Category Archives: History

[NOTE: This piece was ported over from a much-older website, and some of the formatting and photo sizes aren’t presented as originally intended. As soon as I hire a quality control staff, these errors will be corrected.]

At long last, the conclusion of this little historical photo essay. Some of the pictures I originally took last summer to illustrate “Marysville Now” are already edging out of date! If you have a moment (and if you’re already reading this, I suspect you have several) catch up with Part One, Part Two, and Part Three. Here we go…

The Marysville Water Company had enormously thick walls on its first floor to support the reservoir on its roof.

The old water company building is now home to Marysville Music on its first floor, but its second floor is vacant, and its third floor is a roofless shell.

Man alive, who doesn’t love a good piece of candy? Well, me for one. I prefer a saltier snack — your potato chip, your pretzel, your cashew or other fancy nut. With my lack of willpower as regards snacks, this preference is probably the only reason I have a tooth left in my head. However, other people’s love of candy has made the Candy Box/Little Farmhouse confectionary store a Marysville landmark. Continue reading →

[NOTE: This piece was ported over from a much-older website, and some of the formatting and photo sizes aren’t presented as originally intended. As soon as I hire a quality control staff, these errors will be corrected.]

Welcome back to this little historical photo essay after a long delay. I was originally hoping to complete this series with one more entry, but there is enough material to pad it out to two more. If you haven’t read them yet, click for Part One and Part Two of this series. Onward…

As stated earlier, D Street was once the real main street of Marysville, and E Street (above) was a semi-industrial secondary road. The cars here make are making a big turn to the east and the approach to the now-demolished D Street Bridge. At right, the triangular top of the Hart Building and dark-brick edge of the Hotel Marysville can be seen peeking from behind the white Masonic Lodge building (burned down in 1956.)

E Street is now part of Highway 70, and the main route in and out of town. The Hart Building and Hotel Marysville are now visible, but Cal’s Square Gardens roller rink has been replaced by Mervyn’s. Continue reading →

[NOTE: This piece was ported over from a much-older website, and some of the formatting and photo sizes aren’t presented as originally intended. As soon as I hire a quality control staff, these errors will be corrected.]

Okay, all informed and/or refreshed on Marysville’s rather snake-bit history after reading Part One? Splendid. On we go.

Up until 1956, if you were coming into Marysville from Sacramento or other parts south, you crossed the Yuba River and entered town via the D Street Bridge. D Street was essentially Marysville’s “Main Street.” E Street and its associated bridge, which brings in squirrel-crushingly copious amounts of traffic nowadays due to it being part of the I-70 corridor, was back then still a secondary street, populated mostly by warehouses and light industrial buildings (and, after 1927, the Marysville Hotel and the State Theater.)

D Street once was where all the action was, and like many small-town Main Streets, it has seen better days. Once the new E Street freeway bridge was opened (the D Street Bridge was fatally weakened in the 1955 Christmas floods and dismantled), D Street pretty much shriveled on the vine. Oh, there are still signs scattered around boasting about “Historic Downtown Marysville” and there are a tiny handful of preserved buildings, but unless you want a boutique gift or discount office furniture or to be unsettled by the eerily mellow hippies that run the used bookstore (excuse me, “literary arts center”), “Historic Downtown Marysville” doesn’t have much to offer the average person anymore.

One of Marysville’s most famous bits of history is the Bok Kai Temple, built by the local Chinese community in 1880 and the only one of its kind in the United States. It’s located at the foot of D Street, but faces away from the street toward the river – or rather, it was built facing the river, now it faces a blunt levee wall.

The temple itself seen from the levee, recently re-painted and spruced up, is behind a locked gate to keep Marysville’s less-upstanding citizens from urinating in it, but to it’s right (or left, I guess, as it was built facing the “wrong” way) is a rather picturesque pavilion and small park open to the public.

The M&M Trading Company building (“The Building That Melts In Your Mouth, Not In Your Hands”), was on the east side of the D Street Bridge, once the main entry into Marysville. The M&M building itself dates from the 1800s, and has been put to a myriad of uses.

