Frederick's 49er

I recently taught a class entitled Frederick & the Wild West. I introduced students to a number of former Frederick residents who re-settled in the "western part" of the country, something that changed drastically over the years with expansion into the interior in the late 1700s and 1800s. Frederick County itself was on the western frontier at the time of its founding in 1748.

For the last 280 years, Frederick has boasted several ties to this important story through past residents as settlers and/or playing subtle roles in national events. I also discussed visits to Frederick by legendary "Wild West" icons like Chief Black Hawk, Santa Anna, George Armstrong Custer and Buffalo Bill Cody to name a few. On the flipside, are you familiar with any of these homegrown products that made names for themselves "in the west" such as Pvt. John Collins, James Lewis Johnson, Simon and Titus Cronise, Joseph Walling, Capt. George Late Tyler and James H. Dean? If not, enter their names in the search engine in the header as I've likely written about them in this blog.

One more to tell you about is a man named Luther M. Schaeffer, a pharmacist and published author, who wrote of his journey west to California, Mexico and South America in 1849—a century after Frederick County’s founding. Mr. Schaeffer will be the subject of this week’s “Story in Stone.”

Luther M. Schaeffer was a humble pharmacist who operated a drug store on Frederick's famed "Square Corner" in the mid-19th century. He was a "learned man" as they say, not surprising because he was the son of a popular, local clergyman. Years earlier, our subject had taken his try at "Manifest Destiny" some 16 years prior to newspaperman Horace Greeley's famed plea "Go West, young man, go West and grow up with the country."

American Progress (1872) by John Gast is an allegorical representation of the modernization of the new west. Columbia, a personification of the United States, is shown leading civilization westward with the American settlers. She is shown bringing light from east to west, stringing telegraph wire, holding a school book, and highlighting different stages of economic activity and evolving forms of transportation. On the left, Indigenous Americans are displaced from their ancestral homeland.

There's nothing finer for a researcher and biographer than a first-person narrative. I would have never known about the adventure taken by this Mount Olivet inhabitant had it not been for a visit to eBay one day about four years ago. A search for Frederick, MD yielded an auction item for the vintage, small, hard-cover book entitled: Sketches of Travels in South America, Mexico and California. The book was published in 1860, yet included a personalized inscription in pencil dated “Jan 21st, 1874, Frederick, Md.” 

This inscription inside the cover page was the sole purpose for it appearing under my search for "Frederick, MD" because I certainly wasn’t looking for anything pertaining to South America, Mexico or California at the time. The seller was in Stone Mountain, Georgia and told me the book had spent a good part of its existence in a library, but one not known.

The author of this book is the fore-mentioned L. M. Schaeffer, a man I was not familiar with at all. When I stumbled upon this auction, I immediately decided to perform two searches to learn more about this book, centering on the author and a possible connection to Frederick. I hoped the inscription wasn’t simply written by a former owner of the book with no further relation to the author or content.
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I first needed to learn the author’s full name and his/her whereabouts in both life and death. I decided to start my search in Frederick and soon located my potential “author of interest” in census records within Ancestry.com. I soon deciphered the “L.M.” standing for Luther Melancthon and discovered that he was a Frederick native and past resident. Best of all, I found Mr. Schaeffer here in Mount Olivet, resting in peace, of course. 

One can find Luther Melancthon Schaeffer's gravestone in Mount Olivet's Area F/Lot 64. Unfortunately his monument faces to the east on the side of the cemetery's "Pump House Hill" which boasts the highest elevation in downtown Frederick. Poetic irony would have had him facing towards the West, of course, but I can't have everything work my way for these stories now, can I?

The number of the moment is "21." Born September 26th, 1821 in Frederick, Luther Schaeffer was one of six children belonging to Rev. David Frederick Schaeffer (1787-1837) of Evangelical Lutheran Church and the minister's wife, Elizabeth Krebs (1794-1837). The boy's christening on October 21st, less than a month later, is mentioned in the famed diary of Jacob Engelbrecht. Rev. Schaeffer was ordained by the Pennsylvania Ministerium in 1812, although he had received his license to preach earlier in 1808. On July 17th of that same year (1808), Schaeffer became pastor of Frederick, Maryland’s Evangelical Lutheran congregation. Five days after his arrival, he would celebrate his 21st birthday.

Just over six years later, Rev. Schaeffer received high praise from the citizenry for his leadership and patriotism during the War of 1812. Diarist Jacob Engelbrecht wrote the following journal entry many years later:

“War of 1812. The following is the Muster Roll (copy) of Captain John Brengle’s Company of Volunteers, which Company was raised in four hours, by marching through the streets of Frederick, August 25, 1814, (the day after the Battle of Bladensburg, on which day we received the news) headed by Captain Brengle & by the side, with them, rode the Reverend David F. Schaeffer, encouraging the men to volunteer…”
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Somewhat like Paul Revere, Rev. David Frederick Schaeffer helped warn the "masses" that “the British were coming” and more so urged residents to aid in repulsing this threat to America’s independence. Capt. John Brengle, a large farm-owner from just east of town, was a seasoned militia veteran and upon hearing the threat to the capital became intent on raising additional men. Rev. Schaeffer is said to have ridden alongside the company for three miles on their departure out of town that same day of August 25th as they headed south on the Georgetown Pike (today's MD route 355). He delivered a parting address and offered a prayer with the soldiers all kneeling. 

Grave of Rev. David F. Schaeffer and wife Elizabeth

Our subjects' parents are buried a short distance away on the south side of Pump House Hill, and other siblings can be found in Mount Olivet as well. These bodies were moved here in 1902 from a vault once located in the second Evangelical Lutheran Church Graveyard once located in the vicinity of today's Everedy Square off East Church Street extended.

Without official documentation, it can be surmised that Luther M. Schaeffer was no stranger to education as he most certainly received above average schooling from his father and the church in his formative years. His childhood home would have been the rectory house of the church, itself. I found a reference that pointed to a Luther M. Schaeffer attending preparatory school in the 1830s (class of 1834) at Pennsylvania College located in Gettysburg. This is today's Gettysburg College, of which Luther's father was a founding member.

The Evangelical Church campus of 1854 after completion of the twin-spired house of worship of today. This image comes from the Sachse & Co. lithograph of Frederick from 1854.

I surprisingly found Luther M. Schaeffer in the 1840 Census living in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania's Cedar Ward. He was likely very familiar with the City of Brotherly Love as his mother was from here.

