April 25 - Wednesday "Are you there, Mrs. Larimore?"

Since the beginning of my research, the marriage of Solomon and Anna Flynn had been surrounded in mystery. One thing I knew for sure is that they began their life together in a very secluded spot on the edge of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. We drove due east from Madera through some beautiful rolling country to find out more about the place. As we descended into the valley I began to understand how important the location had been for this town, now called Oakhurst. This little valley, with the former name of Fresno Flats, had been an important crossroads, the place loggers and miners came to get their mail, stock up on supplies or just have some fun.

1880 Directory

Solomon and Anna lived here in 1880 for a brief time. According to MC KENNY’S PACIFIC COAST BUSINESS DIRECTORY CALIFORNIA 1880-81
he had a dry-goods shop with a partner named Phil Schmitz, and he is listed in the phone directory for that year as the postmaster. The couple stayed together in Oakhurst for no more than two years because the record of his travels shows that Solomon spent most of the 1880's traveling and seeking his fortune.

Oakhurst today serves as the last stop before the rather long and winding road that leads to the south entrance to Yosemite National Park. It is an international point of interest with several large hotels along the main highway.

Unlike most of the visitors, Deb and I had a totally different agenda. We drove straight to the edge of town, to the living history museum, Fresno Flats Historic Village and Park, to see some buildings that have been preserved from our great grandfather's time. Unfortunately, it was nearly 4:00 PM when we arrived and the museum was officially closed.

Old Homestead and Jail Door

The late day sun was tinged with orange as we stepped out of the car and stood gazing at another world. On our right was a classic one-room school house. On our left stood a tiny two-story Victorian house painted yellow. Other buildings showed their age as well; a livery stable and a twin log cabin with thick square beams. Walking around a bit I came upon a mobile home behind the little town and knocked on the door. It was the home of the caretaker for the museum who, after hearing about our journey, was extremely gracious to us and offered to take us around.

Double Cabin with Wide beams

Two hours later we were still immersed in the tales of the town, its buildings, and its people. We also learned that our guide had insights into the buildings that went far beyond historical. Though she is legally blind, it turned out that she had been the host to several ghost hunters and had, on many occasions, seen strange signs. This was especially true in the Victorian house they call the "Larimore House." It had been the home of a well-to-do merchant, the same occupation as our grandfather, and I had been looking forward to this part of the tour the most.

Laramore House ( see website for more)

It was when we reached this point in our tour that it began to take on an otherworldly feel. As we entered the kitchen our guide had been telling us that the children who visit on class trips tend to upset the ghosts. She then spoke to Mrs. Larimore directly: "Hello Mrs. Larimore! Is it OK if we take a look around?" Deb and I shared a side glance. We weren't uncomfortable, but mildly taken aback. (Later we decide that we both agree that there isn't anything wrong with it. Many people believe in earthbound spirits.)

From noted biographies of Madera

It turned out that something really interesting did happen in that house. A picture hanging on an upstairs wall answered one of my questions about Solomon's connection to the town. It was a picture of Jake Myers, Solomon's old boss! It turned out that Jake and his brother Charles had lived here when they were youngsters and that Charles had married one of Larimore's daughters. Charles' picture was also upstairs along with a picture of the real estate business that Jake eventually owned in Madera many years later, thus connecting the dots between Firebaugh's Ferry, Madera and Fresno Flats!

Another interesting story comes from the Larimore legacy. Our guide told us that Jake and Charles, in a moment of youthful indiscretion, had held up a Wells Fargo stage. They got caught "red-handed" as they say and turned away from crime, but many of the people in that area never forgot.

From then on the names Fresno Flats and Myers had become irrevocably linked together and that situation didn't sit well with Mrs. Larimore, whose daughter had married Charles. She got so tired of hearing remarks about her son-in law, that she took it on herself to petition the courts to change the name. The funny thing is, research shows that she didn't get a single name from anyone living in or near that town on that petition.

Are you listening Mrs. Larimore? Nobody else wanted to change the name!