The M&M has now changed into the Silver Dollar Saloon, whose website boasts that its second floor used to be a brothel in the 1800s. (A couple of other websites say it remained in that capacity until the 1970s, and I have reason to suspect it remains so in the 2000s, but that’s a story for another day.) The bridge entry is now the aforementioned Bok Kai pavilion and park.

On the west side of D Street was the W.J. Brown Furniture Store, and just visible behind is the intersection that took drivers to and from the more industrialized E Street a block to the west.

This area is now a continuation of the Bok Kai park, and is usually pristine and peaceful, even though it’s just a few steps away from the very busy E Street bridge/freeway combo. Occasionally, some of Marysville’s more “colorful” characters, or transients passing through, will be spotted lounging under the shade trees here, but they usually move on quickly, leaving the place once again to the birds and squirrels.

The view from the bridge as you came into town.

The view is now obliterated by foliage and the Bok Kai pavilion. Not that there’s much to see anymore, anyway.

Another view from the bridge.

And another view of the trees that replaced it. Where Studebakers and Hudson Hornets once rolled into town, lizards now scamper in the underbrush, and a set of cement steps leads you to the Bok Kai temple gate, and beyond them, a set of rickety wooden steps leads you still further to the top of the levee. If you turn around from where I’m standing to take the above picture…

…you can see the remains of the D Street bridge supports still jutting from the Yuba River like a pair of rotting teeth.

D St. 1920s

1940s

By 1977, it was decided that D Street from 1^st to 3^rd Streets had become an eyesore, a flea-bitten collection of bars and flophouses, plus it had brought unwanted notoriety as a cruising ground for serial killer Juan Corona, so the whole two blocks had to go.

Much of it was replaced with a drab 70s-style strip mall called “Downtown Plaza” (hey, at least they had the name before Sacramento) on the east side of the street, and the Mervyn’s department store on the west side. Trees were planted, hobos and stewbums were (for the most part) rousted out, and everyone congratulated themselves on a job well done.

D Street between 1^st and 3^rd is now shadier (in the good sense), safer, cleaner – and pretty much abandoned. The Downtown Plaza sits half-unoccupied, and as we learned in the last entry, Mervyn’s sold its last bath towel in December 2008.

The tiny Lyric Theater once co-existed side-by-side with the Tower Theater. My dad got his tattoos somewhere around here in the 1950’s.

Unlike their replacement, the Downtown Plaza.

As the east side of D Street spiraled into debauchery, the west side clung to respectability, with businesses like Payless Drugs (not pictured, but after 1956 on the site of the Western Hotel), the Star Grill, Gallenkamp Shoes and United Jewelers still peddling their wares.

The Mervyn’s parking lot replaced them all.

What better place to hang out in the mid-20^th century than the Brunswick Billiard Parlor? A swell fella could grab a shave and a haircut (complete with a splash of bay rum and some Wildroot Cream-Oil), buy a Hav-A-Tampa, and pat a dog on the head, then shoot some stick, all in the company of other swell fellas, and without a lot of yip-yap from the skirts.

Well, I guess you can’t turn back the hands of time, and Mervyn’s needed a parking lot more than an average joe like me needed a place to hang out.

Oh, yes, I promised more fires.

Remember the Kelly Brothers’ Stables? The brothers could console themselves after the 1915 fire that destroyed it with the fact that their very successful undertaking business was still going strong.

Kelly Brothers Mortuary was located on the first floor of the Elk’s Lodge building on D Street.

Which burned down in the 1926 (taking the Atkins Theater with it.) I don’t really know what became of the Kelly Brothers after that. The site became a much smaller storefront business (left) and the entrance to the Tower Theater.

The northeast corner of 1^st and D seems to have been a theater site since the turn of the century. The Marysville Theater was first to occupy the area, built in 1907, and the site of many live stage performances.

The corner lot itself is now parking for the Tower Theater (see below).

Around the time it switched from live performances to a cinema screen in the early 1920s, the Marysville Theater changed its name to the Atkins Theater

The Atkins Theater is visible in the background of this picture of 1st and D on Rotary Day, when local business donated goods to charity.

