A Ghost of Brother Johnathan's (7 page)

Asking Ozzy to be my cohort in an investigation on the trip to Crescent City was one of my better choices. He was an excellent driver and in his easygoing conversational manner of speaking he gave me a brief and concise history of Crescent City. As it turns out, he grew up there.

According to Ozzy, Crescent City began as a gold mining boomtown in 1848 when gold was discovered on the Trinity River. A land warrant for 230 acres was granted to J. F. Wendell in 1853 and that land grant became the anchor to establishing the town as a center of commerce for the gold rush industry. Then in 1856, the Battery Point Lighthouse was built to accommodate the emerging lumber export industry. From that point forward Crescent City was a primary port for the lumber industry, providing a major shipping harbor supplying construction lumber up and down the Pacific Coast, though San Francisco, to the south, was its largest target market.

Even after the gold rush fizzled, the lumber boom continued for 100 years, supplying building lumber for the population explosion that came after World War II. Then, in 1964 a devastating tsunami hit Crescent City. In four massive, all-consuming waves of unprecedented ocean surge, the result of a magnitude 9.2 earthquake in the Pacific Ocean, most of the downtown business, industry and residential areas were demolished. That tsunami took twelve lives.

History repeated itself to a lesser degree on March
11, 2011, when the Japan earthquake of a magnitude
9.0 caused another tsunami. This time it was the harbor construction that was damaged and one life was lost.
The
Brother Jonathan
shipwreck of 1865 remains one of the most intriguing disasters to hit the Crescent City coastline, not only because of the lost of life but because of the controversy surrounding the cause of the shipwreck. Ozzy reminded me that many conspiracy theories exist and he personally had heard that one such theory was the involvement of the Knights of the Golden Circle.
“You do know that Jesse James was a high-ranking member of the KGC?” Ozzy commented.
“I’ve always understood that to be the case. Did you know there were two Jesse James and that they were cousins. In the South, specifically Mississippi where I’m from, it was, and still is, a long-held belief that the two cousins operated in unison to create confusion as to the Jesse James identity and whereabouts. So, Ozzy, do you think Jesse James, be it one cousin or the other, was involved in the
Brother Jonathan
shipwreck?”
Ozzy’s eyes were focused on the highway straight ahead of us. The subtle movement of his head, from side to side, indicated to me he was giving my question serious consideration.
He glanced in my direction and then said, “Could be. Jesse James was brilliant in his covert operations, be it robbing and thieving or masterminding KGC operations. Can’t say I ever came across documentation that could prove Jesse James had been in California, but then, a lack of documentation is not proof he was never here. At that time, it was well known about the wealth the
Brother Jonathan
had on board, not just government money for payroll to the Union forces, either. There was gold on board that was meant as payment to California Indians for use of their land. Also of consideration is the private wealth of some of the dignitaries and the infamous that had booked passage. By our frame of reference today, some of those passengers were rock stars.” “Like President Lincoln’s personal physician?” I queried.
“Yes. Cannot imagine that a dedicated Confederate sympathizer wouldn’t like to see him disappear,” Ozzy answered.
“Ozzy, then it may not have been just for the wealth, but rather for the political gain that a person, or persons, would deliberately sabotage the
Brother Jonathan
?”
“Could be, could be many different reasons to sabotage that ship. Also, could just have been fate brought about by stupidity and reckless decisions. A popular theory is that the ship was way over capacity in its weight. Some fool accepted a bribe to load a circus with stock and performing animals. A ship that size had no business taking on cargo the likes of elephants and wild cats. Anyway, once we get to the museum, I advise not mentioning our conversation. The conspiracy theories are too much of a sore spot with the museum staff. Too much hearsay and speculation.”
“Thanks. I’ll take your advice. Besides, what I really want to discover is more about Jonathan Rupp’s life before he moved to Eureka. His earlier years,” I said. “Now, that’s a topic that will be popular, so follow my lead. The curator that is on duty is an old acquaintance. I’ll get him on topic and let you take it from there,” Ozzy suggested.
