They wanted somebody at home to bring
them the news and all that sort of stuff.
So he said, "I'll fix that." About a week later he met
my mother on the street and he said, "How's Jessie? I saw
her the other day and she didn't fook awfully well."
Mother said, "Oh, my, what's the matter?" and she took
me down to him right away. He went through all the rigmarole
of taking a blood count and all that stuff and he said, "Well,
I think she'd doing a little too much. I think she'd better
quit college." Of course, by that time they didn't want me
to quit and he said, "Either that or she's got to live over
there."
So right from then I lived over there at college.
I met him one time on the street later on and I said,
"How was that blood count?" and I knew it was all right
because I was majoring in bacteriology.
He said, "If it had been any better you'd have been
sick." [Laughter]
That's a good story. He was a good friend.
Ah, he was a good friend.
Well, Mother got to be very proud of the fact that I was
doing well and everything, but she hadn't realized she was
cramping my style terribly keeping me home.
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Was that your second year?
Bacteriology Studies
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That was the end of my second year when I went into the
regular work of bacteriology. I went over there for the
last two years, '12 to '14.
How did you make that decision?
I was interested, of course, in that sort of thing. The
anatomy brought those things into line and I kind of went
into it pretty naturally. I don't know whether there was
any — there were several professors that I had that were very,
very close to me and very near to me. Dr. John Neverson
Force was head of the bacteriology department and he was
awfully good to me.
Were some of the people in bacteriology — the women — then
going into medicine?
Yes, yes. Some of them went into medicine and some of them
went into being bacteriologists in hospitals. One of them
is still working at the blood bank in San Mateo, but she does
it on a basis of volunteer service. She doesn't get paid or
anything. She doesn't want to work that hard but she works
pretty hard.
Did you have classmates among the women who became doctors?
I don't know whether I did or not. I don't know.
Did the sorority place any emphasis on academics? Was there
any competition among the sororities, for instance, to have
a group of really academically top girls?
Well, we had to keep our grades up. There was that about it.
There was a house senior going after you when you didn't keep
your grades up. But I don't think there was any competition
between the sororities at all.
Were some of them known to be the places where the "best
brains" were?
No, I don't think so.
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How would the house senior know what everybody's grades
were?
Well, the senior in our house would see your grades and
say, "You've got to pick them up now. You've got to do
better than you're doing," or something like that.
Other than the senior at the house you must have had a
resident house mother. Was she a very important person in
your life?
No; she was there; she was a chaperone; she was important
because we all loved her, but she kept in the background a
good deal. She was just there and saw that things were
properly handled and that there were no escapades of any
sort around. [Chuckles]
Did there tend to be escapades?
No, no.
There wasn' t any attempt to sneak the boys in?
Oh, no, nothing of that sort in those days.
How about cigarettes and liquor?
Oh, nothing of that sort. There was nothing of that sort
in the house at all in those days. I don't know about
cigarettes. Maybe there might have been a few. I don't
know. But they were very secretive about it. [Chuckles]
A Friendship With President Wheeler
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Where was the Tri Delt house?
We first lived on College Avenue and Dwight Way on the corner
there. It was just a regular plain old house, but it was a
good big house. It's now a service station on that corner.
We rented it and it was sold, then we moved over to Arch Street
on the other side of campus and that was when I got to know
President Wheeler so well because it was right up the hill —
outside the campus, but right up the hill from the president's
house. I used to come over in the mornings so often and he'd
come out of his front door and come down the steps and I'd be
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going by and I'd stop and wait for him or he'd stop and wait
for me and we'd walk across together. Oh, he was a nice
man.
What did the two of you talk about?
Oh, we talked about — he'd ask me all kinds of questions about
where I went to school and what I did and one morning I remem
ber he picked up the corner of my sweater and said, "Is that
silk?"
I said, "No, that's not silk. That's just cotton."
"Well," he said, "I'm glad of it. There's too much silk
around this campus!" [Laughter]
Was he getting the pulse of the people in talking to you?
Oh, yes. One morning he came out of there. I remember he
was so mad because they had discontinued a course that
Benjamin Jr. wanted to take [chuckles], and it was discontinued.
That was the first year and Benjamin Jr. was wanting to take
the course, and it was discontinued.
I've never heard of Benjamin Jr.
I don't know whether he's still alive or not.
Do you recall whether he was a success in life?
No, I don't think he was. He wasn't very successful socially
in college. He was kind of a queer kind of a boy, kind of a
stick.
How about Mrs . Wheeler? Did you know her?
I did but I wasn't very fond of her. [Chuckles] I always
remember one time the Wheelers came to the house for a Tri
Delt faculty dinner. We had gas logs in the living room, and
President Wheeler stood there and was talking to one of the
girls, and Mrs. Wheeler said, "Benjie, look out, you'll burn
your coat tails!"
After they left for home, one of the girls got up and
stood by the fireplace and said, "Benjie, look out, you'll
burn your coat tails" and she looked up and there he was,
standing in the door. He had forgotten his rubbers! He
just roared, he laughed about it! It was funny, but, oh,
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Gwen felt terrible!
She [Mrs, Wheeler] kept very much in the background. She
was very much like Bess Truman in that sort of thing, kept in
the background a very great deal of the time. Of course, she
went to receptions and things, she'd be there. But she was very
stiff and starchy.
And it sounds like Wheeler did better in his student contacts
than in his faculty contacts.
Oh, I think he did, although I don't know.
I've read that he was a paternal sort of a president who
really didn't want the students to overdo it in the academics,
wanted them to have fun.
Yes, he was very nice that way. I always remember one morning
when he said to me, "Where did you go to high school?" I
said, "I went to Lowell." He said, "Those Lowell children,
they certainly get along in the world after they get over
here ! " [Laughter ]
Do you remember the university meetings?
Yes, he was a wonderful speaker. I have a book — I gave it to
Roger [Samuelsen] — I had a book of Benjamin Ide's speeches.