While we were still upstairs we all had a good laugh when we were startled by the sound of a cat's me-ew. It was Deb's cellphone ringtone, but for a moment none of us was sure if the doors were open or closed to the spirit world.

Dinner in the Room

After our tour, which included access into every wonderful corner of that museum’s collection, we headed off to find lodging. With our usual aplomb we disregarded our normal instincts to shop price and instead checked out the best hotel on the strip. Deb worked her magic on this one and got us a beauty of a spot with a great view, three beds and two rooms- at a reasonable price. Thus proving one of her mantras: it never hurts to ask!

We didn't have plans for our next move, all we knew was that we were going to stay there for a while and think about it. And what a place to be! We didn't know it yet but the highlight of our trip was just around the corner, in a place perfect for honeymooners, just like our great grandparents must have thought when they came here as newlyweds.

April 24 - Tuesday "Orange juice anyone?"

In the 1850's California's Central Valley was a vast flat expanse that was the nearly exclusive home of thousands of birds. The whole region was called "Grass Valley" and that was probably all they thought the place was good for, however, a few enterprising farmers began to cultivate the land, using windmills to pump water from the aquifer below and diverting streams for irrigation. A few towns started popping up, but it was hard going for a small town without a good source of income.

Deborah Lazar takes pictures in a Grass Valley sunset

The main business in that region, other than gold mining, was logging but the logs were far up in the mountains and processing them was difficult. The problem was how to get the logs to where they can be processed and shipped. Since there wasn't a river nearby to do the job, they built one, above ground, to carry the logs over 60 miles out of the mountains! This is the famous “V” flume that terminated in Madera- the Spanish word for "wood."

Into this little town came many hopeful Californians looking for a good place to settle down.  For Solomon Lazar the year was 1886 - the year his first son, our grandfather William was born. Solomon had tried his hand at businesses in several locations. The last was Tulare, where several fires had destroyed parts of that town. Before that, he had been in the Oregon territories, Seattle and La Connor. But his fortunes proved illusive in those places and he returned to California to join with his true love and start again, this time in a little promising town called Madera that was growing by leaps and bounds.

That Madera, and the one Deb and I arrived in, are worlds apart, never-the less, they had many things in common. No longer a lumber town, Madera is still a working class town with many surrounding farms of almond, pistachio and olive trees, as well as miles and miles of vineyards. One of the largest plants is owned by Italian Swiss Colony. Some grapes in the valley are grown for the table, many for raisins, while others are used in port wine production.

We arrived in Madera late in the day, tired and ready to rest, so we looked for a place to stay right away. We got a room on the fourth floor of a large hotel, a nice high spot to see our surroundings. Before going up we had a nice talk with the desk attendant, whose roots we learned went about as far back as ours do in that town. In fact, her grandmother probably knew our grandfather!

Everything was going great, then, on the elevator, an odd thing happened when we met another guest.  At our floor Deb got stuck on the elevator trying to get her luggage together. The other guest, a man, was clearly a little tipsy and got off with me, even though it wasn't the floor he had selected. I waited at the door for her and he finally walked off down the hall. (This guy would prove to be a problem later.)

Downtown Madera

As the sun went down we went out to take a few pictures and get some of that Mexican style fast food available everywhere. With several buildings missing, the main part of town has the appearance of  a smile with a few missing teeth.

I had read that the main street used to have at least a dozen bars. Back then, there was even one establishment with a roller skating rink on the second floor where the whole building used to sway when it was full. It was a party town then, and we learned, it is a party town now.

We drove down D street and saw the kind of housing that might have suited the Lazar family when they lived here. There were a couple of Victorian homes still standing that seemed like they could have been a good fit.

House in Madera on D street

Back at the hotel we went to sleep with the window closed because we realized a group of people in the house behind the hotel hadn't finished their last drinks yet and were still a little noisy. We both managed to fight through the noise and catch a little sleep, but at 3AM the party went to a whole new level.

Despite her earplugs, Debbie was awakened by a few large thuds which she thought might have been thunder but on closer inspection she discovered that oranges from the trees were being hurled at the rails and glass door of our veranda. Then we heard the drunk guy in the room above us egging the people down below to throw more!