“Hey, I like having you as my wingman.” That got a chuckle out of Ozzy. “We’re here.” Ozzy parked in front of a one-story cement block building that had windows set high across the front, allowing light to pour in, but obstructing a view from the outside in. We got out and entered through a doubledoor. From the front hall I could see that the museum was one large room to the left and a hallway to the right. A sign on the wall to the right indicated that public restrooms and business offices were down the hall. The interior was standard for this type of community museum, light blue walls and overhead office-style lighting. Except for a brown carpet at the entry, the floors were hardwood.
A man with black hair and a dark complexion came to greet us. He shook Ozzy’s hand and then introduced himself to me.
“Miss Delaney, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Daniel Teeter and I’ve known Ozzy my entire life. His son Ron is a good friend of mine, we went to school together.” Daniel’s hazel eyes shone with warmth. I guessed him to be in his early forties.
“I’m pleased to meet you, too.” I cut to the chase. “I’m particularly interested in information you have about Jonathan Rupp, especially his life here in Crescent City.”
“Yes, Ozzy said that in his phone call. Coincidentally, we had just taken down a display about Rupp and had not put it away, yet. We rotate our displays. I was able to pull out all the contents, and if you will follow me, I have everything laid out in one of our private rooms.” We followed Daniel down the hall. About half way from the front, he opened the door to a large room and we went in. Here, on two side-by-side, long conference tables were the display items. Daniel gave each of us a pair of white cotton gloves.
“If you do not mind, I have a telephone conference I must attend to in a few minutes. I’ll leave you here, and check back with you when I am finished. By no means do I mean to hurry you. I’ll be here for the next three hours.”
Ozzy thanked Daniel for his hospitality and assured him we would be diligent in our careful handling of the materials. Daniel left, locking the door behind him. I looked to Ozzy. “We hit the jackpot in research luck. I barely know where to begin.”
Let’s begin at the beginning, to the left over there. When I called Daniel, he told me he would set out the items in chronological order, left to right.”
We approached the left side of the display. My first look at the miscellaneous items told me that Jonathan Rupp had quite a history here in Crescent City, but by the representation of this display, his life was ordinary, even a bit dull. I had mixed feelings about this revelation, only because it seemed that in Eureka, Jonathan Rupp’s life story was anything but dull. It was as if Eureka owned all that was spectacular about the Rupp legend. Now, before me, laid out on these two tables, was a different part to the story of Brother Jonathan Rupp, and as ordinary as this display was, it was an eye-opener, to say the least.
I picked up a badly worn photograph that was sandwiched between two layers of acid-free glass. Three people stared back at me from a time portal of over 130 years ago. True to the technology of the time period, each person was posed in a stiff arrangement. Lacking the dimensional quality of modern photographs, the people appeared unnaturally two-dimensional, resembling paperdoll cutouts. Only their faces, which were frozen in time, gave a hint to their personality and relationship.
I recognized Jonathan Rupp immediately, he looked to be about twenty-five years old at the time. He sat on the top step of a porch of a nicely built home, to his right sat a much older woman, maybe his foster mother. She had a gentle face and leaned slightly toward Jonathan, it was a protective and fond physical gesture any parent would recognize. This simple pose brought happiness to my heart. Jonathan was loved and cared for. So too was the little girl Jonathan held in his arms. I was completely and utterly charmed by the fact that the little girl, who could not have been more than five years old, was the spitting image of Jonathan Rupp.
Jonathan Rupp had a daughter?

He held it in his right hand and brought it closer to his face, he flipped the frame over. “There’s no notation, only this little index label at the back of the frame. Let’s ask Daniel if he has information about it.” Ozzy turned the photo over again and stared at the front. He exhaled a low whistle and then said, “That little girl sure looks like Rupp. Do you suppose she is his child?” He handed the photo back to me and I carefully set it back on the table.

“I have a hunch she is. Yet, Marta said nothing in regard to Rupp being married or having a family. In fact, I recall she specifically said he never married and never had children. Could it be that she doesn’t know about this little girl?” I asked.

