A Place in the Sun

by Michael Phillips

  He waited just a moment to let his question sink in, then answered it himself.

  “I will tell you where it would be. When a loan gets behind and goes bad, the real injury is to you. As much as I don’t like to say it, Patrick Shaw really is indebted to the rest of you, his friends. His failure to make his payments hurts you as much as it hurts the bank. He has not paid you what he owes. And if that sort of thing is allowed to go unchecked, it puts the bank in a very serious position. Before long, I might have to call another loan due from another one of you, in order to raise the funds to make up for the note which has been defaulted upon. Do you see, my friends? Do you understand the problem? Do you see the dilemma I’m in?

  “All the loans I have made are subject to a thirty-day call, just like Mr. Shaw’s. In other words, the bank can legally call any note due at any time. Now a banker hates to call a loan due, because it is a very painful experience, as painful for a sensitive man like me as it is to a family who must pack up and leave a home where they have invested years. But if a loan is allowed to go bad, then another loan must be called from someone else, to keep the bank healthy. And so it goes. One can never tell when circumstances may force a banker to begin calling many loans due, in order to carry out his wider obligations to the entire community.

  “This is why I said earlier that if Miracle Springs is to have a future, it must rest upon the solid financial base that I and the Royce Miners’ Bank can give it. Without that solid base, I fear many loans may have to be called due, and Miracle Springs could become one of those ghost towns Mrs. Hollister spoke about. As your mayor, I hope and pray I will be able to keep that from happening.”

  He stepped back and began to descend from the platform, then turned back for one final statement, as if wanting to avoid any possible confusion.

  “I want it to be very clear that if I am elected mayor, I will work strenuously toward a strong financial base, to make sure that what has befallen our friend Mr. Shaw, with whom I deeply sympathize, does not happen to any of the rest of you. In other words, I do not see a string of foreclosures in any way as inevitable, so long as the bank, and I personally, are able to remain in a strong position in the community. I clarify this because I did not want any of you to misunderstand my words.”

  No one did. Franklin Royce had made himself perfectly clear to everyone!

  Chapter 8

  Power

  The banker stepped down, passing close to Pa.

  “If you know what’s good for that wife of yours, Hollister,” he said quietly but with a look of menace in his eye, “You’ll get her out of this race before election day. If she’s going to continue her attacks against me, she’ll find two can play that game! And I warn you, the consequences will prove none too pleasant for either of you!”

  He walked on. Pa did not say a word.

  Mr. Royce strode straight back toward the bank. The crowd of people quietly began to disperse toward their homes. Hardly a man or woman anywhere liked the banker, but everyone was afraid of him. As sorry as they were for the Shaws, no one wanted to find himself in the same position. And as much as they’d have liked to help, no one had the kind of money it would take to do any good.

  Almeda followed Royce down off the platform. She looked at Pa with kind of a discouraged sigh.

  “Best speech I ever heard!” said Pa.

  She tried to laugh, but the look on her face was anything but happy.

  “I may as well have been talking into the wind for all the good it will do,” she said.

  “Everyone loved it,” I told her. “You should have seen their faces! And they clapped about everything you said.”

  “Both of you are determined to cheer me up,” she said, laughing now in earnest. “But you saw what happened—Royce has let it be known that if he doesn’t win, more foreclosures will follow. Nobody’s going to take that chance, no matter what I say, even if they might actually prefer to vote for me.”

  That evening it was pretty quiet. I could tell Almeda was thinking hard on her decision to go back into the race and wondering if she had done the right thing.

  “Why don’t I just go to Franklin,” she said at last, “and meet with him privately, and tell him that if he will reconsider the terms of the Shaws’ note, I will withdraw from the race? Maybe I was wrong to think we could take him on and actually stop him. But at least maybe we could save the Shaw’s place.”

  “Won’t work, Almeda,” Pa said.

  “Why not? He wants to be mayor, and I’ll give him the election. He will have won. He’ll have beaten me.”

  Pa gave a little chuckle, although it wasn’t really a humorous one. “As much as you like to complain about us men not understanding women, and about how your kind are the only ones who really know how things work, I must say, Almeda, you don’t understand men near as much as you might think.”

  “What do you mean, Drummond?”

  “This election isn’t about being mayor. It might have been at first, but not anymore.”

  “What’s it about, then?”

  “It’s about manhood, about strength . . . about power.”

  She cocked her eyebrow at him.

  “Don’t you see, Almeda? You challenged Royce for the whole town to see. You’ve had the audacity not just to run against him, but to pass out flyers, to make speeches, and to ignore two or three warnings from him to stop. You’re challenging his right to be the most powerful person in these parts. And your being a woman makes it all the more galling to him. He was there this afternoon. He could see as well as everyone else that folks like you better than him. And he hates you for it. It’s gone past just winning for him now. Down inside he wants to crush you, punish you for making people doubt him. Winning isn’t enough. He’s got to make you pay for what you’ve done. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did what he’s done to Pat to get back at us, besides telling the rest of the town not to fool with him.”

  “Then that’s all the more reason we’ve got to find some way to help!”