The same corner as it appears today.

The Atkins Theater burned down along with the adjacent Elks Lodge building in 1926. It was replaced by the Liberty Theater shown here (the burnt-out frame of the Elks building is still visible in the background.)

The hastily-built Liberty was replaced with the much bigger Tower by the late 1930s. The L-shaped Tower has its entrance near the old Elks building site, but curves around and to the back, encircling the small area where the Atkins/Liberty stood.

The Tower Theater is, of course, no longer a movie theater, and hasn’t been for some time. But everyone’s a sucker for Art Deco, so the building was allowed to remain when the rest of lower D Street was wiped out. For a short while in the late 90s it hosted live music events (I went to a few). Now, somewhat restored and remodeled, it’s the headquarters for the Marysville chapter of the New Age-y Center for Spiritual Living, and private office space. Moving on to the other Marysville Theater…

The State Theater opened as the National Theater in 1927 on E Street, across 5^th from the Marysville Hotel, which opened at the same time. Its name went from “National” to “State” in 1938.

The State as it appears today, fifteen years after it showed its last movies in 1996.(The John Travolta vehicle Phenomenon, and the kids’ adventure flick Alaska, if you’re interested. The posters, which I put up, remained in their cases until 2003 or so, fading to almost pure white.)

Yes, I was the State’s assistant manager for its final year of operation (December 1995 – November 1996), so you can expect to hear a few State stories in This Used To Be My Playground. I like to claim credit for running the place into the ground, but it was clearly dying without my help. For the final month or so, it was a discount theater, all seats a dollar. The company that ran the place came up with a hideous mascot (“Buck The Chick”), and one of my final tasks as a State Theater employee was to put up those posters and marquee letters reading “Buck The Chick Says CHEAP CHEAP!” The axe deservedly fell a few days after that, before they got a chance to put someone in the baby-chick costume and have them prance around on the street corner.

The State’s new owners (a couple of shady Hungarians) are currently embroiled in the usual finger-pointing battle with the obstructionist Marysville City Council over taxes and fees and grandfather clauses. If it re-opens in any capacity within the next decade, you can knock me over with a feather from Buck The Chick.

There has been some confusion as to whether the State ever suffered a serious fire at any point in its history. Many are convinced it did, but my research has only turned up records of the Atkins theater fire, a few blocks away. The people & websites that say the State burned all date the fire to 1926 – when the Atkins burned. I think people are a little confused, compounded by the fact that late 1926 was when construction on the State began.

I’ll try to bring this whole thing to a conclusion in the next entry, and get back to the 90s playlist (which now seems to be stretching into next summer, thanks to my apathy and ability to become distrac…hey, Robot Chicken is on! Later.)

[NOTE: This piece was ported over from a much-older website, and some of the formatting and photo sizes aren’t presented as originally intended. As soon as I hire a quality control staff, these errors will be corrected.]

I certainly have no regrets about leaving Marysville – my home of two years – behind in favor of the relatively cosmopolitan Sacramento (insert snickers from San Franciscans here), but I do owe Marysville a little bit of respect for its history. It was already a bustling city when California gained statehood in 1850, although little remains to be seen of its original character. This is due primarily to two undisputable facts: 1) The pioneers and a couple of generations after them seemed unable to prevent themselves from burning things to the ground every few years. In Marysville, this tendency stuck around well into the 1950s, long after fire departments had been invented. Maybe it’s something in the water. 2) City planners in the 1960s and 70s seemed to get some kind of perverse kick out of replacing handsome, vintage buildings with buildings that looked like giant cinder-block shoeboxes. I understand that it’s sometimes too expensive to restore old buildings and they have to go, but it’s unfortunate so many of them went at a time when the Hideously Ugly school of architectural design was in vogue. (If you can find one example of a nice-looking building designed and built between 1961 and 1979, e-mail it to me and I’ll send you a prize.)