They were compiled in a book and one of them was our
graduating talk and it happened to be one of the ones that was
a good one. When the 1914 class graduated he gave it at the
Greek Theater and, oh, it was a wonderful speech. He used to
be a minister, you know. He graduated from Brown University,
I think it was, and went on into the clergy before he became
a president.
Presidents Wheeler and Barrows
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Of course, then they left the campus and David Prescott
Barrows was the president for my last year, 1914.
That's because Wheeler went to Europe?
I don't know where he went, but he disappeared.
I think he did go to Europe and that was the time he met the
Al
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Kaiser.
Oh yes, I remember that. There was some talk about that.
But he was a very nice man. I liked him very much.
Did you have any contact with Barrows?
Oh yes, my senior year I saw a great deal of President
Barrows .
How would you contrast him with Wheeler?
[Pauses] Well, I don't know. He was a very pleasant man.
He was a very jovial man, and he wasn't stiff at all or
anything like that, but he was very interested in college and
the university ms a university and I think he was very popular
with the faculty.
When I hear about those days so many meetings could only
happen because people walked instead of drove and they had
a chance to talk.
Oh, yes. There were just several cars. I remember we had one
girl in our class who had a little red roadster and she used
to drive. But there were very few cars. You walked.
You got to know people because you had a chance to talk to
them.
Oh, sure.
Was the president's house a place where student events took
place?
They had some events there. I remember going to a luncheon
there one time after a University meeting; he invited the
speakers to lunch afterwards.
That must have been in your AWS years.
Yes.
Riess:
University YWCA
How did you broaden your contacts on campus during your
42
Riess: junior year? What were your activities then?
Stewart: Well, I was quite active in the YWCA there. The girls on campus
would go there a lot. We had a very nice scretary; Lily
Margaret Sherman her name was. They had a building there on
Telegraph.
Riess: What kinds of things did you do? Did you work off campus?
Stewart: No, no, we worked on campus.
Riess: Doing what?
Stewart: Having meetings and doing things there for the Y. People, the
girls, would come in in quantities.
Riess: You mean girls from the town?
Stewart: No, from the campus. It was the campus YWCA. She was the
general secretary of the University of California.
Riess: Yes, it's just that I'm used to the kinds of activities of the
University Y today, like going out and doing social work in the
community.
Stewart: They didn't do much of that sort in those days. It was just
giving girls a Christian attitude towards life. That was their
goal, I think, as much as anything. She did an awful lot to
help girls that were lonely or in trouble or something of that
sort. She was very good.*
Riess: Would you be assigned a "little sister" or somebody to work with?
Stewart: Oh, no. I don't think so. I never was.
Riess: When you say a "Christian attitude," what does that mean?
Stewart: Prayer meetings and things like that.
Riess: So the Y was one of your activities in your junior year, and in
your sophomore year you were class vice-president.
Stewart: Was I? I'd forgotten that.
Riess : Yes .
Stewart: Well, when we went over there to college we went over eighty
strong from Lowell High School and, of course, when we'd run
*Mrs. Stewart continued to work with the YWCA in Glendale,
California and in the towns in the east where she and her
family lived
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Stewart: for office we'd get elected because there was a large majority
of people that knew other people and would say "well, he is a
fine person," or "she is — " or something.
Campus Offices and Torch and Shield
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I know when we had our freshman class meeting, somebody nominated
a man, who was really a nice man, in fact he was Milton Marks'
father, [State] Senator Milton Marks' father. He got up and said
he couldn't do anything now, but later on he might be interested,
and everybody just howled because everybody was saving their
steam for later on. [Laughter]
Was it difficult to combine the academic with all of this class
activity? Did you have to burn the midnight oil?
Sometimes if 1 had a speech 1 had to burn the midnight oil a
little bit because I wasn't a speech-maker.
I wondered if that came easily to you?
It didn'.t come so easily. 1 even took a public speaking course,
a couple of them.
As soon as you were elected president of AWS that also meant
that you became a member of Prytanean?
1 was Prytanean in my junior year.
What was that for then?
Well, 1 had mixed in a lot of things around campus. I can't
remember exactly what all, but 1 was busy around campus.
What was Torch and Shield? Was that a great honor, and a secret
one?
Yes, you weren't supposed to tell anyone the whole year, and
then at the Pilgrimage time at the graduation you wore your
ring, and I thought that was terrible.
Whose idea was this whole Torch and Shield thing?
I think this emanated from the dean's office. She needed some
.. i -,,-. .. .-::fj g.. /,,
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Stewart: help with problems and she asked several people and they joined
this little group, 1 think; I may be wrong about it.
Riess: I think you're right. 1 think it was the other dean, though.
I think Lucy Sprague Mitchell was the dean who thought that one
out.* How were you asked?
Stewart: I don't remember that.
Riess: Did they explain to you what your job would be?
Stewart: It was as an advisory capacity. We were to help the dean in
any way we could and bring to her things that needed her
attention, and things of that sort. But we didn't do very
much.
Riess: Because if you were not known in this role, then things might
not even come to your attention.
Stewart: They were more liable to come to your attention than if they
knew you were a member. They'd keep things from you if they
knew you were a member of that.
It really was hard on me. I was very upset about the whole
thing because one of my very best friends who was a Tri Delt
and became senior vice-president of the class, she and I led the
procession at the Pilgrimage, and it really hurt her terribly
to feel that 1 had been there all year and had never said
anything about it because I couldn't, and I felt very guilty
about the whole thing.
Riess: Of course you couldn't, you were on your honor.
Stewart: I know I couldn't, but she didn't — I know it made a little
difference in her feelings. All year I had been doing this
kind of thing and not saying anything about it. I felt very
badly.
Riess: How difficult. It sounds like you were really spies.
Stewart: I don't think we were spies exactly, but we were to bring
to the dean's attention things that needed correction.
Riess: On what order? Give an example.
Stewart: I didn't do any of it. [Chuckles] I was no good as a Torch
and Shield member. I was really no good at all because I didn't
*See The Prytaneans oral history, page 77.
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Stewart: see that there was much that needed attention that we couldn't
take care of ourselves.
Riess: Would these be matters of honor? Of cheating?