  “I don’t see what we can do,” said Pa.

  “But why wouldn’t he be satisfied with me withdrawing? How does it help him to foreclose and take the Shaws’ place?”

  “Well, for one thing,” Pa replied, “something tells me he wants Pat’s place. I don’t know why, because according to Pat the gold’s about played out. But if I know Royce, it’s no accident that he set his sights on Pat’s note. And that’s just the other reason it ain’t gonna do no good. He’s gonna find some way to get back at you, and he’s also gonna make an example of Pat that folks around here aren’t likely to forget anytime soon.”

  “What harm would it do him to simply let it be known, ‘If you elect me mayor, I’ll let the Shaws keep their place. But let this be a lesson to you not to cross me, or you might find yourself in the same position’?”

  “Power, Almeda—I told you already. If he did that, it would be like backing down. You would have arm-twisted him to letting Pat off, and the whole town would know it. Royce would think you made him look weak. Everyone would know that he was capable of backing down, and so they wouldn’t take his threats as seriously. No, I tell you, he’s not gonna back down about the Shaws, no matter what you or I or anyone else does. The memory of Pat and Chloe and them kids of theirs having to pack up and leave—that’ll keep folks in line as far as Royce is concerned for a long time. Everyone’ll know he means to follow through with what he says. He may hate it that folks like you better and would vote for you if they could. But he wants them to fear his power even more than he wants them to like him. And now that you’ve challenged that, he’ll be all the more determined to run Pat off his land, and hurt you any way he can in the process.”

  Almeda sighed. “I just can hardly believe any man would be so vindictive as you say—even Franklin Royce.”

  “Believe it, Almeda. I saw the look in his eye when he got down off that platform this afternoon. I’ve met men like him before, and I know the kind of stuff they’re made of. And it
ain’t good.”

  “Do you really think he’ll try to hurt me?”

  “He won’t go out and find a man like Buck Krebbs to send after you, if that’s what you mean. He might have done that to me in the past, but he’ll use different ways on you. I have the feeling we’ve only seen the beginning of his campaign tactics. If I know Royce, and I think I do, it’s already a lot bigger in his mind than just the election. I think we may have made an enemy, Almeda, and the town might not be big enough to hold both of us.”

  Pa was right. It didn’t take long to see that Mr. Royce did not intend to stop with mere speechmaking.

  Three days later, on Wednesday morning, when Almeda and I arrived in town for the day, a man high up on a ladder was painting a sign across the front of the vacant store-building two doors down from the bank. In the window was a poster that said “Coming Soon.”

  By noon the words the man was painting in bright red had become plain. The sign read: Royce Supplies and Shipping.

  Chapter 9

  The Article

  Meanwhile, I had finished the article I’d been writing.

  Going around telling folks about Sunday’s speech gave me the chance to get some last interviews. Folks were really ready to talk to me now! I had a long conversation with Almeda on Friday, and then spent the rest of that day and most of Saturday writing and rewriting the final copy. By this time there was a stage running on Saturday too, and I sent off the article to Mr. Kemble by the afternoon mail, along with a letter.

  Mr. Kemble had said earlier that he’d pay me $1 for an election article, but things had changed now on account of the Fremont article. I told him that since he’d paid Robin O’Flaridy $4 for his small article about Miracle Springs, I figured what I’d written here was worth at least $7. But I would be willing to settle for $4 because I knew he couldn’t pay a woman more than a man. But I would not take one penny less than $4. If he didn’t want to pay me that much, he could send the pages back and I would print it somewhere else.

  At the end of the letter, I asked Mr. Kemble when the article about Mr. Fremont would be appearing. I thought it important that the Alta run my version before the Globe had a chance to do a story based on the false information and quotes and interviews of Derrick Gregory. Had it already run and somehow I had missed seeing it? I knew that really couldn’t be possible since we got the Alta in Miracle Springs (though still two days late), and I had been watching for it every day. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why it hadn’t run yet. Nearly two weeks had passed, and the election was getting closer and closer, and I wanted the people of California to know the truth about Mr. Fremont.

  Six days later, the following Friday, in the same mail pouch that brought the copies of the Alta to Miracle Springs, was a packet addressed to me from Mr. Kemble. In it was a check for $4, and a copy of Wednesday’s edition containing my story in full. There was no letter, and no answers to any of my questions. But I hardly cared about that right then! There in the middle of the fifth page, running across two columns, were the words in bold black type: “Mayor’s Race Matches Businesswoman Against Town Banker.”

  I found a quiet place, then sat down to read over the words I had written.

  Among the many mining towns of northern California, most of the big news in recent years always had to do with gold. But in the growing community of Miracle Springs, no one is talking about gold these days. Instead, people are talking about the town’s first election for mayor, which will be held on November 4, concurrent with the national election between John Fremont and James Buchanan.

  This election is big news because of the two individuals who are running against each other. As reported in this paper last month, the election matches longtime Miracle Springs banker Franklin Royce against equally longtime businesswoman Almeda Parrish Hollister.