Deb is not one to take such insanity very long and soon she was on the phone with the desk who were not aware that it was going on. The pummeling and yelling continued for about a half hour but eventually the police came to make them stop and clean up the mess. Later we were glad that we were able to get the cost of the room reimbursed for our troubles. Thank you hotels.com.

Old vine at Ficklin Vineyard

So much for our wild night. On to the wine tasting! The plan the next day was to find a vintner using old vines in the same vicinity where Solomon had planted twenty acres of Malaga grapes in the early 1890’s. The area has a pretty lengthy wine tour, but Deb had looked Ficklin Vineyard up and decided it was the best one to see.

It turned out to be one our favorite stops on the journey. The people were so nice and the aged port wine, grown with very similar grapes as Solomon had planted, was very good. The owner had wild flowers growing between some of the oldest vines and we had a great time taking pictures there.

We also checked out the Historical Society Museum before leaving Madera and were given access to their treasures even though it was typically closed on that day. We got the full tour from a helper who happened to be there putting up displays. His help, and all that was preserved by the Historical Society added to our knowledge of that region immensely.

Our next stop is another crossroads-- the gateway to Yosemite, an old (possibly haunted) village, and the honeymoon spot of our great grandparent's great getaway.

Deborah at Ficklin 

April 23 - Monday "Down by the river"

Misty hills beyond San Juan Bautista

Deb and I were finally going to be leaving the Central Coast and the morning gave us a moist kiss of misty fog for our good-bye. One could sense the nearness of Monterey in the air, yet the ocean is actually quite far from San Juan Bautista. It made it even more clear to me that the town was special and must have held a very important place in Anna Flynn's heart. Before leaving we searched the local graveyard for an hour but found nothing notable for our research. Then set off on the next leg heading east.

From San Juan Bautista we traveled up and over the Diablo Range, into the San Joaquin Valley towards Madera. I say traveled-- but really going through the pass was more like being lifted, cloud-like, into a world of tilting, rolling, and swerving landscape. Pacheco Pass takes nearly the same route as it did 150 years ago and it wasn't hard to imagine Solomon on this same trip headed out of the mountains to see his girl. I wonder how many sad Sundays he retreated back alone on a stage coach or buck board up this winding road to Firebaugh's Ferry and the long work week ahead.

Driving Pacheco Pass

My dream was to find any sign of the place where that famous ferry might have crossed the San Joaquin River. When Solomon first came to California around 1875 he worked as a clerk for a man named Jake Myers. Firebaugh’s Ferry was never much in the way of a town, but the stop had the one thing all good merchants seek: location, location, location. The river in those days blocked travelers going both east/west and north/south owing to its snake-like course. Now, with canals and irrigation, the water of the once formidable San Joaquin is no longer wide or deep enough to matter.

I didn't tell Deb what I was looking for as we passed over canals that showed there was once a waterway nearby. I had studied the map of that whole area on Google Earth and found nothing that looked like a ferry landing. I was explaining the story to her when she noticed a little town just off the state highway called Firebaugh. It seemed like a good possibility so we headed there. Driving past the main streets and out to the edge of town we found a park. Deb figured it was a dead-end and wanted to get on to our next destination. Up until now there had been no sign of water. I decided to climb an embankment and peer over the edge. Here was flowing water, here was a path, here was something important!

The Water

We donned our walking shoes and ventured onward following the bank. In a little while we saw a highway bridge and continued along the creek's curves out to where we could see another park. A strange giant wheel jutted out from the water there, and further down the path we saw a painted sign. That was when we knew we had arrived.

The Signs

The sign said we were standing in the exact location of the old Firebaugh’s Ferry crossing! The giant wheel was a relic of a later installation, a swing bridge that had allowed steamboat traffic to pass. That meant the landing where we were standing was the place where the ferryboats came and went taking carriage passengers all the way from St Louis to San Francisco and between Los Angles to Sacramento. Not far from this spot would have been Jake Myer's Store.