1840 US Census showing Luther M. Schaeffer living in Philadelphia

In the years I've been writing this blog, I am sometimes fortunate to find or obtain a photograph or portrait of my subject. Other times, I may locate a newspaper article or advertisement with the individual's name included. Other times, I consider myself lucky to find a diary quote, or recorded correspondence in family records or newspaper accounts. In the case of Luther M. Schaeffer, I have both a book written in his own hand, and a love letter to his future wife. I don't know what Luther looked like, but I have gotten a true sense of this smart, sentimental and caring man through his own words.

I have strong reason to believe that Luther received his specialty training as a druggist from the Philadelphia College of Pharmacy & Science, opened in 1821. This is where he can be found in December of 1845. While here, he penned a letter to Miss Ann Rebecca Late of Frederick. Miss Late was 19 at this time and the daughter of Michael Late (1787-1827) and wife Maria Hoff (1792-1870). Interestingly, Ann Rebecca's older sister, Margaret Catherine (1818-1901) married Luther's older brother Dr. David Krebs Schaeffer (1817-1875). David also became a druggist.

​​Luther wrote the letter to his future wife, Ann Rebecca Late. The couple were not married until February 1853. (Note: written transcript below letter)

Philadelphia [Pennsylvania]
December 1st 1845
 
My dearest, loveliest, and most valued friend,
 
On Friday last, I had the pleasure of receiving your extremely brief letter, which as you well surmised, relieved me of intense anxiety, for alone and without suitable protection I saw you seated in a car about to separate from me and travel in a dark hour of night over the meanest and worst conducted road in the country. Surely then I much have grown intensely anxious of you. The cars moved on, time passed away, and dark night came, and I — a dejected and miserable man in the city of Baltimore — and who otherwise had not a friend, whom I have sworn by ever honorable sentiment to love, cherish, protect, and keep only unto, left me? Was I not deprived at once and probably for a long time of her sweet companionship and lovely conversation? Oh Anna, it seemed as though part of my flesh, part of my bone, were severed from me, when I saw you pass from my sight. And how different would have been your journey to Frederick had I been permitted to have accompanied you. Those tedious and unhappy moments which you endured on the road would have been agreeable and joyful. The very fact of sitting together would have been a pleasure; but so it was.
 
To have gone to Philadelphia that night would have been unwise, for apart from the loss of ___ it would have occasioned. I would have arrived to early in the city for all purposes, so thereafter I concluded to remain with friend Lewis during the evening. Nothing of the slightest moment occurred in Baltimore worth to be told you. At nine o’clock the following morning, your own true lover was seated in a car for Philadelphia. Soon the shrill locomotive whistle was heard and away we went to the city of brotherly love. With ease and safety the trip was accomplished, and having no baggage to attend to, a very short time elapsed ere I was at 18 South Second Street at which I found brother William, evidently improved in health. He is is now in the city of Baltimore. Not being as yet in the possession of any letter from him, I of course cannot inform you of his circumstances.
 
You are doubtless curious about the leisure time I spend and would like to be advised constantly of it. I will with pleasure now give you a brief account of the manner in which I have employed my leisure hours since you left me. My first evening for recreation was spent most of the time with William; afterwards with my usual readings. The second evening for recreation, I attended Solus — the Walnut Street Theatre — to witness, as I told you I would, M’lle [Madamoiselle] Augusta  tripping upon the light fantastic too! It is really surprising to see how such a person whose only talent is in dancing and showing her inexpressibles! can fill a large theatre with beauty and fashion! For once in a long while, as many others doubtless did, I took a seat in the Pit. I had an excellent view of everything going on and so many almost nude women I have never before seen.
 
What a contrast to the following Sunday. In the morning I attended the Presbyterian Church [on] Seventh Street near Arch, and listened to a highly interesting discourse relating chiefly to the Presbyterian Church in America. The Rev. Gentleman, among other things, discussed at length about the Theological Seminary at Princeton — which needed funds. This he deplored since the Institution was the glory and pride of the church. Its alumni were preaching God’s holy precepts in New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Savannah, Norfolk, New Orleans, Mobile, St. Louis, Louisville, &c. &c. and in heathen lands — in all countries. That fourteen hundred graduated from the institution whose professors were not only celebrated for their learning and piety in this country, but throughout Europe. The Reverend Gentleman earnestly called upon the church to sustain the seminary to which they might point with pride and joy.
 
In the afternoon I attended the Episcopal Church — St. Luke’s, 13th Street — where I heard the organ discourse the sweetest notes and where only it so elegantly played upon. The Reverend Mr. [William W.] Spear, a particular favorite of mine, delivered a sermon on …. yes …. on … I fell asleep!

At night I attended the Unitarian Church — 10th & Locust. Rev. Mr. [William Henry] Furness, Pastor — the church we attended you recollect. But Oh Anna, how different were my feelings. How changed the scene then, and when we were there. The same unequalled ringing, the same minister, the same aisle we sat together on, but my own beloved one was not there! No, I was alone. I was melancholy. I had been walking much, through rain and snow. My feet were damp. I felt chilled. I wrapt tight about me my overcoat. Still I continued cold. You were not there! The same eloquent divine preached, but strange I felt, and soon discovered that my head was acting as a pendulum and that I had been like at the 13th Street Church, more engaged with somnus than with the preacher!
 
After service was over, I immediately directed my course to the store, as soon as possible was snugly sleeping in bed, dreaming of sundry things — and of you Anna particularly. I was sorry to learn your mother had not enjoyed good health. I sincerely hope she is now fully recovered and will live to a good old age and that her life may be happy, prosperous, and undisturbed by any painful event. My sincere love is tendered to her.
In conclusion Anna, let me hope for a speedy and lengthy written letter. Speak to me as your heart feels. Surely you will not be diffident towards me for whom you _____ only propitious circumstances and proper time to link us forever as one, and for whom you are now as I am to you — one. May health, happiness, and the blessings of Heaven forever be with you.
I subscribe as usual, your dearest, your own one, — Luther M. Schaeffer

The Walnut Street Theater in Philadelphia

Birdseye view of the City of Philadelphia (1850)

A lithograph of Mademoiselle Augusta dancing in the 1830s.

I found the above gem of a letter online. A gentleman named Griff has the following website entitled Spared & Shared 2. Here is the link:  https://sparedandshared2.wordpress.com/
The premise of the Spared & Shared 2 website is to host a blog repository of old letters found at auction for the benefit of family historians and researchers. Griff has transcribed hundreds of letters in his collection including this one by our subject. I am indebted to Griff and thank him for helping us understand just a little bit more about L. M. Schaeffer through his letter to Ann Rebecca.

