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.

April 19 - Thursday "The Family Circle is Unbroken"

A few phone calls to the retirement home where our father's long lost cousin, Louis Lazar now resides appeared to insure that we would not be allowed to visit him as we had hoped. A round of phone tag between the desk and his apartment put him off as he tried to understand what was going on. He finally told the desk that he "wasn't much of a greeter," so he didn't want any visitors, and was in fact "flat on his back" this morning and didn't feel well enough to entertain.

It was just the scenario I had feared. Louis is 94 years old and has lived in a retirement community for many years. Our connection to him is tenuous at best. When I had first discovered his existence late last summer I attempted a phone call which he ended by hanging up. I then wrote him and laid out our family lines. He was reluctant to contact me, but he had been persuaded by his housekeeper to make the call. I was floored when weeks after sending the letter I heard him say, "Hello Nancy, this is Louis. But you can call me Bud."

And that is exactly what he said to me once again on my cell phone shortly after we arrived at his retirement home. We had been making headway with the wonderful attendant at the desk and had planned to leave some pictures of the family with her. Louis had been given my phone number and made the decision to call me:

I replied, "Yes, it's me, Bud. Remember me?"

Where are you?

I'm down in the lobby.

Are you here in California?

Yes I'm in the lobby of your building!

You are! Well... I guess you'll have to come up and see me then.

I'd love to. I'm here with my sister. She wants to meet you too.

Your are! Well... I'm not much of a greeter. Why don't I come down and get you.

If you feel like it.

I just have to put on a sweater and I'll come down.

OK see you in a few minutes!

Minutes later, a tall man with spindly legs wearing a red sweater came down the hall and I knew instantly it was our long lost relative, Louis (Bud) Lazar. He is one of two cousins that my father never knew because his father and Louis' father had parted ways in the early 1920's. The reason for this has been one of the mysteries of this research.

Louis (Bud) reminded both Deb and me of my youngest brother Russ. He has the same quick humor and wit. Bud worked in the printing industry all his life and seemed to be very mechanically inclined like our brother. He was very gregarious and funny most of the time. He said that his father, also a Louis, was a real fighter, and would "take you on, if you got in his way." I had articles from his father's time as a boxer in 1906 which improved his memory on that subject.

Unfortunately he couldn't always place the people of his past and didn't seem to want to talk much about his family, but we got to see a few pictures on the wall left by relatives and a Happy Birthday note written by a grandchild. In the end we were satisfied with making the family connection, which was very strong, and leaving the mysteries to simmer for now.

After our goodbyes we met up with our cousin, Dr. Thomas Baer, who unfortunately missed the meeting with Louis owing to the difficulties we had getting it arranged. He took us on a wonderful tour of Stanford University. It's hard to describe seeing for yourself what an accomplished person our cousin has become. And he is not the only exceptional family member in the Lazar line (including the coming generation). I won't go into all the flattering details except to say he has fulfilled the ideal to do something worthwhile with your talents.

After visiting his lab and office we walked the campus which is stunning. A huge cathedral anchors one side of a Spanish style plaza which reminded me of pictures I've seen of the old missions along California's coast. After the walking tour we had a wonderful lunch and got caught up on 50 years of history. Later, after a rest at the hotel, we were back out for another long conversation over dinner with Tom's wife Bobbi and another cousin, Bill Baer who happened to be in the state on business with his firm.

Bill and Tom had some interesting documents on the patents of our grandfather, William T. Lazar, showing that he was still at work developing the paper towel machine for interleaving tissue paper in 1920. (These were new to me and I will have to follow up on them in my work on the paper case.) We showed them a book that was published by the Zellerbach Paper Company referencing the Lazar's paper towel factory and several old pictures of the family. The night went by too quickly, but we had to end our visit. Tom was leaving on business in the morning and Bill had appointments, so that was our last time together. Deb and I were so grateful for the generosity and congeniality of the family we were able to meet with there in Palo Alto. Thanks you guys.

We left the hotel in the morning after a great night's sleep not knowing where we would be staying that night. On the way into San Francisco, our route to the Bancroft Library in Berkeley where some documents were being held for us to view, Deb made a call to an old friend whom she had just uncovered in a dark region of her memory.

Hi Linda, it's Debbie, Debbie Lazar. Do you remember me?

Ummm...

We were great friends. Back in Putney... I mean Brattleboro. Our kids were the same age. I remember we really hit it off back then. Barry my husband and Dan, they were friends too.

Well, I can't quite place you but what's going on?

Oh I'm in California. Driving into San Francisco right now actually, with my sister. We are on a fact-finding tour of the places our great grandfather lived and worked.

I see...

We are going to be in Berkeley today and I remembered you moved there and thought I'd look you up. (Deb continued to explain the mission to the library and our plans for the day.)

So, you're going to the Bancroft? Where are you staying tonight?

We don't have any place lined up yet.

Why don't you come here when you're done. You can stay with us tonight. Let's have dinner together too, Ok?

That's sounds great! We'll see you later then.

After an exchange of information and numbers Deb hung up the phone and we were riding on a cloud. It wasn't that we didn't have a hotel because we could always figure that out, but it was extra nice to be invited to stay with friends, even very old ones that couldn't quite place us, and right near the place where we would be ending the day. Now we could concentrate on the business at hand, reading and copying the contents of a carton of documents from the Zellerbach Paper Company files (SERIES 7.7: NATIONAL PAPER PRODUCTS COMPANY, 1914-1936) labeled "Lazar Case."