“Sure, anything is possible. Remember that her family was back east when Rupp died and when her ancestor did come out here, well… if no person in Eureka knew about Rupp having a family, then no person would have informed Marta’s ancestor of it. Back then, the eightyfour miles between Crescent City and Eureka was a long journey, several days on horseback and an even longer trip by buggy.”

City, such as a wife or this little girl, as Rupp’s daughter, have been informed of his death, somehow?” I countered.

“Let’s do the math,” Ozzy suggested. “Rupp was born in 1850, he was about fifteen years old when the
Brother Jonathan
ship wrecked and he was then stranded here in Crescent City. He was taken in, fostered so to speak of, by a married couple, probably the lady in that photo is his foster mother. Rupp learned a trade of commercial drawing and art from his foster father. Then, by all accounts I ever heard of, it wasn’t until he was about forty years old that he moved to Eureka and bought the land and built the tavern sometime before or about 1900. So, in looking at that photo, how old do you think he is and how old do you think the child is?”

“I’d say the little girl is about five and Rupp is about twenty-five,” I answered.
“I was thinking along those lines, too. Okay, so that means, by the time Rupp moved to Eureka the little girl wasn’t so little. She would be in her late teens or early twenties and given the lifestyle of that period, the 1890s, she probably had already married.”
“If that were the case, wouldn’t Rupp have notified his family back east about having a child? Looking at the photo, he appears to be a loving and proud papa,” I asked.
Ozzy stroked his nonexistent beard, a habit I have come to understand that men do when they are deep in thought. “Yeah, that part doesn’t make sense. One would think he would have written letters to his family back east, telling them about his daughter.”
“Also, Ozzy, wouldn’t a daughter have known that something had happened to her father. The two cities aren’t so far away from each other that she would not have received news of Rupp’s death, at sometime, somehow.”
In what I call a confused huh-uh gesture, Ozzy shook his head side to side and then commented, “Sure is a passel of mysteries we’ve got going.”
“I agree, hopefully Daniel can shed some light on this. Anyway, do you see anything else that is a lead, or at least a clue to follow up on?” I asked.
Ozzy pointed to a large collection of trade cards, more examples of what Marta had shown me last night. “Those are interesting. I know Marta has some like them. They represent how Rupp made his living here in Crescent City, and in his early years in Eureka, too.”
We stood in front of a large framed display of dozens of circus and stage-performance trade cards. Each one a superb example of Rupp’s fine artwork. In shared solitude we studied the cards. Below the framed cards were a few loose cards spread out on the table top, each one in its own plastic sleeve.
“Look at this one,” Ozzy pointed to one of the loose cards.
I picked up the card. It was finely drawn and colored and it depicted a beautiful young woman, dressed in an elegant gown, she was posed on a stage. The caption read:
Enchantress Ella Dazi, Sweet Songstress of the Pacific Coast.
I admit, my mind did some quick matrixing, but by no mistake did I recognize the young adult face of the little girl that was shown in the photo with Jonathan Rupp sitting on the porch. I held the card up close to Ozzy and asked, “Could this be the same girl, and she is all grown up?”
“I do believe it could be.”
“Have you ever heard of Ella Dazi?” I asked Ozzy.
“No. At least not that I can remember. It’s an unusual name. I’m pretty sure that had I ever heard of it, especially in connection with Rupp, I’d remember.”
I turned back around to return the single card to the table, and at the moment, the door opened, it was Daniel.
“Everything okay in here?” he asked.
Ozzy was quick to answer, “Yes. Daniel can you tell us anything about this photo?” Ozzy reached over and picked up the photo. He handed it to Daniel.
Daniel reversed the photo. “There’s an index tab here. I can run this through our computer and get whatever information we have on it. I’ll be right back.” He left the room.
I now had my back to the table. I feigned tiredness, gave a deep sigh and took a step back to lean on the table. Then with my left arm resting behind me, for support, I snatched the loose card of Ella Dazi and with Ozzy’s attention still focused on objects at the other end of the table, I turned quarter profile wise and slipped the card into my blazer pocket. I turned to face Ozzy, and said, “For now, regardless of the information Daniel can, or cannot, provide about the photo, let’s not say anything about the Ella songstress card, okay?”