Stewart: No, no, nothing of that sort. I mean more social things. Girls
getting too friendly with boys and that sort of stuff that she
had problems over.
Riess: As AWS president what kind of liaison role had you? Were you
the spokeswoman for women?
Stewart: Well, I would go to the president about different things, I
can't remember what for instance, but 1 would go to him Just
once in a very great while when I needed some advice on some
thing or other. He would give it gladly.
Riess: Were feminism and the vote issues for women?
Stewart: No.
Riess: So you weren't doing battle for women?
Stewart: No, nothing of that sort, no.
The Campanile Corner store Ceremony
Riess:
Stewart :
Riess:
Stewart :
Riess:
Stewart :
The years that you were there many buildings went up on campus.
In that period of time under John Galen Howard, Durant Hall was
finished, the Agriculture Hall was finished, Sather Gate and
the bridge, and Sather Tower.
I think a little part more of the Chemistry Building was added
on. The Doe Library 1 think was built around that time.
That's right. It was just finished in 1911 too. But it is
striking to think of how many things were completed just then.
The population of the campus grew quite a little bit and I think
they needed more buildings.
What is in the cornerstone of the Campanile that you helped to
dedicate? [March 18, 1914]
Oh, I don't know what all, a Daily Cal for that day and, oh,
.':•/ ;
46
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
I don't know, a lot of stuff.
Who selected it?
President Wheeler did.
Was there a great gathering for that?
Oh, yes. We gathered around right down near the foundation
of it. I don't think they had loudspeakers. The crowd was
close enough so they could hear most of the talk.
Was that a speech that you had to rehearse ahead of time?
[Laughter] Yes. I think, as I remember, that I took the
topic of the bells. We all chose a different thing to talk
about and I talked about the chimes.
Women Leaders and Classmates
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess :
Stewart:
When you were rehearsing your speeches would you do it in
front of your Tri Delt sisters?
No, I don't know where 1 would do it. I would try to get off
somewhere by myself.
Do you recall anything of Jessica Peixotto?
I knew her but I don't remember anything much about her.
There were some accomplished women at Cal then. I was think
ing about what women expected that they might do with
themselves, and who they could look to among their professors
to see that there were no limits.
Grace Bird, for instance, was the dean of women in Bakers field,
and Marjorie [Mclntosh] Sutherland was a dean of women
somewhere down there.
Are these girls who you would have guessed would become — ?
No, 1 never would have guessed that Grace Bird would, but
Grace Bird 1 think still is quite active.
Riess:
Yes.
47
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Bless:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess :
Stewart:
Riess :
Stewart:
She was an awfully nice person, and I don't mean but well,
yes, she could have been a leader very easily.
How about some of the others who were just really outstanding
in your recollection? Grunsky?
Clo tilde Grunsky [Taylor], yes. She's still active in the
Alumni Association. She writes a little bit about the 1914
class in the alumni bulletin.
Any of them you would have expected to go places who just
disappeared from view completely?
Deborah Dyer. 1 don't know whatever became of her. Deborah
Dyer and Minerva Halprin. Oh, there were quite a number of
girls who were very good people.
Deborah Dyer was one of the speakers in that Campanile
cornerstone laying.
Yes.
And J.L. Schoolcraft — who was he?
He was our senior president, 1 think.
Aubrey Drury. Do you recall him?
Yes. He became something quite famous in the state of
California, in Save- The- Redwoods .
That was Newton Drury.
Newton Drury, that's right. Aubrey was pretty good too.
[He was a writer and like Newton, a conservationist. S.R.]
Donald McLaughlin was in your class too.
He was a tennis player, wasn't he?
1 know that his mother was close to Mrs. Hearst.
Maybe Donald McLaughlin 's mother was her secretary and that
was why Mrs. Hearst sent a special train up to Oakland and
took us all down to Pleasanton for the day, the whole class,
on account of him.
Riess:
And served you lunch?
48
Stewart:
Yes, a beautiful sit-down lunch.*
Life in The Sequoias; Retirement
Riess :
Stewart:
Riess :
Stewart:
The first day The Sequoias was open I moved in: June 1, 1961.
How had you heard about it?
I heard about it through our church in Saratoga. There was a
notice sent that there was to be a meeting in the Los Gatos
Presbyterian Church.
Our minister spoke to me about it because I was at loose
ends. My husband was gone and this great big house that we
lived in up there on the hill was too big for me alone, and
the children didn't like me to be alone, and all that stuff.**
So I went to listen to this man and 1 was so fascinated by it
that I came home and wrote a check and applied right then for
coming in.
1 felt that it was just near enough to my daughter, who
lived in Saratoga. My son didn't disapprove. He approved of
it heartily. He said, "Mother, you won't live with either
one of us and we don't want you living alone and I think that's
the best thing you can do." My daughter didn't feel that way.
She felt I should have stayed in Saratoga and maybe get a
smaller house with a white picket fence and give cookies to the
children. [Laughter]
Have you found it to be what you expected?
Oh, absolutely. I haven't one criticism to make of this place
in all that time. Of course, there are times when the food
*For more, see McLaughlin, Donald, Careers in Mining Geology
and Managment, University Governance and Teaching, ROHO, 1975,
p. 14.
**"Sunshine Hill" in Saratoga was designed by Hugh Comstock in
1948. Thomas D. Church was the landscape architect.
49
Stewart:
Riess :
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
maybe isn't quite as good — but it's never good at home all
the time.
How about the population of people?
Oh, the people are wonderful. There were about fifty of us
who came in the first day and we became very close friends,
that fifty. It was two weeks or so before some more came
in; they let us get settled and then they added some more.
Of course, the furniture trucks that came in here were Just
terrific! They had to wait in line outside to come in. And,
of course, the place wasn't finished. I mean the buildings
were all finished, but the paths weren't in and oh, it was
muddy !
You were discovering familiar faces among the people?
Oh, yes. I knew several people very well. I knew a Mrs.
