LITERATURE
Recollections of a Tule
Sailor
By John Leale with interpolations by Marion Leale
Published by George Fields, 1939
John
Leale was at the helm of San Francisco ferryboats for 41 years, from 1873 to
1914, the Golden Age of ferries on the Bay. He was in his prime as ferry service
reached its zenith in the late 1800’s and played an important role in the
relief effort after the Great Earthquake. He lived long enough to see the
opening of the Bay Bridge that would nearly destroy ferry service in the Bay
Area. His charming memoir, freighted with wit and wisdom, is a distilled
accounting of Leales’ 125,000 round-trip crossings of San Francisco Bay.
"Tule sailor" is a
disparaging epithet once applied to inland boatmen by blue water sailors. The
common great bulrush, tule, was more in evidence in the back country of the
Sacramento River in the past than it is today where miles and miles of river
land have been reclaimed. Then, the tules, with their long hollow reed-like
spikes, covered for miles the Sacramento River in its lower reaches. Leale
explains, "In the old days, when it was necessary to make a line fast on
shore to heave on, and there were no trees or brush to make fast to but only
tule were at hand, we used to take in a large armful of tule, and with a long
end take a round turn and hitch, then repeat the same with a stake driver to
which to make fast the end. You could then heave away until the line parted. I
might add that this is a "tule sailor" trick."
Arrival in San Francisco
We arrived at San Francisco
midnight of November fourth, 1864 and docked at Folsom Street Wharf. On landing
we took a bus to Third Street Wharf; from there a whitehall boatman rowed us
over to the Potrero to the home of a relative, at a point which later became the
Union Iron Works. Third Street at that time ended at about Townsend Street or
Steamboat Point. Between there and the Potrero was a large bay at the head of
which was San Francisco’s first Butchertown. I later learned that it was a
long way by land from the Potrero to Third Street with its muddand y unpaved
road. I recall that the morning after my arrival, I meandered to the top of a
nearby hill, and after surveying the beautiful bay and mountains before me and
realizing that I was indeed in California, I began to do some quiet
prospecting-for there were croppings in sight, and I had heard so much!
California’s First Railroad
In 1856 a railroad was built
between Freeport and Folsom. This was California’s first railroad and not
until 1864 was the second road built. This was the San Francisco-San Jose
Railroad. The Central Pacific Railroad (now the Southern Pacific Company)
operated its first train in California from Sacramento East to Newcastle (31
miles) in June 1864. On May l0th, 1869, the "Last Spike" was driven,
thereby connecting the Central Pacific and the Union Pacific. San Francisco was
then connected by rail to all Eastern Points. There was an extra boom in freight
during the building of the Central Pacific Railroad as all the railroad iron and
much of the other material went to Sacramento by river.
The Sacramento River
My first job in California was
cook of the Schooner "Emma Adelia" of which Captain Andrew Nelson was
captain and owner. My work was not cooking alone but also tending the jib sheet
and working cargo. During the summer we ran in the fruit trade.![](01_jpgTule_Sailor_Map_of_Bay.jpg)
The passengers who got on board
well up river had a whole day’s entertainment plus looking for a cool spot,
for a summer day on the Sacramento is "heap hot." Rio Vista was
usually the last landing and the boys would turn in for about five hours, to be
called when Angel Island was reached, for we must have coffee before beginning
to discharge. This would be perhaps three or four o’clock in the morning, and
if it happened to be low water with the corresponding steep gangway plank, it
was a tough job. At about 11:30 AM we would leave the city again for the next
trip. So it will be seen that the life of a deckhand on the river in those days
was a bit strenuous.
My clerking job allowed me
considerable time to spend in the pilothouse, and with my general boating
experience, I was an apt scholar at piloting and soon passed for a pilot’s
license, which I held for one year. I then went up for Master’s papers, with
the result that I received my license as Master and Pilot for San Francisco Bay
and its tributaries in 1873. I might here add, I am happy to say that I used it
continuously for forty years without its being rescinded.