The renamed town of Firebaugh had created a wonderful park and exposition for its community and visitors, putting historical signs all along the creek about the glory days of the past. We are very thankful to them for that gift of history which was put together in 2004. Looking around the area further we noticed a rodeo corral. It isn't hard to imagine the horses and buggies watering here as they wait to cross.

In the Distance: the Wheel for the Old Ferry Bridge

It was so amazing standing on the spot where Solomon found his footing in the world, where he fell in love, where he made friends that would last many years. It probably looked very different now, but I think it felt the same to us as it would have to him. Like coming home the first year of collage and seeing the town where you grew up in a new light.

Leaving Firebaugh we set out for California's Wine country. What? Napa? Sonoma? No! Not only is the coast good for growing the celebrated fruit, vineyards were also planted in the Central Valley as far back as the 1850's. It was the start of the gold-rush and people who weren't looking for gold were looking for ways to make a living. Just a few miles west of here, 40 years after the gold-rush, around 1890, our great grandfather planted a 20 acers of malaga grapes in Medera. We were on a mission to see what might remain of those early vines, and to taste the fruits of such labor for ourselves.

April 22 - Sunday "You put a spell on me"

If you say: "I'm going to San Juan Bautista" to a group of native Californians, about 80 percent won't know what you are talking about. That is understandable when you consider the town has remained, to this day, quite like it was 150 years ago. Most people know the El Camino Real, the road that once connected north and south California through a network of Franciscan missions. Just off that course, and the main highway, is the little town named for the mission that was established there in the 1700's.

Earthbound Farm

Our drive from Berkeley took us past Earthbound Farms Organics and miles of expansive fields of baby lettuce growing in deep brown soil. One can tell at a glance that the valley here is rich and productive. I remember reading in 1800's travelogues that the rolling hills between Santa Clara and San Juan Bautista were always filled with wild flowers in the spring. Although it wasn't possible to see the valley the way it must have been for our great grandparents, it was surely possible to imagine.


When we hit the little town of Gilroy, famous for its garlic festival, we had no idea we would get sidetracked there for hours. It was time for lunch, but the antique stores kept calling out to us. Once inside we were entertained by shopkeepers of many types. We even heard the story of a famous Native American, "cigar store Indian" that once stood in the doorway of a store in San Juan. Outside on the sidewalk speakers on the main street piped Mexican music, which we discovered works on the body in two ways: a hypnotic effect, and something similar to having too much caffeine.

We made our way to the local Taquería to explore some Mexican cuisine. Deb ordered something from the menu that was all in Spanish, but admitted she wasn't sure what we were going to get. It turned out to be three tacos with three kinds of meat and a drink that was white, fruity, and very sweet. After our meal we wandered the little convenience store, ending up in the potions aisle. Here Deb took a few pictures of the spiritual bath and floor wash she had never seen before. They had potions for bringing love, money or luck your way or any other situation you may have that is bothering you. An older Latino gentleman offered a bottle for her to consider. His gesture soon became the best explanation for the day--

Old Man: Maybe you should consider this.

Deb: Oh, “Black Chicken.” What is this one for?

Old man: It's for spells. To prevent evil spells.

Deb: Oh thank you, I’m OK (smiling and putting it back).

Do you think I should be concerned about that?

Old man: Could be.

We got back on the road not long after that, but first we had to rescue Deb's reading glasses which she had left on the counter at one of the antique stores. I also decided to buy a small knife there to replace the one I usually carry. Our actual destination was only 5 minutes down the road and we were hit with a dilemma as soon as we got there- the historic buildings we had come to see were open to the public on Sundays, but they were closing in 30 minutes!

If Gilroy had put a spell on us, San Juan Bautista made us fall in love with her. The town is situated between verdant hills, far enough away to seem like mountains, close enough to feel like encircling arms. With only about five crossroads, the town is situated on a small plateau, overlooking a backyard valley that stretches out in three directions. At one time that open land was filled with cattle and vaqueros- the Mexican cowboys who worked for the Mission San Juan Bautista. Now it is acres and acres of produce. The natives of the area at that time were the Mutsun Indians, many of them were loyal coverts to the Catholic religion during the mission period. A tiny graveyard behind the church tells their story.