Unfortunately, I can tell you little more about L.M. Schaeffer's life as a young man aside from attending medical/pharmaceutical school in Philadelphia. An advertisement in the Baltimore Sun of 1848 points to the fact that our subject was operating a variety store in Baltimore at #62 Baltimore Street near the intersection with Gay Street. I'm not sure if he returned to Frederick by the end of the decade, but I do know that he caught "gold fever" in 1849. Meanwhile, the love of his life waited patiently for him in Frederick.

Ad mentioning L M Schaeffer's variety store in the Baltimore Sun (March 18, 1848)

1850 US Census showing Ann Rebecca Late living with her widowed mother and sisters in Frederick. Note Margaret (Late) Schaeffer married to our subject's older brother David

Between the time of his love letter and his marriage to Ann Rebecca on February 16th, 1853, Luther spent three years in California (1849-1852) during which time he contributed sketches to a Lutheran newspaper under the pen name “Quartz.” Our subject took part in the famed California Gold Rush of 1849. The sketches provide descriptions of mining conditions on the Feather River, Deer Creek, and at Grass Valley (near Nevada City (CA). Additionally, it contains his commentary on social patterns of the area, the creation of local governments, and legal disputes in the society. The collection of sketches was later published under the title: Sketches of Travels in South America, Mexico and California. New York: J. Egbert, 1860. He dedicated the book to Ann Rebecca.

The author writes the following in his preface:

"While pursuing a journey to and from California, some years since, and during my sojourn there, I kept a daily record of ‘‘what I saw and did.’’ It was a source of great interest and pleasure to me, especially as it was written and continued at the desire of the dear and valued friend to whom this book is dedicated. And being a stranger, wandering among strangers, often deprived of all congenial society, it became my chief delight to note down my impressions of the countries I visited. Of course, my recollections of events and occurrences are stronger and more vivid than they would otherwise have been, and since my return many questions having been asked by acquaintances relative to a miner's life &c., frequent reference to my journal has been made. One of the editors of a religious paper, who had often listened to my reminiscences of a life among the miners, solicited me to contribute articles for his paper, which appeared under the signature of Quartz: and were continued until I had communicated the principal incidents of my three years absence. These articles, it gives me pleasure to say, were favorably received, and I have been frequently requested to publish them in book form. They are now offered to the public, with diffidence and some little hesitancy—and while they may possess no literary merit, still a full and correct history of events which came under my own observation, will, it is hoped, compensate for other deficiencies. L. M. S. Frederick, Md., 1860."

On the verge of 1849, Jacob Engelbrecht writes in his diary of the event that would captivate Schaeffer and many other young me in Frederick:

“California & the Gold Region - There is a real gold rage in the United States at this time on account of the discovery of gold in California near Sutters Settlement on the Sacramento and Feather Rivers. Hundreds of
vessels are going & have gone from the different ports in the United States and by the last advices (received today) there are about six thousand persons at Panama awaiting the departure of steamers & vessels for San Francisco & the gold region. Even in Frederick some young men contemplate going. All the talk is California & the gold.”
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Monday December 18, 1848 4 o’clock PM
“J.J. Emeen left Frederick for California in ship Xylon. January 6, 1849 Emeen sailed February 3d.”

Mr. Sylvester Nusz (son of the late Mr. Ezra Nusz) sailed in the "Sovereign” Captain Peterson from Baltimore for Chagrez (Vera Cruz) and California on the 15 instant in search of gold &c. Sylverster Nusz arrived in Frederick October 31, 1850 from California, having saw the "Eliphant.”

Thursday January 25, 1849 10 AM

“The ship arrived at Chagrez January 31.
(He arrived at San Francisco May 18, 1849. Monday August 27, 1849) “

Grave of Sylvester Nusz (1825-1866) in Area A/Lot 6.

More Engelbrecht quotes from 1849:

“For California - This morning the members of the "Baltimore & Frederick Mining Company” of this town, left in the Baltimore cars for Baltimore. They are Messrs. Ai Barney, Elijah T. Zimmerman, David Clingan of
Winchester, Elias Brunner of Jonathan, David E. Miller, Valentine Doub of Joshua, Owen D. Ball, William Wallace Houck#, Doctor James Shorb, Emmitsburg, Francis J. Hoover, Samuel Jarboe, George H. Waesche#,
President, Ai Barney Vice President. They calculate on sailing on Saturday next 21 instant.”
Thursday April 19, 1849 8 o’clock AM

“They sailed on Monday April 23d in the ship Creole, Captain Allen, for the Isthmus of Darien. The other members that went are Repold C. Maund# William F. Mercer, Hy. Powles, William F. Sadtler, William Cariby,
William H. Wasesche, Thomas P. D. Pue, Ephraim Engle, William Job, James P. Waits, George W. Fielmeyer, George A. Ward, John F. Dowell, John A. Davis, Daniel T. Taylor, John Landers, Hy. H. Bechtel, Samuel S.
Bechtel, Frederick Miller, James Murray. Passengers, John A. Freaner, Andrew J. Vaugh, James S. Graham.”
See June 49 # Died # passenger

“California. Mrs. Barney of our town received today a letter from her husband Mr. Ai Barney dated "Ship Creole off Chagres. (Isthmus of Darien) May 16 1849” which is the first letter since they left Baltimore (April
23 1849). The crew are all well & in fine spirits. He had been a little sea-sick but Valentine O. Doub had the sea-sickness rather more than the others.”

Grave of Valentine William Otterbein M.C. Doub (1826-1876) who is buried in Area C/Lot 27

Now its time to hear from a 49er himself, in the form of Luther M. Schaeffer. After receiving his passport, Luther made his way to New York City to catch a sailing ship for California.

​Here is the first of several passages I want to share about Luther's amazing trip into the West. This, like those to follow, comes from his book and constitutes Chapter 1, entitled by Schaeffer as "California Gold Fever."

"The excitement attending the first discovery of gold in California was intense as it was universal. Indeed it was considered as an epidemic, and those who determined to seek their fortunes in that far off land, were said to have caught the California gold fever. A voyage thither, was at that time attended with vexatious delays and annoying inconveniences; yet tempted by the almost fabulous tales of fortunes acquired as if by magic, thousands of venture-some youth and even men advanced in years, left home and friends, dared the dangers of the deep and endured the hardships of the pioneer's life to secure a portion of the glittering metal. Early in the year 1849 I first conceived the idea of a trip to California, and repaired to New York to gain all the information I could, purchase my outfit and secure a berth in one of the many sailing vessels leaving that port.

