A mirror can be a fickle friend, sometimes making you feel good or sometimes bad; sometimes illuminating every corner around you while at other times leaving you wrapped in shadow; and sometimes showing something behind you which you didn’t know was there – behind you in the room, or – if you have the right mirror - behind you in Time. There is just such a mirror here in the Sierra Nevada Mountains; a real mirror made of glass and framed in wood; and, if it approves of your curious gaze and senses a sympathetic soul, it will perhaps open for a moment and let you glimpse back in time. To get into the mood for this story, let’s say that you just got home from work. You’re worn out, and wonder what that job is all about as the first thing to greet your arrival home is a pile of junk mail and bills. You remove your coat and shoes, and pause to look in the hall mirror as you pass, then wonder why you even have that mirror there because it only makes you look as bad as you feel, while that sheaf of bills in your hand somehow appears much larger than it should. You toss the bills into a pile on the table and begin to wonder which form of alcohol might best suit your mood of frustration. Mirrors are strange that way – they sometimes bend what we think is real. You are, perhaps, one of those slightly dissatisfied individuals who finds yourself feeling unsettled by modern society; the crowds of people, the babble of electronic noise, the never-ending hamster wheel of income and debt which has become the cycle of modern life, and it’s leaving you running on empty. You feel increasingly left out of society and all it has to offer because you’ve paused for a moment on that hamster wheel and had the audacity to question how you got there. You’re one of those fringe-types who feels that maybe you would have been more comfortable had you been born a century or two in the past, into a time when life and all its cares were of a simpler nature. You’re thinking that maybe you should just get off that hamster wheel for good and move to the mountains to get away from it all. So you turn off all the lights in the house save one for reading, light a fire in the fireplace, and settle into your favorite comfortable chair with a bottle and a glass at hand. After some time of staring into the mesmerizing flames you begin to relax. Your most loyal friend has settled down nearby and stretched his four furry legs in pleasure before the fire. Then you open up a book to lose yourself in a story of people who did decide to chuck away their former lives and move to these mountains to make that change. The mirror in the hall is forgotten by you for the time being; perhaps it holds some memory of a reflection, or perhaps it’s watching you as you read. Coloma, in 1830’s, was a sleepy mountain town, one of many quiet places in the Sierra Nevada Mountains where life was slow and pleasant. Hunters and trappers were in large supply, and they mixed easily and peacefully with the Miwok who had lived for generations in that part of the mountains. As the 1840’s dawned, Gringos were coming in from the West and Spaniards from the south, while the Russians were getting more active farther away along the coast. But everybody was getting along with each other, more or less. Trees were plentiful around Coloma, and that’s what drew a Swiss immigrant by the name of John Sutter there to build a lumber mill, also because Coloma also had lots of swiftly running water to power that mill. But the mill wasn’t even finished when Sutter’s workers found gold and shouted the discovery across the mountains. By 1848 Coloma had quadrupled in population with gold seekers. By 1849 it had grown so much that people stopped counting the thousands of people – all they wanted to count were nuggets of gold. By the early 1850’s miners and their equipment covered the hillsides. Most lived in makeshift cabins or tents. The majority of buildings in town were devoted to the business of separating the miners from their newly acquired wealth – saloons, gambling halls, supply stores, and brothels sprang up all over town, on every crooked street where an empty space begged to be filled. And they all did quite well in catering to the needs of the thousands of lonely, thirsty, hard working men. And in one of these buildings in the town of Coloma - not one of those old, leaning, ramshackle structures so hastily built to serve the needs of the eager young miners - but instead in a carefully crafted hotel meant to stand the rigors of time; in one room of this forgotten hotel there stands a mirror; a sheet of antique glass bound in a wooden frame which will not only show your reflection, but also which sometimes opens as a window; a window through which someone from the past has been observed peering out at the viuewer. It’s a unique hotel, and a very unique mirror. The Sierra Nevada House