Reese very well, who's a friend of mine, and Alice Porterfield
and Sue Love who were both at Cal before my day. I had a
couple of friends from Saratoga who came in at the sane tine
1 did and a couple of old friends that came in later. So it
wasn't a new venture completely. The part of it that I loved
was the fact of getting acquainted with so many people my own
age and my own walk of life really. They were just not
wealthy but they were not poor. Of course, now you have to
be wealthy to come in. [Laughter]
It's gone up so?
Oh my, it's gone up in price. When I came in, this place was
$16,000, this two-room, and now it's $32,000.
When you said you applied, was there a committee who decided
who could and who couldn't come in?
Oh yes, you had to make out an application and you had to have
recommendations. For instance, I had one from my minister and
my doctor and a couple of other people who recommended me. It
was kind of a thing to do to become a member here. Well, they
still have to go through quite a little bit. You have to have
a medical exam before you come in so they know you're perfectly
safe for awhile to come.
I'm curious about how much focus there is on the problems of
illness and aging and so on among the residents? Is that a
topic of conversation?
50
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Riess:
Stewart:
Oh, no, no, and when there's a death, there's just a little
notice in The Sequoia which is our magazine which simply
says, "In memoriam, So-and-So." Of course people have died,
quite a lot of them, because a lot of them were, well — of
course, now they're limiting it so you can't come in after
you're 75, but before that there wasn't any age limit so some
people came in here fairly old when they came in. But there
is a health center here and they do a very fine job, and the
nurses come around and you can have food in your room, and
when you're sick they have tray service. All in all, they
take awfully good care of you.
There's very little talk about ailments. I know the other
day I met another woman in the hall over there. She said,
"Hello, Jessie."
I said, "Hello, how are you?"
She said, "Do you really want to know?" and I said, "No!"
and we both laughed and went on our way. [Laughter]
You say, "How are you?" so easily. "Do you really want
to know? I could give you an organ recital if you wanted it!"
It seems a very independent life. It could be lonely.
Well, it isn't though because you have activities. There's
square dancing every Wednesday night; they have a caller and
sometimes they have eight squares. They have current events
on Wednesday mornings ; a man comes from the school and we pay
for that lecture. Then they have Friday night entertainment
and they have Monday night bingo, so consequently if you wanted
to you could be busy all the time.
There are eighteen buildings here and one hostess in each
building and when a newcomer comes in they generally go to
meals with them for a time or two and show them what to do and
how to go about wrapping your garbage and things like that.
They have it all organized.
They have a council here of twelve people.
Did you get involved with that?
I was president one year. [Chuckles] I didn't want to be.
The president died and I took over for the rest of his year,
which was only two months, and then I made a little speech
and I said, "Now, I want it definitely understood that I an
.
51
Stewart:
Riess:
not to go on another year. I did this, and I filled in for
Wes, and I was glad to do it. But I don't want to go on."
So when they took the vote there were eleven for me,
and one for somebody that I voted for. [Laughter] They
just thought it was a good thing and they'd keep me on
instead of trying to change in the middle of the stream.
And because the tape is about to end, this seems like a good
stopping-place. Thank you very much, Mrs. Stewart.
Transcriber: Michelle Stafford
Final Typist: Leslie Goodman-Malamuth
52
I
a
6
1
E 3
o
APPENDICES
A. James W. Harris, The Cable Car Reaches Maturity,
from Edgar M. Kahn, Cable Car Days in San Francisco.
B. Jessie Harris Stewart Interview, from The Prytaneans .
an Oral History of The Prytanean Society. Its Members
and Their University 1901-1920.
53
CHAPTER IX
JAMES W. HARRIS
THE CABLE CAR REACHES MATURITY
STANDS on die southwest corner of California
and Hyde streets a two-story, out-of-date, wooden build
ing. The old-fashioned bay windows command an excellent
view of the busy intersection. From the basement rises the
monotonous hum of drive shafts, wheels, and motors. From
the slots in the middle of Hyde and California streets emanates
the song of the cables, suggesting the pulse beat of a metrop
olis. This building, which was reconstructed after the fire, is
divided into two parts. The wooden portion houses the Cali
fornia Street Cable Railroad Company's executive offices. The
brick structure houses its cars and the power plant for its cables.
The interior of the building has remained virtually unchanged
since 1906. Groups of blue-uniformed conductors and gripmen,
waiting to relieve platform men on duty, are often found stand
ing around the entrance.
On the second floor one finds a dark office on the door of
xoi
from Edgar M. Kahn, Cable Car Days in San Francisco.
Stanford University Press, 1944.
Cable Car Days in San Francisco
which is inscribed the word "President." Here, facing the win
dow, sits an aging man. When one approaches him he has
probably just completed the sale of a book of school tickets and
is waving a bewildered child out of the office. A sparkle is in
his eyes and a kindly smile plays about his lips as he remarks:
"The selling of weekly tickets to school kids is one of the func
tions of the president of this company."
From his out-of-date desk with its crowded pigeonholes and
with papers relating to pending business piled on its top, Presi
dent Harris is able to look down on the cable crossing, from
which, for over half a century, the cars have kept moving over
the hills. He is the one man who, because of his close connec
tion with the company since its inception, is in an excellent posi
tion to discuss its history. He is probably the only living man
who has been affiliated uninterruptedly for sixty years with the
same streetcar company.
Harris tells the following story:
I was born at Pictou, Nova Scotia, on December 28, 1854. There
were nine children in our family. I left my place of birth for die United
States when I was seventeen years old, worked for a while in Massa
chusetts, Rhode Island, Illinois, and then moved on to California, the
land of unlimited opportunities.
The train took eleven days to cross the continent. The trip over the
prairies, at twenty-five miles an hour, was rough, dusty and monoto
nous. George Pullman's new palaces on wheels were operating in the
East, but only day coaches were supplied to Western travel. At night
I would adjust the seat in an attempt to secure some comfort and sleep.
A considerable part of the food I needed on the journey I took with
me. A stove in the car was used to prepare some simple dishes and
to make coffee. There were frequent shifts along the line, as there
were several independent railroads interconnecting; engines had to be
changed, and delays were the rule rather than the exception.
Somewhere in Utah our progress was blocked by a landslide. The
conductor informed us that k would be days before a train could pass.
