Step back in time by reading the 1861 letters of William H. Brewer.

David Schmalz here. I write about history in the Weekly for two simple reasons: One, I believe understanding the past helps illuminate the present. And two, because history is packed with stories—the word story, in fact, derives from “history,” and the ones that survive the test of time are often the most interesting. 

But history is not without its challenges. Accounts of stories can change over time due to fading memories, or, quite often, for cultural or political reasons. (In the early Gospels in the New Testament, for example, the blame for Jesus’ crucifixion was placed squarely on the Roman Empire; as Christianity began to be adopted by the Romans, the blame in later Gospels shifted to Jews.)

All of this is why the most reliable forms of history come from contemporaneous accounts—letters, diaries or journals. But those become vanishingly few the further one goes back in time. 

This week’s cover feature contains excerpts of some such letters (edited for length) that were written by William H. Brewer, a scientist with the California Geological Survey, led by Josiah D. Whitney, which was conducted over four years starting in November 1860. The letters, written to Brewer’s brother Edgar, were published posthumously in 1930 by the Yale University Press in the book Up and down California in 1860-1864. A friend recommended the book to me in 2021, but my first experience with it was while researching a 2022 story about the abandoned New Idria quicksilver mine in remote San Benito County (once part of Monterey County). 

I picked up a copy earlier this year at the Pinnacles National Park gift shop, and immediately devoured the letters from Brewer’s two trips in Monterey County, both in 1861. 

There was so much interesting detail in them—it’s striking how terrified everyone was of grizzlies, even just to walk from Pebble Beach to the Carmel Mission, as one example. I decided that I wanted to share as much of it as I could with the Weekly’s readers, but the letters number dozens of pages, much longer than a single Weekly story.

So I hatched a plan, and got the green light: Publish them chronologically, in installments, over the course of the coming months where space allows. This week’s issue is the first installment of the series—Up and Down Monterey County, 1861—and it begins in South County. 

I hope you’ll check it out, and that you enjoy the letters as much as I do.

Newsletter

A vivid view of Monterey County in 1861. Plus, your Sunday Paper.