was a fine place indeed. Built around 1850, it was conveniently situated near both Sutter’s Mill and the brand new Wells Fargo office in the heart of the bustling Sierra mining town of Coloma. Two stories tall, the ground floor held a bar, kitchen, and dining room, while the upstairs floor contained bedrooms situated all around the outside walls with a board walkway circling an open space above the eating area. It was light, spacious, and clean. And it was advertised for respectable women residents only - no prostitutes, please. This was an entirely new concept for a gold rush mining town. Certainly there were women in town, but most had come to work in the bars or in the brothels, and in such places a bed was usually provided as part of the job. But the Sierra Nevada House was setting itself up for a different type of tenant; for women who had either accompanied or followed their men to California but who didn’t wish to live in the shabby accommodations which their men had put together out on their claims. The Sierra Nevada House desired to cater to the cares of respectable wives. (The mirror, at this time, had not yet arrived. It was on board a ship bound from Boston, making its way around the Horn on its way to San Francisco.) Not surprisingly, the Sierra Nevada House didn’t manage to make a go of it as a boarding house for respectable women. There just weren’t enough respectable women in town. So women of a somewhat less socially respectable character soon came to occupy the Sierra Nevada House, and it quickly reincarnated itself as one of the more popular of the bars, brothels, and gambling halls dotting the streets of Coloma. The numerous rooms lining the walls of the second story became more populated that they ever had been – albeit for short periods of time - and the boardwalk leading to them constantly resounded with the noise of the tramping boots of the eager miners. The Sierra Nevada House had seemingly found its purpose. (By now the mirror had reached San Francisco, been unloaded from the ship and repacked onto a wagon, and was on its way up to the mountains.) Isabel (or Isabella) was a popular lady in this new incarnation of the Sierra Nevada House. Short, slender, with dark hair, she always liked to dress in blue. She was a favorite companion of every miner, either while keeping him company drinking in the bar, or standing behind him with one hand on a shoulder giving him luck while he gambled at cards, or – if he could afford it – accompanying him upstairs to her personal room where he could appreciate her beauty and affection in a more private setting, and then take home a happy memory to keep him warm on those cold dark nights alone beneath a blanket in his shanty. Isabel, it was generally agreed, shone brightly from an inner radiance as well as from her lovely outer beauty, and she was always dressed in blue. And so it was that when the mirror which had traveled so far finally came to Coloma, its original purpose was immediately forgotten and it was given as a gift to Isabel; a token of admiration and gratitude from a lonely gentleman whose nights had been made brighter by her company. Already an antique when it arrived at the Sierra Nevada House, no one knew its exact age. It was old, and beautiful, and very, very special. Isabel placed the mirror in her room and gazed into it often. Several times every day she would check her appearance and perhaps also admire her beauty, the gold filigree on the wooden border framing her lovely self just as it framed the mirror. Sometimes her gentlemen companions would also pause there, although it was Isabel’s reflection which caught them, not their own. But one of those men caught Isabel’s heart, and left it forever empty. It was the very man who had given her the mirror, a man who had brought the antique mirror and a wagon load of other furnishings around the Horn to furnish a fine home he had intended to build for the anticipated arrival of his wife, but who instead chose to delay the wife, postpone the home, and abandon Isabel, and disappeared back into the mountains in his search for gold. From that moment on Isabel was often observed standing alone on the porch gazing up into the high Sierra. If approached by men at those times she would always decline an invitation for company, and then retire to her room alone. And sometimes there in her room she would be seen gazing into the mirror, staring, as if she was dreaming of finding something within the antique glass. Men still sought her out, but the one man whom she desired had gone and she could never recover from that loss. So one day she quite suddenly disappeared from Coloma, never to be seen again. It was rumored amongst the ladies of the Sierra Nevada House and their patrons that she had gone in search of the man who still held her heart. Isabel left all of her possessions behind, including