Native American graveyard behind San Juan Bautista Mission

It was within this culture that our great great grandmother settled and raised her family in the 1850's. If America was a melting pot, California towns were the place where the individual molecules of different cultures rubbed together. San Juan Bautista was a bustling town in those days and there were establishments run by native-born French, Italians, Germans, Swedes, Chinese, and Irish. The O'Flinn family (Anna would later take the name "Flynn") lived in the home that is now known as the Castro-Breen Adobe. In her time the house was owned by Patrick Breen, a member of the ill-fated Donner party that had been reduced to cannibalism during a harsh winter crossing. 

The story goes that when the Breen family arrived from their ordeal in 1849 young Patrick heard about the strike of gold at Sutter's mill and promptly went there to see what he could find. When he turned up a nugget worth $10,000 he decided to stop mining and go back to San Juan to buy the best house in town for his mother. The former owner- Don Jose Maria Castro, a Mexican official, was probably in a mood to sell, since California was rapidly going over to the American side and soon would be the country's 31st state.


The Donner story was very well known in those days and it put people off, so Patrick ended up moving his family to a house on the outskirts of town and hiring Mrs. O'Flinn, Anna's mother, to manage the adobe as a boarding home. She lived there until her death in 1909, but there is no reference to her part in the history of the house in any of the park pamphlets.

The Castro-Breen Adobe

Today the adobe is preserved in it's 1880's condition as part of California’s San Juan Bautista State Historic Park along with several other buildings, most notable the "Zennetta House" and the "Plaza Hotel." In the short time we had, Deb and I scouted out the building's secrets, finding all its coves and window views. I took pleasure in climbing the narrow staircase, as it was most likely place that Anna's room would have been, and looking out from second story patio overlooking the plaza. The rooms were laid out with furniture and personal items, as well as mannequins (is that Deb and Nancy?) dressed in period clothes.

View of the Mission plaza from the second story veranda

There is also a carriage house and blacksmith’s shop, each one in the exact locations they had been when our great grandfather Solomon Lazar courted Anna Flynn. We have to thank the generous attendant of the park for letting us roam the grounds past closing time. We appreciate that she allowed us a little extra time since the park was to be closed on Monday. After wandering through all the buildings we set our sights on finding our next hotel and got a good deal on a night in town. 


We enjoyed our stay at The Posadade San Juan for the ambiance of Spanish style, the hallway arboretum, and because it was right in town. That night we shared some fantastic paella at Matxain Etxea Basque Restaurant with enough left over for lunch the next day. We planned to take the morning to check out the mission buildings and grounds before setting out. 

The next leg of our trip had me a little worried, but I didn't tell Deb about it. I had heard chilling stories about the drive over Pacheco Pass. They say it has some surprising blind turns, but we planned to go over in daylight, so I figured we'd be fine. After that we will be looking for a river crossing that was once a major thoroughfare. I wasn't sure whether any part of it remained. The old town had been named "Firebaugh's Ferry" but it didn't exist anymore. Finding that town would mean finding Solomon Lazar's jumping off point, the place where his life really began in America.. 

April 21- Saturday "Touching Home"

Midday - night

Everyone knows San Francisco is hilly. But if you've never been to a hilly city you just don't know what that means. Our trip to see the former homes of the Lazar family c. 1900 - 1920 took us up and up, and up and up, until we could see the waters of the bay sparkling in the rear-view mirror.

The family lived on Sutter street near Scott until the earthquake. Their second home was merely a block over on Bush St. - which was even closer to their "home church"- St. Dominic's Cathedral. I wanted to gage how much of a presence the church would have had on their lives, and I was surprised to note that it didn't dominate the neighborhood as much as I had thought it would. Driving by you almost miss it because it's so huge. It feels rather more like an alien being, with its long legs splayed out along the road.