Anyway, most of you who know me personally know that I like history, and I particularly like to observe how things change, subtly or radically, over time. It’s why I chose to include the “This Used To Be…” series of photos in my 90’s Playlist series. I was also inspired by a series of books called Then & Now which juxtapose vintage pictures with those taken at the same place in modern times. I decided I could do the same thing based on the pictures in Images of America: Marysville by Tammy L. Hopkins and Henry Delamere. So I headed out with my camera and a copy of the book to document the changes that Marysville has gone through. It sometimes took some hardcore squinting at the old photos, and a little guesswork, but I think I matched things up okay. My photos don’t look too great for the simple reason that I’m a shitty photographer with cheap equipment, and also because occasionally time or guesswork failed me when I was on site in Marysville (I took a few shots of the wrong side of the street), so I used images captured from Google Street View instead.

So, with your patient indulgence, allow The Holy Bee of Ephesus to present MARYSVILLE: THEN & NOW.

First of all, a map to orient any of you unfamiliar with the town.

Most of the historic stuff we’ll be seeing is in the rectangular area bounded by E St. to the west, B St. to the east, Ellis Lake to the north, and 1st St. to the south. There are some exceptions, but that’s pretty much it. Over the Feather River to the west is Marysville’s “twin” city of Yuba City, which is much bigger and fancies itself more sophisticated. I lived off of 14th Street, on the north side of Ellis Lake (outside the map’s top boundary.)

Excuse me while I go into full historian mode for a moment (picture me lighting a pipe and brushing the lint off one of my suede elbow patches).

In 1842, California was still part of Mexico, albeit a part in which no one but American settlers had any interest in residing. The Mexican government gave huge land grants to anyone who could fog a mirror, and much of it ended up in the grip of California grand poobah and somewhat lunkheaded businessman John Sutter. Sutter leased some of his approximately one kajillion acres of northern California land to Prussian immigrant Theodor Cordua, who established an adobe trading post at the convergence of the Yuba and Feather Rivers. As the bemused Maidu Indians looked on, munching their acorn paste, Cordua presumably shouted something to them like “Hey, can you give me a hand with this crate?” and by 1849, all the slower Indians in the area were “employed” as laborers by Cordua and his business partners. The rest had understandably scattered. (The term “Yuba,” which was applied to the river and general surroundings came from either a small band or sub-tribe of these Native Americans, or a variation on the Spanish word for “grape” — uva. Take your pick.)

Cordua gave his settlement the name of “New Mecklenburg,” but his more sensible neighbors decided that was a blazingly stupid name, and took to calling it Cordua’s Ranch, or simply “The Plaza.” When the Gold Rush hit, it became an important way station for people traveling to the ore-rich Sierra Nevada foothills, which began a few miles to the east. A few of the bigger steamboats coming up from the Bay Area began making New Mecklenburg a stop. (The first steamboat to navigate the Yuba River was the Linda, whose name lives on in a scuzzy little meth town just south of Marysville.)

A watercolor of how “The Plaza” once looked

The general area of “The Plaza” nowadays, buried deep under the Yuba River levee I’m standing on to take the picture.

It was decided that the Silver Dollar Saloon on 1st St. (my favorite Marysville watering hole when I have to choose one – sheriff’s car optional), which backs up to the levee, is the presently standing structure that’s as near as possible to the old Cordua place, so that’s where they chose to stick the “New Mecklenburg” historical plaque.

Cordua sold off big chunks of his holdings to various speculators, but much of it went to a French immigrant named Charles Covillaud, who was rolling in profits from the early days of the Gold Rush. Everyone was making money hand over fist. (Except for the Chinese immigrants who poured into Marysville by the wagonful, and established a mini-Chinatown around 1st and C Streets. The Chinese referred to Marysville as “Sam Fow,” or “Third City” as it was the third city they came to after passing through San Francisco and Sacramento.) Covillaud then sold portions of his holdings to professional adventurers Jose Ramirez of Chile and John Sampson of Britain (by way of Chile) for another tidy profit. It was that kind of time. Frenzied buying, selling, subdividing. Entrepreneurs, soldiers-of-fortune, and various miscreants flocking in from everywhere, everything coated with a fine layer of gold dust. Craziness.