  That’s right! Businesswoman. Mrs. Hollister, one of the first women in the west to seek office, will not even be able to vote herself. Yet she hopes to sway enough men in the community to upset rival Royce, who must be considered the favorite.

  The campaign between the two town leaders is a hot one, with emotions and reaction among the voters running high.

  Franklin Royce first arrived in Sacramento from Chicago in early 1850. He was sent west by the banking firm Jackson, Royce, Briggs, and Royce—a company begun by his father and uncle—to explore possibilities for branch offices in the new gold rush state. He opened an office in Sacramento, but later that year took out a $40,000 loan and moved north to the foothills community of Miracle Springs, where he opened the doors of Royce Miners’ Bank. When asked why he chose Miracle Springs, Royce replied, “I wanted to become involved in banking closer to the source, where men were actually digging gold out of the streams. That seemed to me to provide the greatest opportunity for me as a banker, as well as open up the greatest potential for helping a young community grow and prosper.”

  Within two years, Royce had made Miracle Springs his permanent home and had completely withdrawn from his position with Jackson, Royce, Briggs, and Royce of Sacramento and Chicago. Since that time Mr. Royce has played an active role in helping the young community to grow. According to Royce, his bank has financed the building of 8O% of the community’s homes and has been an active supporter of the miners and their interests. “Who could be better qualified to lead such a diverse community forward than one like myself, who has been such an intrinsic part of helping in its growth up till now?” said Royce.

  Mrs. Hollister came to Miracle Springs a few months before her opponent. She was Almeda Parrish then, and she and her husband had come to California from Boston. After a brief stint attempting to find gold himself, Mr. Parrish started the Parrish Mine and Freight Company. Upon his death from tuberculosis in the early winter months of 1851, his wife decided to keep the business going and to remain in Miracle Springs.

  She has been there ever since. During those years, Parrish Mine and Freight has been involved with the miners of the region in nearly every phase of supply and delivery, from small gold pans to the ordering and installation of large equipment for some of the major quartz operations in the surrounding foothills.

  Two years ago, the businesswoman and widow married Miracle Springs miner Drummond Hollister.

  When asked why she felt qualified to become Miracle Springs’ mayor, Mrs. Hollister replied, “I realize the new state of California has never had a woman mayor before. However, I feel that changing times are coming, and that women will play a vital role in the future of this state and this great country of ours. As mayor of Miracle Springs I would bring an integrity and forthrightness to the office, and the families of this town would be able to trust that their future was being watched out for by one of their own.”

  All the women, of course, although unable to vote, expressed strong support for Mrs. Hollister. “I think the idea of a woman mayor shows what a wonderful thing democracy is,” commented the local schoolteacher, Miss Harriet Stansberry.

  Among the men, opinions were strong on both sides. Several miners and ranchers expressed reservations about a banker as mayor. “I ain’t never yet met a banker I had much of a hankering to trust further’n I could throw him!” commented one old miner who said he had been in Miracle Springs longer than both candidates put together. The same prospector added, “Why, if anybody oughta be mayor of this here place, blamed if it don’t seem like it oughta be me. I’m the first one in these parts to find gold anyway!”

  Others, who did not want to be identified, also said from their dealings with the two candidates, they felt more trusting toward Mrs. Hollister. “She ain’t one to short a feller so much as a penny,” said one man. “Don’t matter what kind of dealings you have with her, she always gives you the best price and a little more than you asked for. But you’re never gonna get something for nothing at no bank, that’s for sure!”

  Many of the men said they had nothing but the highest regard for Mrs. Hollister, but some expressed concern. “She’s a nice enough woman,
but that don’t mean she ought to be mayor. It’s a man’s job. I just can’t see that I want no woman being leader of my town. Somehow it just ain’t right. Mayoring’s gotta be something a man does.”

  Among such men, the comment of one local saloon owner seemed to sum up what many thought, “It don’t really matter what I think of Mr. Royce or Mrs. Hollister, there’s only one man running. And since only men can vote, I figure they’ll stick by their kind.”

  Whether that proves to be true, and the men of Miracle Springs elect as their mayor the only man on the ballot, Franklin Royce, or whether they go against the odds and elect California’s first female mayor, Mrs. Almeda Hollister, the fact is that this election is one to watch. It is surely one of the most unusual elections in all California this year. Whether she wins or loses, Mrs. Hollister is a pioneer in a state full of pioneers. And if she should win, not only the rest of the state, but the whole country will be watching.

  Chapter 10

  The Rumor

  We all thought Mr. Royce’s decision to open Royce’s Supplies and Shipping was a pretty underhanded thing to do. By the time his sign was finished, word had gotten around town about it, and a lot of people were upset that he’d try such a deceitful, lowdown tactic as attempting to run Almeda out of business.

  But we didn’t know the half of it yet. Within a week of Almeda’s speech, we began to get wind of a rumor circulating about town. Almeda, according to the gossip, had presented herself falsely to the people of Miracle Springs. She had left Boston and come to California to escape the worst tarnish a woman’s reputation could have. Some even said she had met and married Mr. Parrish on the ship north from Panama.