After numerous delays and disappointments, I succeeded in obtaining passage in the ship Flavius. On Saturday, March 24th, 1849, my younger brother William and myself sat down to breakfast together for the last time; our hearts saddened by the reflection that perhaps we might never again enjoy that privilege. Although the meal was inviting, I had no disposition to eat. In vain my brother, in his efforts to conceal his own feelings, urged me to partake heartily, for I felt so peculiarly queer! So much like a school boy, about to leave his happy home, for a six month's residence beneath the roof of some rigid school or seminary, that I had no appetite for either food or drink. "Come, gentlemen your time is up."I bade farewell to my acquaintances about the hotel and followed my kind friends, listlessly to the wharf. It was not, that the ship Flavius was pronounced by some, unseaworthy, not that others declared she would rot ere we reached California, that I felt so sad and gloomy; oh no, but because I was about to separate from a few highly valued friends, and I dreaded the long time that must elapse ere we would meet again.

As we hove in sight of the Flavius, we saw crowds of men, women and children standing on the wharf—some were taking a last farewell, others were imparting excellent advice, which I thought was listened to with one ear and rapidly passed out of the other, and others again were mingling tears of love, grief and hope, for even in that hour of departure, they were anticipating the pleasure of a future meeting. But hark! man overboard—‘‘throw over a rope’’—‘‘stand back men’’—‘‘now, pull up—hold’’  —he is safe. A son of Neptune, ‘‘had a brick in his hat,’’ and the weight being  top-heavy, caused him to lose his balance, he went in drunk and was pulled out sober! Our ‘‘A, No. 1, coppered and copper-fastened’’ ship Flavius, was riding at anchor as cosily as a cape pigeon just after a storm. ‘‘All aboard,’’ whew! what a rush to the ship—‘‘Man the windlass’’—the sailors sang lustily—cheers were given and returned—we were soon gracefully sailing from the wharf and forest of masts, under the ‘‘immediate assistance’’ of a steam-tug. Many friends of the California bound passengers were on board. The band of music engaged for the occasion struck up Yankee Doodle.

​Away we went, every passenger excited, each one gazing intently upon the vast Metropolitan city, as we receded from its piles of brick and stone. I knew as much about a ship as a backwoodsman, and when the anchor was let go, those of us, who were unacquainted with the sudden splash of the anchor in the water, and the rattling of the heavy linked chain, started, and cried out, ‘‘what is that?’’ to the infinite amusement of the ‘‘old salts,’’ who took especial delight in watching the blunders of landsmen. The steamer carried us to the Quarantine landing; and as she parted from us, cheer upon cheer was given and returned with a hearty will, hats and handkerchiefs were waved aloft. Good bye, and good bye was given and returned until the steamer passed out of sight—and we were left alone to await the coming of the Captain, who did not come aboard until the following day, the 25th, when we ‘‘gold hunters’’ saluted him with cheers and sang in right good style Hail Columbia. The pilot took command, and off we sailed with a stiff breeze, and when we were out sight of land, hemmed in by the horizon, the pilot left us, and now we felt that we were bound in earnest for California. A few passengers were sea sick for a day or two—and if any one can imagine a fellow being utterly wretched, perfectly indifferent as to whether the ship kept straight on her course or sank beneath the waters, some idea may be formed of the awful sufferings of sea-sick voyagers. Passengers rushed to the table without the slightest order or system, the strongest secured the most food, and the proceedings on board were so aggravating, that we held a meeting, drew up rules and regulations for our comfort and convenience; after which we managed to live along more comfortably. "

That was chapter 1 of Luther M. Shaeffer's epic life journey. Three routes were given as options. There was an overland route which our subject passed on. The other two involved passage by water. One involved a voyage around South America, called "Around the Horn," while the other included a destination to Central America and the Isthmus of Panama. The Panama Canal would not be opened until 1914, making travel much easier with a 51-mile trek from Colon on the Gulf of Mexico to Panama City on the Pacific. This was called: "Crossing the Isthmus."

​Our subject opted for the first water route around South America, 18,000 miles in 5-6 months. The journey was long, hard and very dangerous. After preparing for a four to eight month journey, and parting from family and friends, thousands of adventurers set sail. The promises of ships' advertisements were quickly disproved by the realities of life onboard, and gold fever was soon replaced with sea sickness. Many others like Schaeffer would record the challenges, hardships, struggles, and dangers encountered in diaries and letters. These included terrible storms, inadequate food and water, rampant diseases, overcrowding, and shipwrecks. 

Chapters 2 and 3 of his book recount life aboard the ship "Flavius" and a colorful stopover in Brazil, specifically Rio de Janiero from mid-late May, 1849. Back on ship. June 22nd marked the day that Schaeffer and his shipmates passed round Cape Horn, southernmost tip of South America.

​As they headed back northward on their journey, another port of call is mentioned as a stopping point on July 12th—Valparaiso, Chile. While here, he dined at a hotel named The Baltimore House, owned and operated by a former Maryland native. Their next stop would be the final destination of San Francisco.

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Rio de Janiero (Brazil)

Valparaiso (Chile)

​Between April 1849 and January 1850, nearly 40,000 individuals arrived in San Francisco by sea, including Luther M. Schaeffer. There they discovered that they were still 150 miles from the closest gold fields, and that most of the easy placer gold had already been picked up. But they had survived, and opportunities were plenty in California.

In just a few years, San Francisco would mushroom into a massive "boom-town." The image above depicts the town in 1847, while the one below shows the scene that Schaeffer would experience.

​​CHAPTER V. --SAN FRANCISCO IN 1849
"After six months' endurance of the good old ship Flavius—after an almost interminable life on the Atlantic and Pacific oceans—after a surfeit of watching the rising and setting sun, the circular horizon, the numerous fishes of the deep, and listening to the roar of the angry waters, the strike of the ship's bells, to the orders of the officers, the stories of passengers and sailors—at last, on Sketches of travels in South America, Mexico and California. By the bright and beautiful morning of September 17th, 1849, we passed the ‘‘Golden Gate,’’ entered the capacious and magnificent bay of San Francisco, and let go the heavy anchors, amid the vociferous cheers of one hundred delighted and grateful passengers. Only those who have been long at sea, can appreciate the happy feelings of persons, who after a long and tedious voyage, are permitted to look out upon land, and can once more tread mother earth.