We found parking on the lazy shaded street where the family of four once lived and began our search but the houses and numbers didn't seem to add up. I began counting from one end, arriving at the spot where the house must have been. Although the number was wrong we had to be satisfied to end our study there. Then, from the steps above, we heard the greeting of a very kind gentleman who took an interest in our search to find the home of our ancestors.

He and his wife were in the midst of preparing for a baby shower, but they were so generous with us that they let us come inside and see their home. He seemed happy to tell us what he knew about it as he walked us through the rooms, explaining that his house was the only one on the block that had not been remodeled inside.

Original Fixtures

As with most Victorian homes, the first thing you see is the staircase leading up from the long hallway that goes all the way to the back of the house. In a side room you find the big fireplaces and the original pocket doors opening to a study or dining area. All the fixtures were original and though the home had been updated in places, such as the kitchen, it still gave off the charm of an era gone by.


We talked about how the neighborhood had weathered the Earthquake in 1906. This street had been spared the fire and many of the houses were fine except for the chimneys which had been rocked out of place. His family had been living in that home during the 1989 quake and he related that their daughter saw the giant cathedral dome crash down from her window that day. (I put that in the back of my mind. The spire from St. Dominic's that was destroyed in the 1906 quake was probably even taller.)

It was getting late and we were thinking coffee...food...and of course, parking... It's a given in this city that you figure everything out around parking. We headed for an out-of-the-way Pannini restaurant and had a fair meal. As the sun fell away from the downtown streets I got an idea. "Let's check out the Golden Gate Bridge!"

Auto pilot humming again, I set off back up the hills and headed for the presidio, or any optimal viewing area near gates of the bay. At one point I was somewhere I thought I was when, suddenly, I seemed to be getting on the bridge! But with hearts pounding we grabbed the last exit before heading to Oakland. We got off with seemingly dozens of other tourists who were out for the same thrill.

Which it was! Thrilling that is, to see the lady in lights holding court in twilight with a few patches of fog and the sky glowing royal blue. Pictures don't do it justice. Here is one of us together through the magic of photoshop:

Traveling with our Dad's ukulele

It was cold, it was late, and we were heartily done for the day. We turned around and headed back to Berkeley where we were graciously expected and planned our next move. Tomorrow we will go back even further in time, to the sleepy mission period and the Castro-Breen Adobe, former home of Solomon's beloved wife, Anna Flynn, dressed up in 1880's style, just like it was when she lived there.

April 21 - Saturday "Touching Stone"

Morning - midday

The weather was glorious for our first real visit to San Francisco. Driving back across the Bay Bridge I pointed to the towering pyramid shaped Transamerica building and told Deb that was where we were headed. In the time of our great grandfather the streets between Market and Broadway, going out from the bay and up past Montgomery contained many small industrial and wholesale concerns. Now the area is the heart of the financial district with several skyscrapers, ringed by numerous distinct and beautiful relics of the early days. Quite a few of these buildings have been preserved and restored, and now they house galleries, offices and restaurants.

407 Jackson St.

The narrow streets felt like home as I wended my way through each intersection and sidled up to 407 Jackson St. I was parking on the very street, in front of the very building, that had been the headquarters of the Lazar-Aicher Paper Company! I cannot easily douse my enthusiasm at this point because this landmark, with all its varied history, is the starting point of a mystery that has never been fully uncovered about our family.

The building is now the home of The North Point Gallery and nothing could have suited us better. The gallery specializes in nineteenth- and early twentieth-century American and European paintings, with an emphasis on early California art. The president, Alfred C. Harrison, Jr., is an author of several books on California painters. The gallery presented many views of early California and some of the state’s most interesting and beautiful natural scenes. Every room held a new fascination, including a few Albert Bierstadt landscape paintings.

Alfred Harrison, Deborah Lazar and Jessie Dunn-Gilbert

Ms. Jessie Dunn-Gilbert, director of the gallery, took a great interest in our journey and our story and made every effort to be helpful while we were in the downtown area. Mr. Harrison looked over Deborah's art portfolio and was extremely approving of her work and abilities. He then talked about the world of art and the unfortunate situation great artists like her are in today.

"Your paintings are beautiful” he said, “unfortunately, you will probably not be successful until you're dead."