The portion of land Covillaud cannily kept for himself is what became the city of Marysville proper. He named it after his wife, Mary Murphy, who was a Donner Party survivor (and thus, a suspected cannibal, which never seems to get mentioned.) Much was made of this, though I don’t see why. In the mid-1800’s, if you survived one gruesome life-threatening event, another was waiting in line almost immediately. Sure enough, ol’ Mary checked out at age 36.

A woodcut depicting the earliest days of what was by now called “Marysville.” It could be depicting Professor Harelip Jenkins and His Magical Dancing Bananas for all I can see, as these fucking woodcuts are impossible to look at without getting a migraine. But, y’know, they’re historical and all, so they must be important.

There seemed to be no limit to what Marysville could accomplish. It was the seventh (or possibly eighth) incorporated city in the new state of California, and there was talk of it even becoming the state capital. Developers began selling it as the “New York of the Pacific.” Imposing brick structures replaced the adobe huts and canvas tents. Greatness was in their grasp.

Then the dumb bastards went and burned it all down within a year.

Upon rebuilding, the citizens of Marysville soon discovered that their settlement was just as susceptible to flooding as any other town in the central valley of California. Californians loved building permanent settlements on floodplains, because that’s where the best farming is. But listen to the word: floodplains. See what it does there? The word is its own definition. Floodplains have a tendency to flood. It’s not that the Hardy Pioneers weren’t aware of the situation, but they seemed not to care, relying on engineering (bypasses and levees) to solve the issue. Difficult as it is to envision now, the earliest descriptions of Marysville describe it as being situated on bluffs above the Yuba River, so at first it seemed like flooding wouldn’t be a problem at all. Marysvillians could enjoy a sense of smug superiority, being literally above it all.

Then the place started flooding anyway.

It gradually dawned on the smarter ones that hydraulic mining upriver was increasing the sediment load and, thus, raising the level of the riverbed. The bluffs were disappearing. In 1875, a team of engineers put together an intricate series of levees designed to protect the town and its precious commerce. When they finished up, wiped their brows and had a look around, they realized they had entirely hemmed in the city with levees. It would forever be confined to its 1875 borders.

Adding insult to injury, the increased sediment in the riverbed caused the big paddle-wheeled riverboats to be unable to navigate as far north as Marysville. Sacramento got all of its business. Marysville as a major shipping port with the potential to be the “New York of the Pacific” was no more. So, Marysville population circa 1853: about 10,000. Population circa 2009: just under 12,000. For most of its existence, Marysville has been a slightly bitter, kind of backward little town that had all of its hope to be something better snuffed out over 130 years ago.

OK, let’s make with the photos before I put you all to sleep…Click on the pics for a more close-up look.

A touch of Marysville’s original Wild West flavor can be seen in this photo of Kelly Brothers’ Stables on E Street

It burned down in 1915. (Note the man in the foreground being conspicuously unhelpful, for fear his snazzy straw boater might blow away.) The Kelly Brothers also ran an undertaking business on D Street.

As rootin’ and tootin’ as it tries to be, the Java Detour that today sits at the same location just doesn’t cut it.

Another glimpse of life on the frontier as we look south down C Street at the Golden Eagle Hotel.

The Golden Eagle’s interior.

Looking south down C Street at the grassy vacant lot (just beyond the cement traffic pillars) where the Golden Eagle once stood. I don’t know if it burned down, but I kind of suspect it did.

To be replaced with a coffee shop. (In the 1990’s, this was called “Mahler’s,” and you’ll be reading about it in an upcoming This Used To Be My Playground.)

Up until the 1950’s, the Del Pero’s California Market was the most modern and pristine supermarket to be found north of Sacramento, pioneering developments in portion control and freeze-drying, and employing a fleet of vehicles to make home deliveries. (If you squint, you can make out the slogan We’re Glad To Meat You on one of the trucks. If this is what passed for humor in the 1950s, you can tell why the world was ready for Lenny Bruce.)

Looking for it today? Uh-uh. Burned down. Evidently, a sausage-making machine went kerflooey on Christmas Day, 1956, and roasted the joint, taking the Masonic Lodge building next door with it for good measure. True story. Today it’s a Jimboy’s and its associated parking lot.