The Alviso Run
The "Alviso Run," when
it was founded, bade fair to be important, and had the engineering of today been
applied then, it would have been. The town itself has an interesting history. In
1777 the Franciscan Friars founded there Mission Santa Clara de Asis, but floods
came too often in those first months and after two years the Mission moved to
Santa Clara leaving only the memory behind. Some sixty years later, Ignacio
Alviso who had come to California with the Anza Expedition was granted several
hundred acres there and the town was named "Alviso."
A boom in the ‘50’s was
intended to make Alviso the seaport of San Jose with a canal up the Guadalupe
Creek, but Steamboat Slough with its greater depth took the trade away until by
a canal connecting Guadalupe Creek with Steamboat Slough it was recaptured.
Development of flour mills on the Guadalupe River operated by water-power
followed, and in their prime were the finest in California it was claimed.
Now the South Bay is the roughest
part of San Francisco Bay. The reason for this is that our strong summer winds
have a straight shoot for over twenty miles of channel. This means rough water
when the tide is running in the opposite direction. Often when blowing hard
ahead, I would close one of the forward pilot-house windows thereby allowing
just enough space at the top to hold my guitar, and after securing it there,
would let the wind do the rest. I would then listen to the weird sounds
resembling that of an Aeolian harp.
California Transportation Company
In May 1875, the California
Transportation Company was organized. I left the Alviso Run in 1876 to take
charge of the Company Steamer "Constance." Navigation was pretty bad
in the fall of the year for the reason that there was much burning of peat land,
which caused dense smoke. This would mix with fog and shut out everything. I
remember landing a farmer one night on Staten Island who had a mile to go to
reach his home, and he told me later that he wandered lost for four hours.
One day on my return from Alameda
Point, when about five minutes out, the main-line train conductor rushed up to
the Pilot- house
in a blue funk. He had come over with us a boat ahead of his passengers and had
fallen asleep in the cabin and failed to go on shore. I said to him, "Don’t
get excited, Tom; I’ll take a chance if you will." So in meeting the
"Bay City" near Goat Island with Tommie’s passengers on board, I
blew the whistle for her to stop; then stopped my boat, lowered a boat and sent
Tommie off to join his passengers. The first man he met in going over the rail
was Mr. Davis (President of the Line), who said to him, "Where the hell
have you been, a fishin’?" I was happy to know later that was all the
investigation held.
Pilothouse
I was still plodding along as a
Ferryboat Captain, an occupation which to many might seem a very monotonous one.
But each trip is different and responsibility ever to the fore. What you are
looking for, doesn’t happen-it is the other way about. One rule of the company
I must plead guilty of having broken, and that is having guests in the
pilothouse. Many of the old Oakland and Alameda commuters can testify to that.
Nevertheless my mind was always on my job.
Jumpers
For a long time the same Mr.
Scott would say when we picked up a "jumper," "We haven’t
drowned anybody yet, Cap." But one day a chap jumped forward of the wheel
and the wheel didn’t miss him. He was finished when we picked him up. Another
day, about half way across, I was walking the pilothouse floor when I saw a
passenger step over the chain at the bow and jump straight ahead.
Strange to say, he went clear the
length of the boat and bobbed up astern. Four minutes from the time he jumped,
he was back on board the steamer-just wet. On another occasion, just coming off
watch, I thought I would call on a "jumper" at the Receiving Hospital
where we had delivered him the afternoon before. He was a German. I asked how he
felt when he struck the water. He answered "Not so good, but ven de steamer
vent away, I feel so lonesome. Say, Captain, it’s in de paper, yes? I sure
vant her to see it." Strange to say I don’t recall ever having a
"jumper" in foggy weather. Maybe they considered how awkward it would
be for the navigator. However, they were no respecters of a gale of wind.