I had the alternative of either returning with the train to the last sta
tion or walking ahead three miles to where the conductor could tele-
IO2
55
James W.Harris
graph for an "extra" to take us on. I decided to walk ahead, and shall
never forget that adventure. The rain poured down pitilessly, and fit
ful gusts of wind drove sheets of water into our faces. Our feet sank
deep into the mud, and we had to push through brush and wade shallow
streams before we finally arrived at the next depot, which was nothing
but a slab shanty. The only sign of life was a scraggy, half-drowned
chicken wandering aimlessly about After a while a woman appeared
wearing a calico bonnet and holding her scanty skirts. She was will
ing enough to make us comfortable; but not a mouthful of anything
in the way of food, not even a cracker, was to be had, and we saw the
dinner hour come and go, in a state of melancholy depression. After six
hours of waiting an "extra" arrived and we resumed our journey. The
eager discussion of this last adventure drew us closer together, leading
to a pleasant companionship among the passengers, who turned out to
be quite a congenial lot. I was then about twenty years old, but looked
rather mature for my age. Of course I was a total stranger in the West,
and while I had a sister living in San Francisco I did not even know her
address.
As we ncared our destination, a fellow came through the train offer
ing information and assistance. He introduced himself as a Wells Fargo
agent, and he looked the part— tall, strong, and of the true Western
type. Prefacing his statements with the remark that he was not allowed
to do any soliciting, he emphatically recommended the American Ex
change as the best place at which to put up. Whether Wells Fargo and
Company had an interest in that particular hostelry or the hotel gave
the agent a commission for drumming up business, I never knew nor
cared. Those were the days when the hotels had their horse carriages
at the Broadway Depot and the driver with the loudest voice had the
best chance at the business.
My first impression of San Francisco was favorable, and I remem
ber quite distinctly saying to a young fellow who traveled with me:
"Here is where I am going to stay." And I made a resolution then and
there to make good in this promising community.
San Francisco was a young city; everything looked new; every
body seemed to have something to do-^ife was free. The town was
renowned for men of wealth and accomplishment and for its beauti
ful women. It was the westernmost outpost of civilization, and the
heart of the West.
My interest in cable cars began when I first saw a little vehicle
tugging its way up the Clay Street hill without being pushed or pulled
103
56
Western terminus Sutler Street branch, United Railroad, 1900
Market Street Railway Company mail car, 1888
57
James W. Harris
by any visible mechanism. I shall never forget the thrill of seeing the
car moving along without any engine or horse propelling it
I had hardly any money left, but easily secured my first job, which
paid me a few dollars a day. For eighteen months I was employed at
a quicksilver mine in Lake County, at an unattractive, barren, God
forsaken place. When the carpentry work for which I was hired was
completed, I was overjoyed to return to San Francisco and determined
to be more discriminating in the future as to the jobs I would accept
My next employment was with James B. Haggin and Lloyd Tevis
in Kern County on a 90,ooo-acre ranch. While working there I made
one of my periodic trips to make purchases at a grocery store in one of
the communities near by. There I was confronted with the spectacle of
five Mexicans being hanged in a courtyard. I shall never forget that
gruesome sight. Their offense was horse stealing, which had become
so commonplace that law-abiding men had to take justice in their
own hands.
A short time later I heard of a job and was advised to call regarding
it on Henry Root in the three-story brick building on the corner of
Fourth and Townsend streets. This building housed the offices of the
Central Pacific Railroad Company. Henry Root was connected with
the Pacific Improvement Company, a construction subsidiary of the
Central Pacific. He engaged me as a carpenter with the California
Street Railroad at $2.50 a day. The Pacific Improvement Company
had constructed the cable system for Leland Stanford. I started to
work in April 1879, when the line was being extended from Fillmore
Street to Presidio Avenue. The date was approximately a year after the
company had begun operations. It was my duty to repair the cars. I
soon became shop foreman and later master mechanic. In 1889 I had
charge of the extension work along Hyde, Jones, and OTarrell streets
and also of the extension from Kearny to Drumm Street, where S. H.
Holmes was employed as engineer. In 1909 I became vice-president
and general manager and was given a place on the Board of Directors.
Upon the death of J. Henry Meyer in 1922 I was elected to succeed
him as president and also retained my former tide of General
Manager.
Previous to my taking charge of the road, our cables were pur
chased from various companies, including Roebling's and some English
and German concerns. I came to the conclusion that it would be
more satisfactory to have the cables made locally, although the price
I05
58
Cable Car Days in San Francisco
might be somewhat higher. The California Wire Works, with whom
Hallidie was connected, was in a position to meet our needs.
In the early days of the California Street Cable Railroad Company,
I became acquainted with Governor Leland Stanford, whom, of course,
I had known by reputation. I can remember his silk hat, his gold
cane, his long-tailed coat, low vest, black tie, and turned-down collar.
He was a large burly man with a ruddy complexion, and his gray-blue
eyes were deep-set. He spoke with a low and melodious voice. He
enjoyed a high degree of popularity, which was well deserved because
of his vigorous and resourceful character. On the street when they met
the "old man," all who knew him would take off their hats, and the
Governor would courteously return the salutation. He was credited
with being the father of the Republican Party in California. Before
coming to the Coast, he practiced law in Wisconsin and this qualifica
tion and experience was of great value to him in many ways in his
subsequent career. It is a mistaken idea that Leland Stanford's influ
ence rested wholly on his wealth. He was a born leader and made his
influence felt in every community where he lived. The private life of
this pioneer was simplicity itself. He was slow spoken, direct and
earnest in conversation, and religious at heart. His educational ideals
were inspired by a conception of teaching and training for usefulness
in life. '
One of the best stories I heard Leland Stanford tell was during the
gay 'nineties when gentlemen wore expensive diamond and pearl studs
in their shirt fronts. In later days, the diamond studs were worn only
by gamblers and saloon men. When Charles Crocker returned from
his European trip, he showed his friends his pearl studs bought in Paris.
He was proud of them and showed them to the Governor.
