Across the plains in ’49
Oral History of John Patrick Bubb 1921
Captions for photos:
Picnic circa 1890-1895 with members of Bubb and Croall Grey families:
L-R: Margaret Croall, oldest child of Jeannie before marriage to Bubb, 34-38yo here.
Standing next to her is her husband Willam Regnart Jr.
In chair in front of her is Olive Agnes Bubb B 1873, 18-22yo here.
Behind table with bottle of wine is Arthur Artie Bubb B 1875, 16-21yo here.
On far right side is John Peter Bubb standing with beard, wife Jeannie sitting in front of him.
On far right in hat is John Anderson Byron, married to Olive Agnes Bubb.
Two babies are his daughters.
In front of him is Amy Evelyn Byron 1894-1987.
Baby on left on ground is Dorothy May Byron 1897-1982
20th wedding anniversary of John P Bubb and Jennie Croll:
Caption reads: According to local historians, those who considered themselves the elite of Cupertino were the New England sea Captains.
The Scandenavians and the Canadians.
The elite are shown here in 1875 at the 20th wedding anniversary party of the John P Bubb family.
Photo courtesy of JC Dunbar, caption and photo originally appeared in Cupertino Chronicle in 1975
As told by one of California's grand old pioneers at the age of 91 years, together with other experiences of the early days.
As told to and written by Lenore Ammen Bubb, his daughter in law, married to his youngest child Arthur “Artie” Bubb.
In the heart of the wonderful Santa Clara Valley in the city of San Jose lives one of California’s grand old men.
Of all the pioneers who made up California history, none has been truer or more loyal than John P. Bubb.
None have endeared themselves more in the hearts of others nor made their handy work more felt than in this true worthwhile citizen of a great state.
Mr. John P. Bubb had seen this wonderful country, the Santa Clara Valley, develop and grow, blossom and bloom,
and had a large share in making it the gloriously delightful and fertile valley that it is to-day - one of the garden spots of the world.
When he first came to the valley the main products of the soil were mustard and squirrels; the roads were trails and land was high at forty dollars an acre.
Hundreds and hundreds of acres in the heart of the valley were said to be so poor that a jack rabbit would starve on it.
Such was the opinion of some who had come before any living to see the same land worth five hundred dollars and upward an acre, and support more than “one jack rabbit”.
JOHN BUBB: With the passing of Mrs. Phoebe Apperson Hearst, memories of early childhood and knowledge of life as linked with that of her husband Geo (George) Hearst was recalled;
for back in Missouri, before California was ever thought of by either of them, George Hearst lived in my home almost as much as he did in his own.
He always called Mother, Aunt Ann and lived with us and went to school – you see my Mother and his father were related – I believe they were second cousins.
When I got older I worked for George in his copper mines and while doing so I boarded with his sister Patsy. I think it was in ‘51 that I first saw him in California.
For a good many years he was pretty much out of luck and most of the time broke.
I think he was past forty when things began coming his way; just before he went to Nevada and discovered the (silver) mine he named the Merrimac after the river back home, he came into camp where my brother Will and I were working.
He was broke, foot sore (for the soles of his shoes were worn out) and weary – I loaned him sixty dollars and I claim it was that sixty that turned his luck.
LENORE: And it was the sixty dollars he never returned? I asked for I had heard this story before.
JOHN: No he never paid it back although soon after he struck it rich and his fortune began!
LENORE: I guess after this he never had time to think of you and your money but you rather imagine a man like him with all his wealth would have remembered a friend who helped him, I said
JOHN: Well our paths parted, I’ve often been minded to tell his wife and ask her for it but the opportunity never came up. I never saw her alone.
The last time I saw her was the day of her mothers funeral and of course that was no place or time to talk about such things. I was one of the pallbearers that day, you know.
LENORE: Well, Grand-daddy, that sounds interesting – I think I’ll write a little story around it all.
Note: Lenore was his daughter-in-law married to Arthur his youngest child, she calls him Grand-daddy as a term of affection.
JOHN; No!! That’s not a good story – come over some day and I’ll tell you all about crossing the plains. That will be a story.
So I held him to his word and a couple of Sundays after his ninety-first birth-day I went over and for two hours he lived again his journey to California across the plains driving an ox team in ’49.
I traveled with him from his Missouri home, the Green River, Ash Hollow and the Platte where they passed a tribe of more than five thousand Indians,
on through Bear Valley over fields of crickets four inches deep, forty miles of desert to Humbolt Springs, across the Humbolt River on across the border into California over the great Sierra Nevada’s where so many suffered and perished.
