Odd Old News: In Which Plans for Ferndale’s Fourth of July Parade Created a Masterpiece of Rage Writing

Parade in Ferndale on July 4, 1911. [Photo from HSU library Humboldt Room Palmquist]

In years past, newspapers would allow and publish as articles opinion pieces from its readers who usually wrote anonymously or under an alias. Apparently, short of slander, nameless character assassination was allowed, and this week’s Odd Old News offers up an epic example of rage communication from “78”.

Frustrated by the town’s deliberations with Fourth of July preparations, one man wrote an over-the-top diatribe in the 1878 Ferndale Enterprise in which he called out and excoriated a few men who he felt had a habit of obstructing and ruining civic matters. His hyperbolic venting approaches Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest levels as he took aim at what he deemed a few “miserable curs” who had insinuated their way into the genteel society of an otherwise “honest and noble dealing” Ferndale populace.

The Ferndale Enterprise had just started up in 1877–perhaps they were feeling their way–by 1883 they had the largest circulation of any newspaper in the county. At the risk of inspiring online trolls near a full moon, we share a highly negative rant–hopefully, some of the Redheaded Blackbelt readers will find some humor in reading such a classic example of purple prose public catharsis.

Ferndale Enterprise
June 21, 1878
SEVENTY-EIGHT’S LETTER
EDITOR ENTERPRISE:–…

The last week has been one of war, backbiting and slanderous remarks, loud and deep, concerning the state of affairs connected with the Fourth of July celebration. I meditated for a while whether I should not give another letter on “Match and Overmatch” for I think that the material abounds in great quantities. For the last weeks there has been a continuous smoke of denunciations, which, in their bitterness and malignity of expression, would leave a wake in the horrible court of hell. It matters not what may be commenced here, some one will oppose; no matter what project may be set afloat; some one will denounce it. If a man undertakes to build up the town, those few reading, sniveling, moral imbeciles—Janus-faced friends—concoct, through their devilish machinations, a tirade of falsehoods and then attempt to heap odium upon that one. They are a class who are forever planning, designing and slandering their superiors. They walk the streets polluting the very sidewalks with their contaminating carcasses; the very breath emanating from their putrid hearts disseminates discontent in a community and the false misrepresentations which they utter would surpass the conception of a demon.

The meanest of the mean, the lowest of the low, the one ’neath the blood-stained hand of the assassin, is the one who will shake hands in friendship, and then misrepresent you behind your back. The lost soul in endless torment, is surer of heaven; the filthiest blackguard is more of a gentleman; the dirtiest pigmy is more of a warrior; the vilest thief has more honor; the deepest dyed villain, confined in a felon’s cell, is more worthy of trust; the reeking hyena is better qualified to receive confidence than he who pretends to be a friend, who meets you with a shake of the hand, with bland smiles bid you welcome, but when away hurls falsehoods and insult, bitter and burning upon you. He speaks but to defile, he loves but to destroy, his actions are but squirming of snakes, his touch is filthy contamination, his words are representation of the frightful hieroglyphics adorning the subterranean vault of Pluto’s halls and his heart is of the decomposed matter conglomerated from the purlicus* of darkness. Too mean to consort with reptiles he walks the streets unblushingly and endeavors to drag down to his low level his betters, and, I regret to say, he finds good audiences in the citizens of “Corners,” and sometimes among those who style themselves (God save the name) “bon tons”. This is no idle fancy of the imagination; this is no mere out-pouring of a confused brain; this is no over-wrought language emanating from a perturbed spirit; this is no unfounded attack, based upon a plausible sensation, but a true statement of the actions of a more than one man in this place.

There are two men here who will shake hands, who will speak with cheering words, who will offer kind words of peace, then go forth and talk with a tongue endowed by Satan against you. Two of those men are known to me and I would have no feelings of compunction if I were to name them, and if they continue their meanness, I will do so, and let this community have a fair view of the monsters who are harboring beneath the folks of society and deriving the sustenance of the life from the larger community. Alas, for genteel society, when such miserable curs gain admission to it; they enter but to foment; they gain acquaintances but to deceive, and their grand aspirations seem to culminate in a tirade of slander.

I do not desire strangers to take these two men as a pattern of all in Ferndale, for we have a class of citizens who can compare favorable with any in the State. We have men here who, for integrity, honest and noble dealing, the second to none in the State. The majority of citizens here are worthy of confidence and friendship, and I hope that the time will come when we can hail the departure or downfall of those incarnate devils. Then and not until, will we have peace…
Ferndale, June 18th, 1878

The writer identifies a saloon “Our Corner” as the hangout for those he castigates. It is unknown whether he is talking about the one in Rio Dell or the one in Eureka. Our Corner saloon in Eureka was located in at the corner of 1st and E streets and is on the National Registry as part of the Eureka Historic District. Here is a photo of how it looked possibly 50 years later, at least post 1933.

Our Corner Saloon, 301 First Street, Eureka, Humboldt County, CA [Wikimedia Commons]

Earlier Odd and Old News:

There are many more, but here are the most recent:

• The Flu Season in Humboldt County in the Winter of 1919-20
• Mountain Lions Come Too Close
• It’s a Gas–A Look at ‘Oil Springs’ and Fuel ‘Escapes’ in Our Local Area
• Mrs Mills’ Bonnet
• Beware the Calathumpians
• Sea Lions Eating Cattle and Exploding Mules–The Stories Seem Mighty Tall Around These Parts
• From Cloverdale to Eureka by Stage
• School Ma’am Letters
• The Diary of a Young School Teacher— Part two