The Masonic Lodge that perished in the Great Christmas Sausage Fire of 1956.

The parking lot where the Masonic Lodge used to be.

The Western Hotel once stood at the corner of 2nd and D. In its early years of operation, it was a miracle of 19th-century hotel design, boasting the only elevator, steam heaters, and electricity in any hotel between Sacramento and Portland.

I guess I can’t technically say the Western “burned down,” but the inevitable fire caused enough damage that the building was demolished in 1956.

Today, the area where the Western Hotel once was is occupied by a bus stop and the tree-lined parking lot of Mervyn’s, which went out of business at the end of 2008. The large Mervyn’s building now sits empty, staring eerily out at the downtown business district it was meant to save.

Tired of fires? Okay.

Here’s the equally prestigious United States Hotel on 3rd and C Streets.

My otherwise reliable Marysville book states fancifully that “In 1867, while campaigning, Ulysses S. Grant stayed at the [U.S.] Hotel.” For one thing, Grant was still in the military in 1867, had his hands full dealing with Reconstruction, and never left D.C. For another, no self-respecting 19th-century presidential candidate would “campaign”(as we understand the term) a full year before the election, before receiving the nomination, and certainly not in the wilds of California. Grant did not even attend his own party’s convention in 1868. A little research and common sense is all it takes, people! Get it right if you’re going to put it in a book. (Blogs get more leeway.) If Grant stayed in the hotel (I’m not saying he didn’t), it was most certainly in the fall of 1879, when he was on his post-presidential world tour. He passed through California after crossing the Pacific from Yokohama. OK, lecture mode “off.”

Where the United States Hotel once stood is now the shady backside of the Yuba County Library.

Next to the U.S. Hotel was Marysville’s original City Hall and Fire Station.

Which leads us to a continued view of the ass-end of the Yuba County Library that now occupies the spot.

The parking lot of the Gold Country Bank has a historical marker to indicate the old court house’s location.

What about the “new” courthouse? Well, here’s a look at Cortez Square, a shady spot bordered by 5th & 6th Streets and B & C Streets, and site of the fifth California State Fair in 1858.

And its replacement – the eye-wateringly ugly “new” courthouse of 1962.

The post office building on C Street was built in 1934-39.

And little has changed. I mean, how much can you really do with a post office building?

The Packard Library across the street from the post office opened in 1906 as the first free library west of the Mississippi. (Most libraries charged a small membership fee back in those days.)

Some pretty nice old private residences still exist in the area west of E Street, but a lot of the ostentatious mansions of the city’s founders are gone.

The house of Mayor Norman Rideout once stood on 5th and E Streets. It was later converted to a hospital that bore his name.

The Marysville Hotel got less than a half-century of glory. It was derelict and abandoned long before I moved to the area as a child. Every once in awhile, there’s some big talk about refurbishing it into “luxury condominiums” or “prime office space,” but look at it, for chrissakes. No one’s ever going to do anything with it except put it out of its misery, and even that won’t come anytime soon.

This was the home of the Ellis family at 8th and D, who gave their name to the lake that lies a block to the north.

It is now the site of St. John’s Episcopal Church.

The Belcher family were prominent city attorneys instrumental in halting the destructive hydraulic mining on the Yuba River. Their home stood on C Street.

The “new” City Hall (dating from 1939) now occupies a space just to the north of where the Belcher house once stood.

As it happens, three of the oldest houses in Marysville are still standing.

The place still looks pretty much the same, though it’s in need of some restoration, and instead of looking out on Cortez Square, it now looks out at the new courthouse. Scroll up if you need a reminder of what that dungpile looks like.

Former adjutant general for the state of California and founder of the California National Guard, Edward Forbes lived in this house on D Street, built in 1854.

Until recently, the building served as the Historic Forbes House Restaurant, but now sits vacant.

Want more? I gots more. But let’s call it a day for now. I’ve been beavering away at this time-waster for (checks time) over five hours now. And that’s just the text. I’m committed to finishing this because I already spent last night scanning and sorting all the pictures.

Next entry coming soon. There’ll be more fires, I promise.