Tides
It also may seem strange to say
that the tides at the ferry landing at San Francisco (and in fact on the city
front generally) are not so strong as in former years. The reason is, that the
by-passes on the Sacramento River-such as the cut from Rio Vista to the lower
end of Horseshoe Bend-do not allow the winter water to accumulate in the Delta
regions. All the water from the river-floods goes through Raccoon Straits or
around Angel Island Point out the Golden Gate to the sea. As the young flood
tide "makes," the river water presses it out to the city shore, and as
the flood strengthens, it forces the river water toward the city, then in
time-for a short while-the flood joins forces with the river water and this is
called the bore. I have seen a ship at anchor in the stream in absolutely slack
water when the bore struck her. She would quickly swing to head it and one could
hear the anchor chain surge-the tide came with such a rush.
Earthquake and Fire
The
great earthquake and fire of 1906 has oft been chronicled, yet it has a place
here for we were "among those present." When the shake came at 5:18
AM, I was at home in bed. The family immediately assembled in Mother’s room
and I recall Marion saying, "Never mind, we are all together." I
started to leave the group to save some wobbling bric-a-brac but, "No Dad,
stay right here," came in a chorus. I went back to bed, as I was facing a
hard run for the following night, but my family soon rousted me out, for smaller
shakes were occurring, and "you never know." I got up and fully
dressed, walked to the top of the hill in Alta Plaza (a block away) and surveyed
the city. From that point I counted ten different fires in the down-town
district. I hurried home and advised, "Go down Fillmore Street and buy all
the grub you can get."
As I was due to go on watch, I
started to walk it by way of Pacific Avenue to the Water Front. I arrived at Van
Ness Avenue just as General Funston and his men were passing on their way
down-town to install martial law. I remember distinctly the impression of safety
the scene gave me. When I got to the City Front the fire had nearly reached the
wharves and in places I had to run with my coat up to my face as protection from
the heat. I arrived at the boat and relieved Captain Bradley, just as an order
came to go with the boat as near as possible to St. Mary’s Hospital to receive
and move the patients. The hospital was situated on the top of Rincon Hill.
After going to the nearest dock and waiting an hour, I received an order to
return to our slip, other arrangements having been made for these patients. My
relief, Captain Bradley, lived in Alameda. Therefore his home was not affected.
So he said to me, "Jack, you better go home; I’ll look out for
things." I did not need a second invitation.
We didn’t leave the house until
the second day later, when we all went over to our friends in Alameda, taking
with us Auntie Nelson, who had by now been burned out. We went over from the
foot of Baker Street in a launch. As we passed the City Front going south, the
whole of the North Beach District and Telegraph Hill was aflame and fire tugs
were working hard to save a group of oil tanks. The quiet of the homes and
flowers of Alameda was very striking to the refugees.
During the first few days of the
fire no one was allowed into the city without a pass. There was therefore very
little ferry travel. All saloons were closed in San Francisco. As soon as ferry
service was established, Oakland saloon business began to pick up. During this
time, at San Francisco, there were two policemen stationed at each side of the
landing bridge, and if among the passengers coming ashore, there were any
visibly "under the influence," they would be rushed back on board and
not allowed to land. It was funny to see "a drunk" try to straighten
up when he saw "the Cop."
Ferry navigation at night was
handicapped for a long while after the fire. The downtown district being in
total darkness made it necessary to stick closely to the compass course and not
chase the will-o-the-wisp. On my way to and from the boat from home, I would
usually walk straight out Pacific. As there was not a house standing east of Van
Ness, one never knew what street one was passing. By the time the downtown
merchants established make-shift places of business on Van Ness Avenue and
street grades were reestablished, I recall riding on the Sutter Street line with
its new track a foot or two above the then street grade from Van Ness to Kearny,
going at the rate of forty miles "per" with no stops or cross traffic,
not a building all the way.