I succeeded in procuring a standing place in a row boat alongside our vessel, and was soon nearing that land whose rich mineral deposits were disturbing the entire world. ‘‘Keep down there!’’ ‘‘Hold still! Wait until I can fasten my boat.’’ ‘‘Don't you see how fast the tide is running?’’ ‘‘There—you can go.’’ We jumped ashore, and I stood upon the soil of California. So long pent up on board the ship, that when I began to walk, it seemed as though the earth was heaving to and fro, like some gigantic vessel. But this feeling soon passed off, and I pushed ahead, determined to see and hear all I possibly could in San Francisco. People from every part of the habitable globe appeared to be congregated here. Some were hurrying off to the mines—others were bartering their clothes, their saw, plane, hatchet, &c., to raise funds to enable them to reach the auriferous districts. Others, again, were driving a brisk trade in merchandise, or were engaged in hotel keeping, and preparing habitations for the coming winter.  People had no time to stop and talk. Rents were enormous, prices exorbitant, and everybody acted as though they had but a few hours only to attend to a year's business. With the exception of a few old stone and adobe houses, the town seemed to contain nothing but tents and boarded houses, some of which were brought from the States.

San Francisco

I reached the great centre of attraction—the bedlam of the town—the plaza, or public square. Here was an immense crowd. I could hear music, excited men shouting, swearing, some laughing, and others looking as woe-begone as though they had lost friends, money, and even hope. Here were assembled the sporting fraternity in full force. Let us enter the blue tent on the corner, known as the El Dorado Saloon. Around the several tables are seated gamblers surrounded by all kinds of adventurers.—The Mexican, American, Native California, English, Dutch, French, Irish, &c. &c., clad in varied habiliments, from the glossy broadcloth to the well-worn linsey, every one watching with painful interest the progress of the game. Piles of doubloons and eagles, pistols, &c. are displayed on the tops of the tables—now a card is thrown out—down go the bets—another and another, until the fourth is thrown out. The gambler taps—the betting ceases, and the result is known. The banker raking off the largest share. A little bell is sounded. ‘‘Here, Bob! Gentlemen, what will you drink? Smoke a cigar?’’ Plied with stimulants, the game is renewed, and hour after hour the play is continued. There stands a pretty looking woman with dice in her hand. ‘‘Walk up gentlemen and try your luck’’—and there behind a table stands a man, rolling little balls. Listen —‘‘Come, gentlemen, here's the spot to raise your funds—walk up.’’ Look on the wall, or rather muslin partitions—see those flash pictures—on that high box sit several musicians, whose lively music add enchantment to the scene, More rum, more excitement—some few exultant, while the losers go off one by one, looking most disconsolate, and cursing their fate.—Ah! why yield ye to temptation—why did you not obey the instruction of a good mother, or the wise counsel of a pious father. Perhaps you now remember the parting admonition of a fond wife or sister. But we have little time to moralize,—as we pass through the many elegantly furnished saloons that surround the Plaza, we find the same excitement, the same noise, bustle and confusion. Clink! clink! clink! ‘‘Hammer away men—hurry up the building—time is money out here—the work must be done this week.’’ So throughout the city; every body in a hurry—they walk in a hurry, and talk and eat in a hurry.

Bang! What is that? Here comes the steamer Oregon. Let us go down to the wharf and see if among her hundreds of passengers we can recognize one familiar face—no, not one—we are alone, as it were, among thousands. But now for our letters—some consolation in hearing from friends at home. But hear! What is that you say? The steamer brought no mail! Bah! what a disappointment to the anxious expectant. I ascended one of the highest eminences around San Francisco, known as Clark's Point, and I could look far out upon the deep blue sea. I could see here and there a sailing ‘‘beating in.’’ In another direction I could see many sloops and schooners sailing across the bay, loaded with passengers bound for the mines. There are two beautiful, almost circular islands in the bay, one of which is supposed to contain immense deposits of Guano. Below lay the city, and its fine harbor, containing already a vast amount of shipping, and back of it a range of hills and mountains. The day was closing, and chilled by the cold night winds peculiar to the climate, I descended, and again mingled with the crowd. —But my time for sight seeing was expended. I had to prepare for another trip, and leave this city replete with the elements of future greatness and prosperity, with good and bad men, thoroughgoing men, who deserved success for their enterprise, perseverance and self-denial, and be off for the mines. I bade farewell to the good old ship that carried me safely to port amid furious storms and raging seas—the old ship that held firm during the severe storms that beat hard against her—the staunch old vessel that acquitted herself so handsomely, (as the sailors express it,) and being among entire strangers—men from different parts of the States, of various characters and dispositions—I could not but feel sad as I looked upon her for the last time."

Gold mining areas highlighted in yellow on this vintage map inset

Map showing relation of Stockton, CA to San Francisco. L. M. Schaeffer would travel here from San Francisco to reach the "southern" California mines

​​CHAPTER VI.—OFF FOR THE MINES.
‘‘Jump aboard, men! Don't you see that black cloud rising there? Hurry up—we must cross the bay before the storm overtakes us.’’ We hurried aboard, hoisted the anchor, and away our little schooner cut through the water ‘‘like a thing of life.’’ But the storm overtook us, and the wind blew hard, tossing our little schooner up and down the angry waves. She rocked to and fro, was pitched upon her starboard side, and she cracked and strained as though she would break into a thousand pieces. But we weathered the storm safely, and soon lost sight of San Francisco. We were bound for Stockton, on our way to the southern mines. Our party consisted of fourteen men, each of whom, myself excepted, were accustomed to manual labor, and they feared that I could not endure the  exposure, and lacked the physical strength necessary for a ‘‘miner;’’ but it proved in the end that the ‘‘battle is not always to the strong, nor the race to the swift.’’ About 8 A. M. we lay to; towards daylight a breeze springing up, we up anchor and sailed onward. We passed Benecia, a most lovely location for a town. The numerous and abrupt hills back of the village, gave a pleasing charm to the view, all of which, as far as the eye could reach, were covered with wild oats and barley. There were several United States men-of-war and merchant ships riding at anchor, and it was thought this would become a naval station. As we sailed on we saw two shanties on the shore, which I was told constituted the city of ‘‘New York on the Pacific.’’ At length we entered the mouth of San Joaquin river, a stream so narrow that I could toss from the vessel a pebble on either shore, and so shallow that not only our little craft, but others we passed, were occasionally aground, and had to wait until the tide floated us off. Another night on board, but no sleep for any of the passengers. The myriads of musquitoes that infest the Tule, a plant growing luxuriantly in the marshes along the river, seemed to have all assembled on board our vessel; and as they were exceedingly affectionate, I could hear the passengers continually battling with their musical friends, and I longed for the light of another day.

