The Gold Rush Diary of Susanna Fairchild, California Territory, 1849

January 24, 1848, began like any other day for James Marshall. He woke up and went to work at Captain John Sutter’s mill near Sacramento, California. But then he noticed something yellow shining in the water and picked it up. It was gold! Word of this find quickly spread across the country, and doctors, lawyers, merchants, tailors — anyone who could — rushed off to hunt for gold in the streams near Sutter’s fort. President Polk told Congress of the discovery of gold, and Easterners caught gold fever as well. Thousands of people poured into California willing to suffer through dangerous sea or overland voyages in the hopes of striking it rich. Unfortunately, finding gold was not so easy. Almost one in eight adventures died on the way to California. Those who made it did not find riches automatically waiting for them. Life in the mining camps was hard. Men lived in tents and spent their days in icy water panning gold. Even though there was the occasional success story —. one man’s claim produced $40,000 in just one month — many people found disappointment instead of riches. As more gold hunters arrived to stake claims, there was less gold for everyone. In addition, the swarms of frustrated miners made survival even harder. Prices for food and lodging were high. There were few laws, and miners often used guns to solve their disputes. The gold hunters had to form their own courts. By the middle of the 1850s the best gold deposits had been used up, and very few miners had found fortunes. Instead, they had unknowingly contributed to American history: the Gold Rush had helped bring about the settlement of the west coast of the United States.

Meet Susanna Fairchild

Susanna Fairchild and her family were among those caught up in the desire for gold. They left their home in New York and sailed around South America in order to reach California. Susanna describes her first morning in a gold mining camp.

Early this morning I woke to a new sound: hammers and picks striking rock, rhythmically, like the ticking of a tin clock. Miners are everywhere along the river…”Gold!” someone yelled above the noise of the river. “mile north of Old Dry Crik!”

Suddenly the noise of picks and shovels stopped. Before our eyes a swarm of men hurried out of camp to where their horses were grazing. They mounted then disappeared into the woods. Others packed tools and bedrolls onto their mules; some just started walking.

I was amazed at the power of that one word: gold.