I thought of the magnitude of the journey and marveled at the fortitude and apparent tranquility of the people undertaking such a journey and compared it with the present-day luxury of the trip and its comparative safety.
For seventy years Mr. Bubb has lived in California. In Washington County Missouri he was born on August 8, 1828, where his father had been established since 1814. Here his father married Mary Ann Gibson, a daughter of the Old Dominion.
They reared a family of five sons and four daughters, John P being the eldest and the only one still now living.
It was Monday morning February 14, 1849 when John P, a boy entering young man-hood told his folks good bye and started, with a party of forty five over what was called the Santa Fe Trail for California.
The trip which took over seven months was for the most part void of any unusual adventure, although at many points along the road they saw where trouble had occurred and disaster had overtaken those going ahead.
Evidence of trouble with the Indians they saw, and the havoc wrought by terrible storms; at one point enroute they passed a train of oxen which had been struck by lightning just the day before.
“Because they were harnessed together every one of them had been instantly killed and there they lay still harnessed”.
They lost a good many of their men to Cholera.
It was between Ash Hollow and the Platte River that they lost the first one of their party, a youth by the name of Armstrong who was suddenly taken with cramps one morning and in a few hours died.
The same afternoon, Silva, another young fellow whose turn it was to drive the wagon called out to Mr. Bubb to come drive for him as he felt sick, and before morning he too was dead.
Both of them having died of the Cholera and every case excepting one it proved fatal amongst the party.
JOHN: “Hornie” or “Uncle Sammie” as we all called him was the only one who had the Cholera and got well –
some-body gave him cayenne pepper and something called number six which in spite of his awful suffering caused him to perform such antics that the crowd could not help being amused.
The next day he was alright, much to the relief and satisfaction of everybody.
JOHN: Near Fort Laramie we passed a tribe of about five thousand Indians; I think they were Sioux and they were perfectly friendly.
Crossing Bear Valley north of Salt Lake one whole day we travelled over piles of crickets four inches deep.
(These crickets were of a type called a Mormon cricket – a type of katydid. Hoards of these destructive insects devoured the Mormons crops in 1847 and 48.
The people were starving until seagulls miraculously ate thousands of the insects.)
At the Mormons trading Post we ran across “Peg Leg” Smith.
One of our party having broken his “Sani-board” was going to buy one from a Mormon who was asking way too much, so he told them if they would come up to his camp he would give them one for nothing.
At this the Mormon started to abuse “Peg Leg” roundly for spoiling his sale when a little fellow in the crowd they all called “Frenchy” entered the fray.
For it was more than he could stand to see a one-legged man getting abused by a big strong man such as the Mormon was. And “Frenchy” everlastingly gave that Mormon the worst end of it.
Then we all went with “Peg Leg” Smith to his camp which was ahead a ways and about a mile off the road by the Bear River where we all had the first fresh meat we had on the trip.
He was having a nice fat yearling beef killed for us and there we stayed for two days and enjoyed his hospitality.
Soon after leaving “Peg Leg” Smith's camp, the party divided up with some going to Oregon. Those bound for California now entered upon the roughest and hardest part of their journey.
Over forty miles of desert they travelled to Humboldt Springs across the Humboldt River onto the Truckee River and the Sierra Nevada Summit.
At Donner Lake they stopped for a few days where around the cabin that had sheltered the ill fated Donner party they saw the bones of those who had perished there that eventful winter of ’46.
The trees around were cut off twenty and thirty feet high showing the snow that winter had been that deep. From Donner Lake down to the Feather River the road was dangerous and very steep.
Coming down the road at one place called Steep Hollow they had to hitch three yoke of oxen behind the wagon and one ahead to get down safely.
The wagon Mr. Bubb was with when they got half way down had its chain broke and the wagon and oxen got to the bottom but good fortune was theirs – it did not go over the grade nor did the wagon tip over.
JOHN: We had a fellow with us named Compton who furnished us a good deal of amusement along the way, he had several boys and was always in a hurry – he would make those boys step lively so he would always be the first to get away.
I remember well what his hurry one day did for him – Compton sure did beat us that morning he hurried those boys off and they got far ahead. Some hours afterward we overtook their wagon.
It had gone off the road and tipped over and they had been waiting some time for us to come along and help them back on the trail. “Hurry Up” Compton was somewhat of a joke with us ever after.