"Rather expensive?" asked Stanford.
"Yes, but I like them," replied Crocker.
Next day when the two met at a directors' meeting, the Governor
asked Crocker to see him for a moment.
"Charlie, what do you think of my pearl studs ?" asked Stanford.
"My golly! they arc beautiful. Really, they are better than mine.
Where did you get them?"
"Oh, well, I bought them in San Francisco."
"Rather expensive?"
The Governor chuckled: "Charlie, I discovered them in a store on
Market Street. I gave the man three dollars for them."
106
59
James W. Harris
I recall another prank played by Stanford of which Crocker was
the target In those days these two bosom friends would drive their
fast horses through Golden Gate Park with such speed that one day
a park policeman lost his patience and stopped Stanford to remonstrate
with him. The Governor was always suave and pleasant.
"Officer, you are right," he said; "but don't stop me this time.
Charles Crocker is right behind me going just as fast as myself, pinch
him instead of me."
Whereupon, with a smile, he lightly tapped his animal with the
reins and the horse raced away. Look ing back he saw that Crocker had
been stopped by the same policeman, as had been suggested.
The earthquake marked the passing of the time-honored institu
tion of the livery stable, which was in some respects the prototype of
today's garage. A good part of the livery stable's income was derived
from the Sunday buggy rides through Golden Gate Park to the Cliff
House. When the horses were returned on Sunday night, the stable-
keeper never failed to make the same comment: "You've druv this
boss purty hard, young man." In those days it required no license to
drive a horse, and almost every male knew how to handle the ribbons.
Patient Dobbin in his time served his task faithfully, and today when
one sees a "nag" carrying on instead of being in the pasture to enjoy
his few remaining years, one might be reminded of those bygone days
when the prominent Nob Hill dwellers considered it important to
maintain their own stables.
From this bay window overlooking California Street I have ob
served the different ways women use to stop the cable cars. Their
attitudes and facial expressions are characteristic and seem to offer a
clue to their individuality. Por example, there is a severe, long-faced,
old-maid type. She raises her arm almost as soon as she can distinguish
the figure of a gripman and with her forefinger takes deadly aim at
his eyes. The workings of her mind are written all over her face. Her
countenance speaks, saying, "Pass me at your peril." The fear that a
car may not stop is latent in the majority of women's minds. This
accounts for their extraordinary earnestness and energy in halting it.
They frequently overlook the fact that the management has a service
to perform and depends upon its patrons' fares to pay wages. Some
women gesticulate with both arms, much as if they were signaling a
locomotive to prevent an accident. Anxiety is registered all over their
faces. When the car stops they probably feel convinced that a single
I07
6o
GRIP
LttCO OHOlilCASlERR
BUILT m 1878
I
James W. Harris, with cable-car grips
ETKT
Market Street Railway Company, Powell and Market streets, 1943
61
James W. Harris
gesture less on their part would have failed to bring it to a halt. The
fact that the gripman is employed for the purpose to stop for passen
gers, and is particularly instructed to do so, apparently does not enter
their minds. Very often young and pretty women who have faith in
die power of their personal appeal merely incline their heads grace
fully toward the gripman, certain that he and all the world are eager
to serve them. There is also the humble woman, with her baskets and
bundles. She knows by reason of her parcels that she will be unwel
come to passengers and conductor, and the knowledge makes her shy
or defiant in proportion to the sweetness or bitterness of her nature.
During the years that I have been connected with the company I
have trained myself to give careful attention to the details of my work.
As a mechanic in the company's shop I gathered a great deal of expe
rience which later proved valuable to me as superintendent. Many
and varied were the episodes I witnessed.
One of them, which I particularly like to relate, happened one
morning in connection with my difficulty in opening the office safe.
I was compelled to send for an expert locksmith. He came and tried
the combination, but for some reason it did not release the bolts of the
lock. He listened to the sounds made in turning the dial, and as he
could not get satisfactorily by ear the sounds that he wanted, he placed
one end of a straight-grained piece of wood between his teeth and
rested the other end on the rim of a disk containing the dial. By this
means the sounds were conducted to his brain, enabling him to make
the mechanism click; and, presto, the lock yielded and the safe was
opened. The operation took about twenty minutes. I asked him what
his charge was, and he told me it amounted to fifteen dollars.
I pointed out that it took him only twenty minutes to do the work
and that forty minutes would cover the time of the absence from his
shop and insisted that he render me an itemized bill. The safe-opener
complied with my request, and this was his bill:
Cable carfare to and from shop $ .10
Time absent— 40 minutes 1.00
Knowing how 13.90
$15.00
I appreciated the force of logic contained in the last item and paid
the bill without further comment.
109
62
Cable Car Days in San Francisco
I have always enjoyed good relations with our platform men. For
the past fifty-two years I have conscientiously endeavored to be fair in
my dealings with them and helpful to our employees whenever I could.
Perhaps1 the confidence the men had in me was a contributing factor
inducing the Market Street Railway people to make me an offer to
work for them. That was in 1902, when Charles Holbrook was presi
dent. Their strike had just been settled, and the management wanted
me as superintendent. The offer did not attract me because I was satis
fied where I was. In 1913 I was invited by Supervisors Vogelsang and
Hayden to accept the superintendency of the Municipal Railway. Al
though I had the assurance of the fullest confidence of Mayor James
Rolph, Jr., the Board of Supervisors, and the Department of Public
Works, I could not persuade myself to make a change. The California
Street Cable Railroad Company was my pet, and no other system could
have the same appeal.
I remember the consolidation of the principal railways of the city
in 1893. At that time it appeared as if too much capital stock had been
issued for the various lines. The Market Street Railway people received
$13,500,000 in shares for their system, the Omnibus Company $3,000,000
for their property, and the Ferries and Cliff House owners $1,500,000
for their franchise, rolling stock, and real estate. With that amalgama
tion, the Market Street Cable Company, Market and Fairmont, Park
and Ocean, Potrero and Bayview, Southern Heights and Visitacion
Valley, City Railway Company, Central Railway Company, Omnibus
Railway, North Beach and Mission, and Ferries and Cliff House systems
ceased to exist. In 1902 die United Railroads took over the operation of
die Market Street, Sutler, Sutro, and San Mateo Lines.