Morning came, but the heat was so oppressive, that my condition was not much improved. I noticed large numbers of ducks, grouse, cranes, &c., flying about, and many of the passengers wished they had guns at hand, and I even, thought if one of the feathery flock would alight, and let me place the muzzle of the gun within a foot of it, I could pop it over too. We passed the ‘‘lone tree,’’ appropriately so called, for I could see no other tree within a long distance of it.—The ground about here seemed fit for pasturage, and doubtless by this time, through the indomitable energy of the American settlers, yields abundant harvests. The natives are too indolent and trifling to dig a foot of ground. During the afternoon we espied Stockton, but the wind had almost died away, so we made but slow progress, and we tacked, pulled ropes, pitched canvass, and fussed about as though we were on board some large clipper. Every skipper or captain that I ever knew seemed proud of his vessel, no matter what the size or proportions. We finally reached our landing place, and lost no time in getting out our baggage and deserting the little vessel. The town consisted of a few adobe houses and tents; in each of which liquor was dispensed and card playing going on. I observed a few miserable specimens of the native Indians loitering about, and as Stockton was the starting point for all travelers to the mines, there were many adventurers collected together, and each man would anxiously inquire for the best location to visit, the distance, route, &c. &c.

Early Stockton, CA

There were no distinctions in society; dress did not indicate wealth or poverty. The most filthy and ragged looking ‘‘ombre’’ might have the biggest pile. Now commences the first lesson as a ‘‘California miner.’’ Poles were cut for the tent to be pitched, then firewood was brought, and then for our first meal, cooked by ourselves—let me see, what had we? Coffee as black as charcoal, pork as salt and fat as could possibly be, bread a little lighter than lead; but it was palatable and relished by all of us. The supper over, I stretched my blanket on the dusty ground, sought sleep and found it.

Another day came round, and we prepared for our tramp to the mines. We engaged a team to carry our baggage to the auriferous districts, distant about seventy miles, for which we agreed to pay the ‘‘moderate sum’’ of fifteen cents per pound. About noon we struck our tent and made ready to travel towards the mines, on my favorite animal, shank's mare! Away we went. Whew! wasn't it hot. The road dusty, scarcely any shade, and what trees we saw always happened to be out of our path. So long pent up on board the ship, my feet were almost too tender for the journey, and when we halted for the night,  I was, like the others, glad enough to throw my blankets on the cold ground, and seek rest and sleep, which was delicious to me. About 2 o'clock we awoke, partook of ‘‘a hasty cup of tea,’’ and marched forward, intending to rest during the day. The very ground was cracked open, the weeds were shriveled up, and the numerous toads and serpents we passed seemed the color of the earth, for this was the dry season, and dry enough it was. On we traveled, panting, sweating and grumbling, and almost worn out, till at last we reached a beautiful stream called Stanislaus river, into which we plunged ‘‘sans ceremonie,’’ and crossed to the opposite shore, when we quickly divested ourselves of our dirty and wet clothing, and plunged into the welcome river, fairly kissing with joy the pure and cooling waters as they gently flowed by us. We halted on its bank for the night, the dust at least two feet deep.

At early dawn we again gathered up our blankets and traveled on. Occasionally we would stop and gaze at the beautiful and picturesque scenery surrounding us. Towards noon we came within sight of our stopping place. I could hear the rattle of the many washing machines; I could see the men digging, hauling and washing the dust containing the precious metal, and no one appeared idle. Dig, dig, pick, pick, shovel, shovel, was the order of the day, and I wondered how I could stand the hard, incessant labor necessary to achieve success. I kept on and noticed the many tents stretched along the banks of the Tuolumne river, and I sat down upon a rock, shaded by a sycamore, to rest myself from my tedious journey. Sleep seized me, and when I awoke, the miners had quit work for the day. The noise had ceased, and I felt indeed ‘‘like one who treads alone some banquet hall deserted.’’ I sought the tent, under which I expected to repose for the night; but the arrangements were not completed, so with others of the party, I stretched my blankets on the ground, myself upon them, and slept soundly until morning, when we arranged our tent and sallied out in search of some suitable spot to commence mining operations, and the peculiarities and hardships of a miner's life I will describe in the next chapter."

​​CHAPTER VII. --LIFE AT THE MINE
"Hawkins' Bar, afterwards dignified by the appellation of Hawkinsville, was beautifully situated on the Tuolumne river, a narrow stream which gently flowed along, its course about as straight as a Virginia fence. Hawkinsville contained a population of about one thousand men; not a single woman or child within fifty miles of the place. The hardy miners ‘‘dwelt not in marble halls,’’ but under the fragile covering of 10 cent muslin. Preachers, doctors, lawyers, mechanics and laboringmen cooked their provisions, mended and washed their clothing; and not unfrequently a man who had been classically educated, and perhaps had been professor of belles lettres in some college, might have been seen turning his ‘‘slap jacks’’ dexterously in the frying pan, or sitting on an old stump mending his breeches. All the citizens were on an equality; and not unlikely, the boisterous sailor was the most successful miner. After the day's work was over, some would engage in reading the Scriptures, singing hymns, and talking of their homes and future prospects; whilst others, less considerate, would gamble, get drunk, carouse and make night hideous by their screams and incessant firing of guns and pistols.

Our party were always up and preparing breakfast before the stars had disappeared, and would sit around the camp-fire, smoking pipes, awaiting the dawn of day. And what a life to lead! what hardships, exposures and self-denials men undergo for the sake of money. We were not very successful in our mining operations, and when reports reached us that blacksmiths were wanted at Stockton at $16 per day, those of our party who were smiths, evinced a disposition to acceptthe offer, and leave the mines, which were not remunerative. The smoke of discontent soon burst into a flame; a division of property was demanded, and our ‘‘Mutual Beneficial Association,’’ which was to continue at least six months, was, like all California parties, numbered among ‘‘the things that were.’’ I soon found that ‘‘might makes right,’’ and I was told to vacate the tent and its conveniences at once. Too glad to escape from men so uncongenial and selfish, I made no complaint; like the studious owl, I said nothing, but kept up a deal of thinking. A neighbor offered me the use of his tent and board at nine dollars per week, which I accepted, and soon had my bed and et ceteras transferred to his establishment, the bill of fare to consist of salt pork of questionable age, musty crackers and tip top coffee, provided some body knew how to make it. However, I relished the food and never enjoyed better health. The climate is so pure that, exposed as I was, to all kinds of weather, hard work, and no proper shelter or conveniences, I could not in any other part of America have enjoyed better health. With only a knife, broken pick and pan, did I, day after day, search for the glittering metal, secreted amid rocks, crevices and dirt. The general custom was to dig down until a stratum of earth was reached, which indicated the presence of gold. The earth was then shoveled into the box on top the rocker, water was constantly poured upon it, whilst the rocker was shaken to and fro; at night that left in the bottom of the cradle was carefully scooped up, and washed in a pan, and the profits of the day's labor soon known.