JOHN: It took us two days to get down to Nevada City where we stopped and I worked in the mines for two days being paid 1 oz of gold dust for each days work which was worth $16.00 an ounce.
The first days work went for a pair of boots as my shoes were all worn out and I needed some new ones badly.
JOHN: It was September 20th we landed in California. There were eighteen of us out of the original Forty Five that left St Joseph Missouri on Monday morning February 14th.
I spent the winter of ’49 at Fremont and Vernon where I attended the ferry until Spring when I went to Downieville. It rained so hard that winter and spring we had to travel over the land by boat to Colusa.
I never saw so many geese and ducks as I did that winter, also grizzly bears. In August of ’50 I went back to meet my father and mother who with the rest of my family had followed me out.
We all spent the winter at Fremont and the following year in 1851 we came down to the Santa Clara valley where my father bought a farm of three hundred and sixty acres in Mt. View.
Mr. Bubb and his brother Will went to the mines and worked for a time. Late in 1853 they went into the cattle business near Gilroy in the LaSosso canyon on the Hale ranch –
then at Fresno and the Owens River, the King’s River and through Pacheco Pass.
From Los Angeles to Sacramento he herded Cattle and night after night slept in the open with mother earth his bed, the heavens above his roof and a saddle for a pillow.
He has had thrilling encounters with hostile Indians and has a saddle with an Indians arrowhead embedded in the pommel, this no doubt was the closest call he ever had as he was in the saddle when it landed there.
Many were his opportunities to become a wealthy man but the soil called him and in 1866 he bought six hundred and forty acres of land in what is now the famous Cupertino section
with he and his family contributing much toward the upbuilding and welfare of the community. He gave freely of his time and money to any and all worthy causes either of a private or public nature.
And scores there are who can tell of his big heartedness and generous response to all just appeals for assistance.
While the majority of his and his good wife’s benefactions were performed quietly, many delight in recalling the ready help given them in time of need when it was their only hope out of some temporary difficulty.
Mr. Bubb always did and does believe today that a human life is a good investment whether he ever gets his money back or not.
In 1876 he went into the nursery business and hundreds of orchards have been set up in the Santa Clara Valley alone with trees from his nursery.
He planted the first lemon trees here and one of the finest lemon groves in the valley stands as a monument to-day to this remarkable mans ability and industry.
Every tree in the grove was grown from slips of the mother tree which came from Los Angeles.
One of Mr. Bubb’s lost opportunities he often told me about was way back in the ‘50s in San Francisco when he was offered the property where City Hall now stands as well as blocks around it for a wagon and a pair of mules he owned.
He said "I looked out at the sand dunes and then looked at my mules and the mules and wagon looked the best to me.”
Throughout the years of Mr. Bubb’s industrial activities in the fruit, agriculture and horticulture industries, cattle raising and dairy farming, he met with success in each –
having as a help mate a most remarkable wife who was a wise counselor and guide. Mrs. Bubb raised peacocks extensively and was very successful in marketing them – many of the fine birds throughout the state came from her stock.
Mr. Bubb is one of the oldest living pioneers and at the age of 91 years still retains his gentle wit and inexhaustible fund of good nature together with a keen interest in the happenings of the day.
He is very mentally active for his years, he reads his papers every day and gardens more or less daily.
In 1904 his wife passed to her reward, the following year he sold his ranch and now makes his home with his youngest daughter. He is the father of five children, eleven grandchildren and two great grandchildren.
And as the life of this genial old gentleman of the old school travels on to the end of the trail, it is with a store house of wonderful experiences and memories that will accompany him as the shadows turn from grey to blue.
In the hearts of many there lives veneration and love for his kindly heart and noble character because he was not afraid to invest in their welfare – he had faith in them at a time when all earthly aid had forsaken them.
Just a few days since, a man said to his son “Are you related to John P. Bubb? Well you tell him for me that I just love him, I’ve loved him ever since I met my wife and I love him because she loved him and she loved him all her life.
She played around his knee and said sometimes candy came from everywhere like magic. John P. Bubb was everything in her young life. His goodness she never forgot and always told others about.”
Thus ever will it be with this noble character when his physical presence is no more; the name of John P. Bubb will live on in the hearts of those whose lives he has touched in kindness and mercy.
Lenore Ammen Bubb
348 Coe Avenue
San Jose California
September 1921