My question did not spark Ozzy’s interest, he nodded and mumbled “Sure. It’s getting late, we should leave soon, okay?”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
Daniel came back. Holding the framed photo up, facing me, he said, “Our documentation states the three people are identified as Mary Templeton, the woman who was a foster mother to Jonathan Rupp, after the shipwreck. Next to her is Jonathan Rupp, and the little girl is named Ella, his daughter. The photo was taken on the porch of the Templeton residence, here in Crescent City, circa 1875. Here, I printed this up for you.”
Daniel handed to me a one-sheet page of notes. “Oh, and that address, that is the Templeton residence, it was one of the few historic homes that survived the storms through the years, it sets on higher ground, a little further from the coastline than most of the other historic homes.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Do you know about Mary Templeton, was she married?”
“She was, though at the time of that photo she was a widow. Her husband was Peter Templeton. He was a master artist, quite successful for that era. He taught Jonathan Rupp the trade.”
“I see. And the little girl, Ella, was Rupp married?”
“Not that I or the museum staff has evidence of. Honestly, the little girl is a mystery to us. I must say, it is not the least unusual to not have documentation on children, that photo is the only photo known to exist of her. Given the era, it’s not at all as it is today, children, even school children would not have had photos taken of them, then. Also, keep in mind that Crescent City was not a major city for family life. It was a rough-hewn town comprised of mining entertainment, lumber commerce and shipyards… all these elements lent to the unsavory lifestyle of the harbor docks. Anything else I may help with?”
Ozzy took that as the opportune moment to say our thanks and take our leave. He gave Daniel a big bear hug and told him he’d been of great assistance. Daniel saw us to the door.
After we got in the car and Ozzy started the engine, he leaned over and said to me, “Be sure to buckle up, it’s a lovely fall afternoon and just in case you want to roll down your window, I wouldn’t want that card you liberated to slip out of your pocket and fly out the window.”
“Rats! I thought I had been sly about it. I suppose now, you’ll report me?”
“Not anytime soon. That card is the best clue we have so far. I doubt if the museum will discover, anytime soon, that it went missing and when the time comes, we can get it back in, unnoticed. No one will be the wiser for it. Let’s go locate that house, what’s the address?”
I handed him the slip of paper. He glanced at it. “I’m familiar with this neighborhood, this house is near the McNulty home on H Street and close to the old United Methodist Church. It’s a church that dates back to the 1800s, and it could be a lead, too. We’re just around the corner from it.”
Ozzy’s sense of adventure was endearing. I giggled out loud and then asked, “Do you plan to just walk up to the home and knock on the door?”
“Sounds like a plan to me. And look, here we are.” Ozzy turned onto H Street from 7th, he parked along the curb near the Methodist Church building. He pointed to the house in question. “Ready?”
We got out and walked up the porch steps to a neatly fashioned door. Ozzy rapped three times. I heard footsteps approach and then the door opened. I wondered what to say as an introduction. Turns out, I was too shocked to say a word, or utter a sound.
“You!” Ozzy gasped.
There stood Marta, right in front of us.
“Yes, me. And for Pete’s sake, don’t stand out there gawking at me. Come in.”
We stepped into a small hallway. To the right was a living room. A black shorthaired cat with six toes on each of its front paws came out to greet us. The cat ribboned itself around my ankles. Had I not been tharned and dazed I would have knelt down and picked it up. Instead, I glared down at Marta.
Unlike me, Ozzy had a voice and he was using it. “Why? Marta? Why? Why send us on some wild goose chase? Have you lost your mind?”
Marta smiled weakly. “I just never imagined you’d put the puzzle pieces together so quickly. After Shannon said she was going with you up to Crescent City, I called off work and drove here as fast as I could. Please, Frank has no idea, no concept whatsoever, of what this is about.”
No concept, no idea… whatsoever…? That darn well sums up my thoughts, too!
“Frank who?” I asked.
“Frank Dazi, the descendant of Jonathan Rupp’s only child, a daughter named Ella Dazi.”