Miners at Hawkinsville

Present-day Hawkinsville, CA

The Tuolumne River

"Some of the miners conceived the idea that the bed of the river contained the richest deposits of gold. A company was formed, a canal dug, a dam constructed, and the water was to be turned from its natural channel. Now were the men excited, and with three cheers the water was turned into the canal, and every one anxiously waited the time to examine the bed of the river, which had been undisturbed, peradventure, for ages. The order to begin work was announced the next morning, and the one hundred men, comprising the ‘‘Tuolumne River Mining Company,’’ began to dig up rocks and mud, and the rattle, rattle, of the many cradles, resounded through the adjacent forests, causing the untutored Indian to look with affright at the busy scene before him. The result of the day's labor yielded to the Company the most gratifying evidence of success, and each man, as he threw himself upon his blanket to rest from the arduous labors of the day, could scarcely sleep, so excited was his mind, hoping that in a few weeks he could return to his friends in the States well rewarded for his enterprise, &c. But ‘‘This world is all a fleeting show, For man's illusion 39 given,’’ for next day the rain poured down incessantly, the river rose rapidly, and by night the artificial dam was washed adrift, and the hard labor of weeks was destroyed in a few hours. But men who had become accustomed to disappointment and mishaps were not the persons to despair—no such words as ‘‘give up’’ to be found in their vocabulary. When the storm ceased they recommenced the construction of the dam, and their ultimate success emboldened others at the various mining districts to, not only turn the course of rivers, but to dig down hills, banks, and accomplish almost incredible feats of labor, using only pick, shovel and hammer for their tools. Solicited by an acquaintance, who was working a profitable claim, to assist him in getting out ‘‘dirt,’’ prior to the filling up the claim with water, (the season of rain and storms had now set in,) I consented, and early next morning was busy digging in a hole at least twenty feet deep. From unmistakable indications, I inferred, this was not the safest place, for as the rain poured down loosening the earth, I feared the banks would cave in. I noticed also a large stone projecting at the top of the bank, and expressed myself unwilling to work much longer: however, I continued the day out, and was glad to rest my bruised and aching limbs at night.

In the morning I was at my post again, but emphatically informed my friend, Mr. S_______d, of Georgia, that I could not in justice to myself and those I had left at home, risk my life under such threatening circumstances. Mr. S_______d changed my work, remarking at the same time that he had left a wife and six children in Georgia, that he valued his life, and the happiness and peace of his family as much as I did or could; and that I was totally unacquainted with such work; that he had more experience, and knew there was no danger. But alas! how often are men mistaken! How little they know what an hour may bring forth! My duty was now to carry stones and dirt in a bag, on my shoulder to the rockers, about twenty yards distant, and the first step I took, I slipped, and my foot pressed clear through my shoe. On I kept, and when I was about to tumble the load down, I hardly remember which fell first, the bag or myself, and a more mud-bespattered individual is rarely to be seen. Of course, my fall and appearance caused the crowd to shout with laughter. The next load I succeeded in getting down more easily, (because it was lighter,) but as I was about to return, some one called out hastily, ‘‘Here, here, doctor, doctor, come quick; the bank has caved in, burying poor Sherwood—run!’’ We all started off and found, just as I had predicted, the bank caved in, poor Sherwood covered up entirely, and Dr. P_______, of New York buried to the waist. We pulled the doctor out, who, although much bruised, was not seriously hurt, and we then rapidly and cautiously sought for Sherwood. The crowd assembled around were painfully excited; not a word was spoken. We all feared the worst, but still hoped.

At last I espied the hat of the unfortunate man; and I saw the brains scattered around, and discovered that the very stone he was warned to look out for, had killed him! We raised the cold and inanimate body, and slowly and sadly carried it to the tent, which he had left but a short time previous in good health, good humor and happy anticipations. The grave was dug on a hill near by, shaded by a wide-spreading oak, and those of us who knew him best and worked with him, followed his lifeless remains to the grave as mourners. The beautiful and impressive burial service of the Episcopal church was read, and we departed for our homes, filled with sadness and melancholy at the untimely fate of one who was suddenly hurled into eternity, far from his family, his home and his kindred. Requiescat in pace. My landlord informed me that, in consequence of the high price and scarcity of provisions, and the impossibility of receiving supplies, on account of the wretched condition of the roads, ‘‘he could not board me any longer.’’ This was bad news for me, and the only hotel in the place could offer me no relief, for their boarders took their meals in the open air, and slept wherever they could. I concluded to hitch up my reliable shanks' mare and start for San Francisco. Meeting an acquaintance who was also anxious to leave, we soon disposed of every article we did not absolutely require, and prepared to start in a couple of days. I could leave this place without any regrets, for I left no one to mourn after, and I knew of no particular spot to cause me to regret parting from. Not so in other portions of California, of which I will speak hereafter."

In late November of 1849, Schaeffer would leave Hawkinsville and return to San Francisco for the opportunity to try his luck in the northern mines. The bulk of the chapters to follow, 9-41, discuss his time at the Feather Creek, Deer Valley and Nevada Mines in Nevada City. He colorfully depicts his love for a newfound remote life in the mountains.

In July 1850, our subject decided to leave the Nevada Mountains to take a voyage to the tropics. He would visit Mexico and Acapulco and Vera Cruz. Schaeffer wrapped up his "vacation" from mining with a stop in El Realejo (Nicaragua) and another in Guatemala. He returned to San Francisco in December, only to head back into the interior of the Sierra-Nevada Mountains and take up mining for gold again, but would also partake in searching for silver and quartz. Schaeffer spent 1851 and early 1852 back in the vicinity of Nevada City and nearby Grass Valley.

1851 Map of California showing Nevada City (as Nevada on Map)

Nevada City, CA 1852

Grass Valley (Centerville)

I think I have given you enough fodder from Schaeffer's book, and have included button below to connect you to a pdf file of the entire 247-page book found on the Library of Congress' website. You can also seek out the original book from several vintage booksellers online.