April 18 - Wednesday "Into the fog of time"

April 18 - Wednesday

My sister Deb and I both arrived at the San Francisco Airport in good shape, although I had a three hour wait to join with her. After hours of white-out cloud filled windows, both our flights opened up over the Sierra Nevada Mountains where we took pictures- almost identical to each other- and then again over miles of vineyards in the San Joaquin Valley. I remembered seeing all those places on Google Earth; the Texas Diggings and the American River winding through canyons. In those same hairpin turns, gold was uncovered in freshets after the winter snows melted.

In this harsh land our great great-grandfather, Anna Flynn's father, David O'flinn and his brother Henry sought a brighter future. As far as I know, David disappeared into the world of mining never to be seen again. Henry can be found in boarding houses in the region up into 1900. But Anna's father met some terrible fate sometime around 1870, according to the narrative of Isaac L. Mylar, who reported that Anna's mother was raising four children alone in that decade. The census of 1870 bears that out, finding the family of Ann O'flinn: Thomas, Francis, Anna, Mary, and William, without a father in that year.

The afternoon had been sunny in San Francisco, but soon the fog came out from the bay, north of the airport, and began to reach into the sky above me. It was the 106th anniversary of the Great San Francisco Earthquake and the dark floating clouds looked like black-gloved hands. I couldn't resist a photograph of this first fog experience and since I was waiting for Deb's plane to land I went out to the farthest point on the air train to take a self portrait.

By the time Deb arrived I was an old hand at getting around the airport and I took her on her first air-train ride. The fog by now had covered most of the sky and she found the effect to be somewhat haunting.

Reservations for two nights at a four star luxury hotel had been graciously made by cousin Tom in the Redwood area of Palo Alto. We were glad for the short drive from the airport and easy access. When we arrived we encountered the valet who asked if we needed help with the luggage. This was a kind of special treatment we were not accustomed to and we both felt a little out of place. (Deb and I have a kind of telepathy for this kind of situation and we worked out parking the car and unloading our own luggage to save on expenses.)

Once we were settled into our room, which was very nice, we realized we hadn't eaten a decent meal all day. The room service menu had prices that were out of range for us so we dressed up a bit and went down to the bar hoping to find something satisfying at a reasonable price. We shared a grilled Ahi Tuna plate with extra rice and each had a glass of California wine. It was 3AM eastern time and we were punchy. We let the bartenders know which anniversary it was. They didn't guess the Earthquake in three tries, but they knew something was going on about the Golden Gate Bridge - and they were right- 2012 is the 75th anniversary of the opening of the bridge.

The night passed in quiet and comfort. All was well in the morning when we connected with Tom and laid out our plans for the day. However, our work began right away with making an appointment to see a long lost relative of the Lazar family who seemed, to us at least, to have gotten up on the wrong side of 2012.

Dedication

Solomon Lazar family1889

This page is dedicated to the story of several journeys, through time and over continents, some of them very successful, others seeming to withhold their treasure, but all fulfilling some kind of promise.  Like most epics, it begins with an ending. For when my oldest brother, William Thomas Lazar III, passed away at the age of 60 in November of 2010, a kind of obsession griped me, and I felt the need to look back at where the Lazar family story began.

The problem was that I knew precious little about my father's family on his father's side. I knew my great grandfather immigrated from Germany when he was a young boy and settled in San Francisco and that his name was Solomon Lazarus. There was a riddle we all learned about him: He came to the U.S., and dropped the 'u' 's'.  So that is how we became the Lazars. We also knew that our great grandfather was a Jewish man who married an Irish catholic girl. But as it turned out, we never learned more about our ancestors on the Lazar side because not only did our father, William T. Lazar Jr., pass away at the age of 42, but his father also passed away at 42. Even our Grandmother Lala, Aileen Buckley, who married Solomon's first son William, had little information to share concerning her in-laws.

I began my initial research into places and dates using census records and newspaper articles. Then my cousin gave me a collection of letters he'd found, about 70, all written by our great grandfather Solomon, starting with the death of his beloved wife in 1916 and dating to late 1919, just a few months before he passed away at 60 years old. This was an amazing opportunity to peek into the mind of my ancestor, and to learn first hand about the hopes and dreams he had for his family.

As the pieces of the Solomon's life in America began to come together I started dreaming of retracing his steps, which brings me to the present account of our journey to California. My sister and I call this page the "circle of gold" because as it happens, our brother Bill left behind a stash of rainy-day gold jewelry hidden away in a box, and once we were able to open it, our mother offered to bequeath it to us to help pay for our trip. Gold is why many people came to California, and it is fitting that it became the catalyst for our adventure. I'm only sorry that my younger brother Russell, who sadly also passed away at 42, like his father and his father before him; and my older brother, Bill, won't have the chance to share in our discoveries.

On this tour we will encounter a love affair that broke some rules, gold fever that may have broken a father, inventions that rocked the foundations of family, an earthquake that barely disturbed their progress, catastrophic fires, and an indomitable spirit to go forth and prosper.

We also want to take this opportunity to show our deep thanks to our friends and family, and all those we met along the way, who helped us in so many ways on this journey.

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