Collision
When the tule, or land, fog shuts
out Goat Island in the middle afternoon, it is usually good for at least
twenty-four hours, and very dense at that. Such was the condition on Sunday,
December sixth, 1908. Just before leaving the slip, I got word that the
"Oak
land"
was coming as an extra boat, with a load of automobiles. I blew a long whistle
on leaving the slip. I then heard the "Oakland’s" whistle and
remarked to my first officer, "He’s so far south, he won’t bother
us." I had just about gotten well under way, when I heard his whistle
pulling up to our track, and I stopped my boat immediately. I backed her,
signaling accordingly, but about the time I got "the way" off her, I
saw the loom of his lights. A few seconds after, he struck us just forward of
the port paddle-wheel at such an angle that he wrecked the whole wheel and went
into the hull above the water-line. I rushed below and running through the crowd
with both arms up, shouted, "It’s all over. No danger. We are on shoal
water anyway." There was great excitement and confusion, and pulling out of
life preservers from the racks. But I must add that a determined voice with
authority behind it had its effect. I was on my way to investigate and see if
there was any water in her. I went down into the fireroom and could see the
"Oakland’s" lights through our side-all above the water-line
however. The other boat was so jammed into us that I had to get the passengers
over to list her over so be could back out.
When we cleared, I started to
limp over to the city. It was distressing to hear the effect of the broken wheel
slamming against the paddle-box at every revolution. Just before entering the
slip, I got word that the "souvenir hunters" were selecting life
preservers. I stopped the boat at the mouth of the slip and arrived at the main
deck by way of the boat davits, and addressing the crowd, saying, "When you
people drop those life preservers, I’ll land this boat!" After a few
kicks, laughs and "You are all right, Cap," I motioned to the mate to
"come ahead" and the passengers were landed minus souvenirs.
I then went over to the ship-yard
at Oakland Creek for repairs. The damage to the "Oakland" was merely
the two broken jack staffs, rails, and bow rudder, but there was much broken
glass from automobile headlights when the impact came. The usual investigation
by the United States Local Inspectors and also by the Company was held. I was
exonerated from all blame by both. This incident stands out forcibly in my mind
as in all the years of my command, no other vessel ever collided with me, nor I
with another.
Retirement
I have taken a steamboat more
than one hundred and twenty-five thousand round trips across the Bay, and at
various times have captained the ferry steamers "Newark," "Bay
City," "Garden City," "Encinal," "Oakland,"
"Piedmont," "El Capitan," "Alameda,"
"Sausalito." I have now reached the swan-song of my career as a
"Ferry Boat Captain."
It is the last day of May 1914.
As I go on duty this Sunday morning, I have a feeling that it is to be a tame
windup, for the regular commuters will be missing. At any rate the
"Newark" is an old friend, and I am a bit sentimental, as the fact
comes to mind that at my first and my last trips as captain, I am in command of
what I considered the finest ferryboat on the bay. Five P.M. and my last trip
from the City, and nothing unusual to indicate it.
Half an hour later I left Oakland Pier
homeward bound, starting the boat as usual from the shore end. As I walked the
hurricane deck toward the other pilothouse, the fog-bell on the end of the pier
began to ring, the company’s fire tug steamer "Ajax" lying at Outer
Wharf commenced blowing her whistle, and on entering the pilothouse, I was
greeted by my friends Allan Pollok, Judge Melvin, my brother Bill and my worthy
successor Captain John Carson. After a hand-shake all round, we were meeting the
"Piedmont" with her flags flying and whistle blowing and crew lined up
on the h
urricane
deck. As we met the other boats in crossing, each saluted with her whistle. The
result was that we were busy answering three blasts all the way over. I took the
helm and made the landing with a quiet resolve not to break a pile. After I
"rang her off," I went down on deck where a delegation of company
employees and other friends who had come on board were awaiting me to offer
congratulations and a hand-shake. The time now went so quickly that I had not
gotten out of my uniform when it was time for the boat to leave with her new
captain.