In 1907 die Market Street Railway Company, under the presidency
of Patrick Calhoun, acquired one thousand shares of the California
Street Cable Company's capital stock. The shares were purchased from
die Fireman's Fund Insurance Company, with die intention of eliminat
ing farther competition. These plans were changed subsequently and
the investment was liquidated in 1917. This abandonment was ill-
advised, when one considers die excellent earnings of die California
Street Cable Railroad Company through die years. The record of die
profits under Stanford's stewardship is not available, but it is a known
fact that the investment was a lucrative one. Up to 1940 die company had
paid approximately six hundred dollars a share in dividends upon die
original per share investment of sixty dollars. In addition, the earnings
no
63
James W. Harris
were sufficient to replace the rails in 1908, to retire $960,000 of the First
Mortgage Six Per Cent Bonds which were issued to finance the con
struction of the Hyde Street Line, to build a new power plant, and to
defray the cost of the extension from Kearny Street to Drumm Street —
all this on the basis of the five-cent fare which was instituted over sixty-
five years ago. The policy of the company is to maintain this five-cent
fare upon the twelve miles of track it now operates, in spite of the fact
that seven and one-half cents is die average prevailing rate throughout
the United States.
Furthermore, the properties, as carried on the books, have been
written down to the maximum extent allowed by the California Rail
road Commission and a high-grade investment portfolio has been ac
cumulated through the years, available as a reserve against losses due
to accidents and other unforeseen contingencies.
One must not overlook the rapid changes that are taking place in
mass transportation. The recent improvement in streamlined trolley
cars, die developments in die field of diesel power and super busses have
been noteworthy. I hesitate to prophesy what the future holds for die
remaining cable-car lines in San Francisco. The history of this com
pany has been so closely interwoven with die growth of this city that
its future arouses considerable interest with sentimental-minded citizens.
Mr. Harris finished. A satisfied smile conveyed the thought
that he had nothing further to say. His eyes seemed to moisten
a trifle as he turned in his chair and resumed reading the corre
spondence awaiting his attention.
Ill
,J
6U
CLASS OF 19U
Jessie Harris Stewart
Interviewer: Margaret Marshall
Date: April, 1969
Portola Valley, California
Int.: I'm Margaret Marshall, class of 1955, and I have four
lovely alumnae of Prytanean from the Berkeley campus here at The
Sequoias today. We have Alice Porterfield, class of 1908 (q.v.);
Jessie Harris Stewart, class of 19K; Josephine Miller Powell, class
of 1916 (aii.)j and Leila Berry Thornburg, class of 1917 (q.v.).
Mrs. Stewart, what do you remember about how you became a
Prytanean?
JHS; Well, I was Just searching my mind, and I don't under
stand how I ever made Prytanean because I can't remember anything
I did in my junior year. I was a little bit more prominent in BQT
senior year [laugh]. I was in the YWCA and just general roustabout
around the campus. But in pinpointing it to any one thing, I don't
know; I don't think I deserved to be in it.
Int.; What did you do the night that you were initiated into
Prytanean?
JHS; Well, I was rushing chairman at our house that night,
and they were having a big dinner party and I was helping in the
kitchen. And I dumped a whole can of cayenne pepper in the salad
[laughing], which was a terrific thing and set me off in a very
queer mood for the Prytanean initiation because I was exhausted and
completely upset. So I got the giggles during the initiation, which
is a beautiful initiation, and I was mightily ashamed of myself
[laughing] .
Int. : What influence did your experiences at Cal, including
Prytanean, have on your later life?
JHS; I don't know that Prytanean did any more for me than
any fine organization would have in making me have some ideals that
I didn't have before. Because as I look back on that initiation and
listened to it many times afterwards (after I'd gotten over the
giggles), I realized that it was a very beautiful ceremony and that
it couldn't help but make us better people for it. But I don't know
that it ever exerted any influence on my life in the world, aside
from making me better, maybe.
Int.: I think that's important! What have you done since you
graduated?
JHS: I married a Standard Oil man, as Leila [Berry Thornburg]
did, but we stayed in this country. Most of our married life was
spent on the East coast. I was in Boston and Rhode Island and
Washington, D. C.
U3T; How many times did you move?
JHS; We moved about 23 times [laughing] in the time that we
were married. But I managed to do little things in the town that
I'd be in, like work on YWCA and Girl Scouts and take turns along
with my children and do church work.
Int. t Those are all important things anyway.
JHS; That's right.
Int. : Back to the campus, would you like to comment on the
relationship between Prytanean and Torch and Shield? Alice Porter-
field said that Torch and Shield was forced in 1908 to help the first
Dean of Women, and it was characterized by extreme secrecy.
JHS; Some of the girls resented it, because all year long you
were right with these girls and they were not members and you were.
Int. : Right. And you were aware of everything that was going
on. That was its purpose really; our membership was composed of
people from several different activities on the campus.
JHS; I always felt that it wouldn't have hurt for them never
to have known. Really, from the point of view of doing some good and
making no enemies, it would have been better if we could have left
college not having anybody know we'd ever been in that small group.
If we were wanting to serve the University and serve the Dean, it
wasn't necessary to wear our rings at Commencement time.
Int. : No. Well, actually we wore our rings the whole senior
year. They knew who we were, but they didn't know what our purposes
were. Mortar Board had an investigation of all women's groups on the
campus and wondered who they all were and wanted to know what Torch
and Shield was. Our group got together and wrote a poem. I forget
the details except that the end of it was "Are we in heaven, are we
in hell? You'll never find out, and we'll never tell!" [All laugh.]
JHS; But you see in our year, and I don't know how long it
lasted, we didn't wear our rings until Commencement, and that created
a great deal of bad feeling among the other women who really were as
eligible as we were.
Int.; It's just a very small group, and it's hard to include
everyone .
JHS: I think it's better to wear the ring all year.
66
Int.; Yes, everyone knew who we were. Now are there any
things that you can remember especially that are real highlights of
your four years at the University?
