Lotta

A temporary resident of the city of San Francisco writes of his visit in 1858 to a "bit theater," so called because the cost of entry was one bit (twelve and a half cents, or a dime if a dime is more convenient).

The view on entering was unique. Enveloped in dense fumes of tobacco, the audience was drinking and talking. It was a melange of rough miners, fresh from the mountains and now on their way home to the States, and conspicuous for their shaggy beards and weapons; inoffensive looking gamblers seeking whom they might devour, and curious sight-seers. Mingled among them were a number of boys of various ages and sizes to match.

The visitor describes a tragic comedy in which an acrobat portrays Brigham Young, more acrobatics after the play, and a dance by one of the boys.

Next came a song by a little girl of twelve years, who, on account of the homeliness of her last name, was simply known as “Miss Lottie” on the bills. The dance was accomplished to the entire satisfaction of the audience, but, owing to hoarseness, Lottie broke down amid the “Shells of the Ocean.” Thrice she essayed the effort and as often failed. The miners, many of whom had known her when among the mountains on a professional tour, sympathized with her condition as much as they wanted to hear her sing, and it was amusing to listen to them in their rough but kind tones encouraging her to go on. At last, getting into a pet at her failure, she ran off the stage amid the applause of her friends.

Two decades later she was the highest paid actress in the country, making upwards of $5,000 a week.

A beautiful fountain bearing her name -- her first name, remember -- ornaments the city where she made her successful start in life; a gift from her to the city whence she made her start to fame, if her questionable notoriety can be so called.

Text from A California tramp and later footprints; or, Life on the plains and in the golden state thirty years ago, with miscellaneous sketches in prose and verse - T.S. Kenderdine, 1888, as listed here.

Lotta Crabtree was first encouraged to perform, when a precocious six year old up in Grass Valley, by the notorious Lola Montez, an adventuress whose life story out-novels many a novel.

But the book quoted interests me for quite another reason. If you go to the list of titles you see there are quite a few of these first-hand accounts and reminiscences; I enjoy them all. But while this one is better written than most, it is also more than any other like the experience of my great-grandfather Dan. He came across the plains and deserts to California in 1857, driving a herd of cattle from Missouri. This book's author trekked to California in 1858 driving a herd of oxen from Kansas. Only one story came down to me, unfortunately, and that through ol' Dan's youngest son's daughter-in-law (my mom). At Salt Lake they were compelled to sell their cows, or some of them, at a great disadvantage for a few bags of flour. He never begrudged them the trade: Evidently those people were starving. But I wish I knew more. 1857 was the first year of the Utah War, and I imagine conditions were more interesting than usual for people trying to pass through.