the mirror. After her disappearance Isabel’s mirror was moved downstairs into the parlor, then into other rooms variously used as a dance hall and a dining room. Always it stood regally against one wall, and always its antique elegance was appreciated by the patrons of the house when they stopped before it. It wasn’t until a few decades had passed that some who paused to admire themselves in the glass now instead saw the face of a strange woman staring back out at them; a lady with dark hair and sad eyes; a lady in blue. And she would hang suspended in the glass before them as they gawked, the murky furnishings of an old bedroom in the shadows behind her, her eyes meeting those of the one who gazed in disbelief before she slowly faded away. Isabel had returned. Soon other strange occurrences began to manifest – a glass or a bottle would slide by itself off the bar and crash to the floor; footsteps could be heard pacing the catwalk that ran along to the rooms above when no one could be seen on the walkway. When it was quiet there were now times when a voice could be heard, perhaps loudly or sometimes just a whisper; a voice where there was no person to be seen. And sometimes when a lady or a guest walked into that bedroom which had belonged to Isabel things were seen to have been moved, as if Isabel had come to check the décor and then rearranged the furnishings to suit her own taste. And then there would be that soft whisper as the current occupant of the room slowly backed out. The Sierra Nevada House burned down in 1902; it burned to the ground and was completely destroyed. All except for the mirror. The mirror survived intact, its antique glass and beautiful frame unmarred by the roaring flames which had consumed everything around it. The Sierra Nevada House was quickly rebuilt, mostly on the original floor plan, and soon reopened as a fine hotel. The mirror was placed in the dining hall and was again used for the next two decades for guests to admire themselves. It wasn’t long before the lady in blue soon began to appear once again; the lady with the dark hair and sad eyes who stared back out of the mirror as if she was searching for something. Or someone. And then she would fade away. And, as before, there were phantom footsteps and soft whispers heard, and things moved all by themselves. The hotel had an unseen guest as well as the paying ones. The Sierra Nevada House burned to the ground again in 1925. Again, it was completely destroyed – except for the antique mirror which eerily survived unscathed. The House was again rebuilt and soon reopened to the public, again as a hotel built on the original floor plan from the 1850’s, with a bar and dining room downstairs and rooms to rent above. It also now came into occasional use as a town meeting hall and community theater. The antique mirror was placed in a position of honor in the banquet room. And it wasn’t long before the beautiful Lady in Blue returned to visit the patrons, gazing out at them sadly from its glassy depths. Three appears to be a lucky number for the Sierra Nevada House, as this third incarnation of the hotel and bar has now survived for almost a century. And although, like the original hotel, the original crowds of paying guests have long ago passed into the mists of time, the spirits of the rough miners and the painted ladies eager to entertain them still walk the mountains seeking gold and haunt the rooms of the Sierra Nevada House searching for that brief reprieve from lonliness. On the floor boards you can still sometimes hear phantom footsteps; in the bar you might catch a quietly whispered word in your ear, sending an unexpected thrill down your spine. And if you gaze into the old wood framed mirror standing in the banquet room you can still sometimes see a sad, beautiful lady in blue swim upward out of its hidden depths to look back at you, searching for something; for someone. Whether charmed or cursed the antique mirror has survived the centuries and the infernos to offer itself as a window to the past; Isabel’s mirror, the mirror of her dreams.
1 Comment
Farrah
2/19/2017 10:21:07 am
I want to go to Coloma now!
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWith a degree in Anthropology and an avid interest in history, Tim Christensen has lived in the Sierra Nevada Mountains for many years. He has no cell phone or television, but manages, when not chopping firewood or shoveling snow, to keep himself entertained with a library of several thousand books. Archives
July 2017
Categories |
Sequoia Parks Conservancy, the official 501(c)(3) nonprofit partner of Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks (National Park Service) and Lake Kaweah (U.S. Army Corps of Engineers), uses tax-deductible contributions to support these parks.
|
Sequoia Parks Conservancy
47050 Generals Hwy Unit 10 Three Rivers, CA 93271 |