 Deb smiled, nodded, and said nothing, as if this was a funeral and there wasn't anything one could say.

 "But keep doing what you're doing! You don't know how happy I am to see the work you are doing."

Making myself at home

During the whole of our conversation, in the back of our minds, we were busy getting the feel of the first floor of 407 Jackson St., with its high ceilings and thick joists held up by fat round beams. The exposed brick above the clean walls looked like they'd been through hell, but they also appeared quite strong and thick. The city grew from its ports and the story goes that many buildings along this street were built out of abandoned ships that had been beached and covered in.

Plaque on the wall of the former Hotaling Whiskey Co.

There are two stories about this building I want to share, one is about the earthquake and the other is about the Lazars. After the earthquake a huge fire raged for three days destroying most of the downtown area of San Francisco. There wasn't much the fireman could do to stop the flames since all the water lines had been broken in the quake. But the block that housed Hoteling Whiskey Co. on Jackson St. was saved. Evidently some ingenious navy guys rigged up a hose from the bay and soaked the barrels in the cellar with sea water. They say it smelled terrible, but the building, the whiskey, and other structures on that block survived. One other nearby block in the downtown survived and that was the large twin buildings of the Customs House and the Appraisers, which was a good thing for the property owners who were able to confirm their deeds and rebuild.

I don't know when Solomon Lazar started using space at 405 Jackson. Maps of the building shows that in 1896 there was a paper warehouse in one of the back offices. Solomon was in the paper business from around 1901 and may well have used this same office prior to 1910 when the first record can be found. We had wanted to go up to the third floor where the paper towel factory had been, but were disappointed to find that it was closed.

Here is an excerpt from "Zellerbach: The House of Paper," a 1926 company publication, which talks about the building:

"A man of the name of Lazar on the dingy third floor of a Jackson Street building, just half a block from the principal Zellerbach building began to operate a little folding machine for tissue papers, which he had patented. The machine was far from perfect, but it worked, and the Zellerbach Paper Company very promptly began to buy from him folded paper towels for sale to the trade. Anything that was paper, Zellerbach bought and sold.

The business in paper towels grew rapidly to the point where it outdistanced the manufacturing facilities of the plants and perhaps also the mechanical possibilities of the machine.

When Isodore Zellerbach and Mr. Higgins in 1913 climbed the stairs to the dingy third floor story plant--they saved time that way, rather than ride in the building's leisurely water power elevator-- it had not occurred to them that they were about to do something without precedent in Zellerbach history." ~ Chapter VI, page 5. (This chapter goes on to say more about the relationship between Lazar-Aicher and Zellerbach but I will save that for later.)

We were sad to leave our friends at Northpoint. We had ventured out to the Ferry House for lunch (we  had Crab Louis- cold Dungeness crab salad) and bought a few California products (wine and olive oil). Our new friends at the gallery had become our touchstone in the big city, even helping with the hungry parking meters (most street parking in San Francisco costs $3.75 per hour!). But it was time to move on to find the two former homes of the Lazar family in San Francisco. I had addresses, but the number on the first house never matched up with my maps, so I was eager to see the street and houses for myself.

What we found in beautiful lower Nob Hill neighborhood gave us even more to smile about.

April 20 - Friday "The Paper Case"

Our ride across the bay bridge after our brief touchdown in San Francisco was a breeze. For lunch Deb and I had a plate of hummus, veggies, and falafels across the street from the campus travel office where we learned the ins and outs of visitor parking. It's tricky, but it can be done. On campus, crowds of youngsters were gathering on the lawn to enjoy the warm weather which we learned had just arrived. There was also a special day coming up, an open house, which had livened up the place.

The Bancroft Library sits on a hill overlooked by a bell tower and another bright white building farther up the hill. It is a stately marble-like affair with an air of orderliness. A visitor gets the same feeling from the main desks and the people in charge. It's not exactly stuffy though; the people were patient and helpful. We took our seat at a long table and in a few minutes they brought us the box containing the files on the "Lazar Case" Tissue Patents" and other related folders. It was a veritable treasure trove of legal papers, depositions, spy files (really, Pinkertons!)