JHS: Well, I remember one thing. During my senior year in
19H, the Campanile was completed. And I was one of the speakers
when it was dedicated. And our names went in the cornerstone, you
know.
Int.: Your name is there now then!
JHS: Yes, it's gone into the box that went into the corner
stone. That was a real event in our lives, when the Campanile was
built.
Int . ; That's interesting. Do you remember what you said?
JHS: Oh, no! Some time I could show you a picture of what I
wore, the most terrible-looking suit that came to the ground. It
was a blue suit, and I had a hat that looked like a coal scuttle.
I was very well-dressed, in 1914 style.
Int. : What did you wear for just every day to campus? This
is something that students now might be interested in.
LBT: Middy blouses!
JHS; These Peter Pan sailor navy blue suits with the cuffs.
And we also wore skirts and sweaters.
JMP: I can't remember anything except the middy blouses.
AWP; We had a man tailor in San Francisco who made the suits.
JHS; We bought ours at Hastings. But remember the little
old gentleman down on the waterfront named Joe Harris who sold niddy
blouses? We used to get them there. That was my [maiden] name, and
I was always getting kidded about my father who sold the middy
blouses [laughs].
Int. : What do you remember most about the Earthquake and Fire
of 1906, Mrs. Stewart?
JHS; The most vivid memory I have of the whole thing is dash
ing to my family's front window on California Street and seeing one
of the two complete steeples of St. Dominic's Church coae crashing
down. It just skimmed right off the roof. It was four or five
blocks away but we had a very good view of it from our upper windows.
And I just got there in time to see the thing go whoosh, like that.
Int. ; Would you like to add to the recollections of Mrs.
Hearst?
(SIW.
67
JHS: Yes, I would. During my senior year in college, the son
of her secretary was graduating. No one really had known the boy,
but she knew him and she was very fond of her secretary. She invited
our whole class to Pleasanton for the whole day, on a special train
from Oakland, and we went down there. He was the honored guest. She
was a wonderful person.
Int. : What about President Wheeler?
JHS; Our house was on Arch Street then. I'd come out for, I
think it was a 9 o'clock class, and bump into him coming down the
steps, and we'd walk across the campus many a morning. I remember
one morning I had a sweater on, and he reached over and he pinched
it sort of and he said, "Is that silk?" And I said, "No, that's not
silk; that's cotton." "I'm glad of it. There's too much silk around
this campus!" He was all for the simple life [laughing].
Int. : What do you remember about the Partheneia?
LBT- It was pretty!
JMP- It was a money-making affair.
Int. : Did everybody come?
JMF: They hoped to have them all. I don't know how much
money they made.
Int. : Did you have it in Faculty Glade?
JHS; No, not Faculty Glade. The first ones were held down
there as you come in from what is now Oxford Street. There was a
lovely glade. I suppose it's gone now, but that was where the first
ones were.
JMP ; Near the Life Sciences Building.
JHS; All those are built up now, but there was a lovely glade
in there, and that was where the first one was held.
Int. : Have you been back on the campus in recent years?
JHS; I have, not too long ago. My niece drove me around.
We drove our children around one time when we were out here from the
East. We couldn't find a way to get out, and ny son tactfully said,
"Father, did you say you got out of this school?" [Laughs] We'd
come on a barricade every time we'd try to get through.
Int. : The campus has changed a lot; a lot more buildings than
there were. What did you do for recreation mostly?
68
JHS: I think the same everybody else does now. We had dances
and house parties.
JMP; Recreation was all centered around the house, as far as
I can remember.
JHS; I remember we had a very nice time!
69
INDEX
Jessie H. Stevart
American Bitumuls Co., 28, 29
automobile, 14, 41
Barrows, David Prescott, 40, 41
Bird, Grace V., 46, 47
Brandenstein, Hilda, 20, 24
California Street Cable Car Co., 2, 3, 7, 9, 10, 13-18
Chinese in San Francisco, 18, 19
Cliff House, 7
Coleman, John C., 2, 15
Delta Delta Delta Sorority, 33-35, 37-40, 44
earthquake and fire, San Francisco, 7, 9-13, 20, 21, 24
Fairmont Hotel, 7
Fleishhacker , Mortimer, 26
Force, John Neverson, 37
Girls High School, San Francisco, 20, 21
Golden Gate Park, 23, 24
Grunsky, Clotilde, 47
Halstead's Funeral Home, 9
Harris, Lucy Murdock, 3, 4, 7, 8, 12, 13, 18-24, 27, 29, 36
Harris, James T. , 1-3, 7-18, 26, 27, 29
Harris, Martha, 2, 4, 7-9, 12, 21, 31
Irving Institute, San Francisco, 4
Japanese in San Francisco, 18, 19
Lowell High School, San Francisco, 4-6, 20, 21, 34, 42, 43
Magee, Professor and Mrs. Walter E. , 30
Murdock, Grandfather, 3, 4, 8
.
O'Brien, A. P., 8, 36
Oddfellows, 10, 11
Panama Pacific International Exposition, 24, 25
Rieber, Winifred, 32, 33
The Sequoias, Portola Valley, 48-51
Sherman, Lily Margaret, 42
Standard Oil, 28
Stebbins, Lucy Ward, 33
70
Stewart, Charles, 2, 9, 26-29
Stewart, James, 27-29, 48
Sutherland, Marjorie Mclntosh, 46
Taylor, Edward Robeson, 14
Tri Delts. See Delta Delta Delta
Suzanne Bassett Riess
Grew up in Bucks County, Pennsylvania.
Graduated from Goucher College, B.A. in
English, 1957.
Post-graduate work, University of London
and the University of California, Berkeley,
in English and history of art.
Feature writing and assistant woman's page
editor, Globe-Times . Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.
Free-lance writing and editing in Berkeley.
Volunteer work on starting a new Berkeley
newspaper .
Natural science decent at the Oakland Museum.
Editor in the Regional Oral History Office
since I960, interviewing in the fields of
art, cultural history, environmental design,
photography, Berkeley and University history.
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