L. M. Schaeffer's "Sketches of travels in South America, Mexico and California."

"The sun still lingered below the eastern horizon, the miners had not yet aroused from their slumbers, when, on the 25th of April, 1852, I stepped out of my humble cabin and looked around the valley where I had dwelt so many months—where I had worked, toiled, hoped and prayed. It was my last morning at the mines, my last look around a spot where I had enjoyed much pleasure, and had formed many agreeable acquaintances. But at length the population gradually awoke from their slumbers, the lurid smoke from the numerous cabins began to ascend, and I gave a last look around the rude cabin that had sheltered me for many a night. I gazed again and again, and still once more, for the last time, upon the trees which I had planted, and with a sincere, heartfelt good bye, raised my bundle, turned away and left my California home forever! I had engaged a seat in an uncovered wagon bound for Sacramento. Bidding a cordial farewell to friends standing around, I jumped to my seat beside the driver, who cracked his whip, and away we drove ‘‘over the hills and far away,’’ and I could scarcely realize the fact that at last, after a long and tedious absence, after days of hoping and toiling, that I was on my way home. "

Luther M. Schaeffer had completed his mining days. After a three-year expedition, he returned to San Francisco by way of "Rough & Ready" and Sacramento and headed back home to Maryland choosing the Isthmus of Panama route. He sailed upon the (later, ill-fated) SS Winfield Scott to Panama City. Once there in Panama he had to take a small boat and a train to get to the Gulf of Mexico. This included a harrowing journey on the Chagres River aboard a small boat Schaeffer called a "dug-out" used to transport him and others through alligator infested waters. Once at Colon, another steamer would transport him the rest of the way back to New York City.

Mail awaiting L M Schaeffer in San Francisco as advertised in the Daily Alta of San Francisco, California (Feb 6 1852)

The SS Winfield Scott was a sidewheel steamer that transported passengers and cargo between San Francisco, California and Panama in the early 1850s, during the California Gold Rush. After entering a heavy fog off the coast of Southern California on the evening of December 1, 1853, the ship crashed into Middle Anacapa Island. All 450 passengers and crew survived, but the ship was lost. Winfield Scott has been the object of numerous salvage operations since the crash, and currently rests underwater as part of the Channel Islands National Park and Marine Sanctuary. The Winfield Scott wreck site is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Passage through Panama included natives navigating travelers through the Chagres River.

Luther M. Schaeffer landed in New York on June 4th, 1852. He concluded his book in New York and made no mention of when he returned to Frederick. We do know that he was here on February 16th, 1853, because this was the day he married Ann Rebecca Late at Evangelical Lutheran Church. The couple had the following children: George Late Schaeffer (1854-1859), William Luther Schaeffer (1856-?), Ella Virginia Schaeffer (1857-1934), Elizabeth Rebecca Schaeffer (1862-1949) and Nannie Everetta Schaeffer (1866-1933).

Soon after his return to Frederick, L. M. Schaeffer conducted a drugstore at the northeast "corner" of North Market and East Patrick streets. He advertised regularly in the local newspapers and oftentimes had several classified-sized messages in play in the same edition.

All these ads are from the Sept 23, 1857 edition of the Frederick Examiner

L M Schaeffer and family shown living in Frederick in 1860 Census

Maryland Union (Feb 16, 1860)

Maryland Union (Oct 30, 1862)

Frederick Examiner (July 8, 1863)

In addition to making a name for himself as a leading druggist and businessman in town, Luther was now getting recognition as an author. Book shops in Frederick and elsewhere were selling his penned reminisces about the California Gold Rush and observations on Mexico and South America.​ All this, while the American Civil War was in full effect with the nearby Battles of South Mountain and Antietam just six months away.

Maryland Union (March 27, 1862)

Schaeffer and his business would make it through the war. He would eventually relocate, moving to Philadelphia, likely partnering with his brother there in the drugstore business. This was about 1867. However, the "brotherly" venture must not have been that "lovely," or to his liking, as he returned to Frederick a few years later and set up shop in a Market Street storeroom of Mr. John Walters, a junk and salvage man. 

​A search of deeds in the name of Luther M. Schaeffer only shows that he ever owned one property in Frederick, and this was 220 East Church Street, purchased in 1859, He would sell this to his mother-in-law, Maria Late, in 1867, apparently after he had moved to Philadelphia. (Note: The current house at this address dates to the 1880s). Amazingly, there were no leases of business locations for Schaeffer recorded in Frederick deed books.

The gray home in the middle is located at 220 E. Church St in Frederick and was once owned by L M Schaefer

The Schaeffer family as they appear in the 1870 US Census

Frederick Examiner (June 29, 1870)

Frederick Examiner (Aug 10, 1870)

At the time of the 1870 Census, all seemed to be going quite well for the former gold miner. He had recently returned to town from Philadelphia and opened his new location on North Market Street, directly across from the Frederick Market House, today the site of Brewers Alley Restaurant. However, he would suffer a tragic demise in late summer, exactly one month before his "49th" birthday. The date was Friday, August 26th, and Luther was working at his drugstore. News of the circumstances of his death were carried in both Frederick newspapers, the Frederick Examiner and the Maryland Union.

Frederick Examiner (Aug 31, 1870)

Maryland Union (Sept 1, 1870)

Did that three-year adventure into the "Wild West" play a factor into Luther M. Schaeffer's health? We will never know. If anything else, he had the remedies to help himself at arms-reach. Regardless, Schaeffer, a bonafide 49er, author and "world traveler" would be laid to rest in Mount Olivet's Area F/Lot 64. His son, George Late Tyler, had been buried here 11 years earlier, dying July 24th, 1859 at age 5 and a half years old. His beloved wife, Ann Rebecca (Late) Schaeffer would not die until January 17th, 1906, over 35 years later.

One of the couples' daughters, Elizabeth Rebecca T. Schaeffer never married and lived to be 86. She was living in San Jose, CA at the time of her death, but her body was brought eastward to be buried in the family plot. I'm assuming the trip her mortal remains endured in the year 1949 between California and Maryland was far more efficient and faster than that experienced by her father a century before.

An ironic newspaper mention found and pertaining to our subject appeared the same day as his obituary in the Frederick Examiner. A new operator introduced themselves at the site of the former drugstore of Luther M. Schaeffer on the Square Corner.

Frederick Examiner (Aug 31, 1870)

A few months later, a young, former Confederate veteran by the name of Dr. Samuel Franklin Thomas (1842-1907) would lay claim to the re-established business and new location vacated with the sudden death of Luther M. Schaeffer.

Frederick Examiner (Oct 5, 1870)

Frederick Examiner (Oct 5, 1870)