We had just over three hours to go through it all, with no opportunity to return, since they are closed on weekends. Deb held the camera while I speed-read the contents to determine what we really needed. In all we took about 300 photos.

Many memorable items struck us as meaningful and kept us intrigued for much of the trip. The contents are the property of The Bancroft and are under strict copyright protection so we can't share the actual items, but here is just a snippet of one detective file to get a sense:

When we handed in the carton for the day the librarian said, "Boy you really gave that box a workout didn't you!" Since we didn't do much else on this day, I have transcribed a page of conversation between Solomon Lazar and a lawyer for the Zellerbach Paper Company, Max Cohn. It takes place in Cohn’s office where a stenographer was taking notes for at least some of the time.

call number: 88/215 carton 19:7

San Francisco, May 28th, 1915

On Thursday May 27th 1915 at about eleven o'clock Mr. Solomon Lazar called at my office. I asked him to be seated.

Lazar - Well what do you want of me?

Cohn - Mr. Aicher requested me to take up the matter of the towel machine which he has in his place.

Lazar - Well what do you want to know about it?

Cohn - Who does that machine belong to?

Lazar - Evidently it is Aicher's machine. We are going to sell machines. To make a long matter small we are going to sell machines. We are not going to make towels. Absolutely not. We are not going to make any towels. Machines we will sell. We think we are going to sell machines.

Cohn - You only think that you are going to sell machines?

Lazar - Yes we will sell - we will try anyhow.

Cohn - Now Mr. Lazar, you know what papers you signed and what you agreed to do and you know that in all fairness this machine belongs to the National Paper Products Company.

Lazar - Yes it belongs to Mr. Aicher.

Cohn - The machine belongs to the National Paper Products Co.

Lazar jumping up excitedly

Lazar - Do you think that I'm an ass?

Cohn - Why what's the trouble?

Lazar - That woman is taking down everything I say.

(Advancing and addressing the stenographer)

Give me that page

(stenographer tears out a page containing only a few words and Lazar tears it into small bits.)

This is a dirty underhanded trick.

Cohn - If you are playing fair why are you afraid to have what you say taken down? I am willing that any stenographer should take down what I have to say in this connection.

Lazar - I will not talk to you any further here. If you want to continue this conversation you will have to go somewhere else.

Lazar and I walked out into the front of the building and continued talking on the sidewalk.

Lazar - Now it is no use for you to try any of your tricks on me because I won't stand for them.

Cohn - My only concern is what you intend to do with the machine that is now at Aicher's Machine Shop. Do you refuse to turn it over to the National Paper products Co?

Lazar - I refuse absolutely. Now you know that you cannot stop us from making machines and if you succeed in stopping us here we can send blue prints anywhere else and have machines made. You cannot stop a man from earning a living and you cannot buy the product of a man's brain.

Cohn- Evidently you have been consulting an attorney.

As you can see the Lazars had become entangled in a legal battle with the Zellerbach Paper Company involving claims and inventions. It will take a while to unravel the story and figure out exactly what happened. We do know that a very large company wanted something from a very small company, and it seemed that they would do whatever they needed to get it.

In the meantime, as the sun was going down over the bay, we found ourselves happily ensconced at our wonderful host's home in Berkeley who allowed us to entertain ourselves until they got home. Their son wasn't feeling well, but was most gracious. While we waited we opened a cold bottle of white wine and had some cheese and crackers. Dan and Linda arrived in good spirits and soon figured out the connection they had with Deb. The night passed in laughter and fun as we shared some of what we found at the library and other stories from the past.

Tomorrow we head to the big city to see the building on Jackson St.where the Lazar family had their paper towel office and factory. On hearing our plans for the day, our hosts extended an invitation to stay with them another night. We are so grateful for their help. It meant that we didn't have to find lodging and could focus all of our efforts on our tour of San Francisco. What would we find in the building that survived the earthquake and fire that raged all around it in 1906? As it turned out, some wonderful people let us see for ourselves.