© Craig MacDonald
Woods Creek, which cuts through canyons and ravines near the western edge of Yosemite , was one of the richest gold streams in the Sierra. But gold wasn't the richest discovery made by three miners during the Christmas Season of 1849.
Sixty years later, Joseph J. McCloskey explained an incredible personal experience, during an interview with a reporter from the San Francisco Call: "Having found gold, we were prosperous when we went to sleep on December 21st. But about midnight, I awoke to find myself swimming under the tent cover. A dam had burst."
McCloskey frantically scrambled to higher ground, where he found the rest of the camp gathered. In the darkness, they could hear the rushing water below sweeping over everything--washing away their gold and hopes.
A dejected McCloskey and two other young miners (known only as Steve and Mat) decided to take their dampened spirits and seek riches elsewhere. As they walked two miles up from Woods Creek, they began enjoying each others company.
Their fourth morning together started off with a chill and Mat suddenly blurted out, "Good Lord boys! Do you know this is Christmas?"
"I felt as if someone had pulled a prop away from under me with a jerk," McCloskey said. "We stared at each other a minute, then looked away. It was Christmas. The land was green and pleasant but it had lost its charm for us. It was the first time I'd been away from my mother on Christmas. I stepped away from my companions, went behind some bushes and cried. But right when I was feeling sorriest for myself, I began to see how selfish and shortsighted I was."
McCloskey returned to his friends and said, "Merry Christmas, Mat and Steve," handing them two little nuggets from his belt that he was saving for his parents. They both smiled. Steve produced a broken-bladed pocketknife for McCloskey and a silk handkerchief for Mat. Mat then gave Steve a jasper watch charm and a little silver pencil to his other pal.
Now feeling much more cheerful, the trio started up the creek again, hungry and feeling like they were 100 miles from anyone else, when all of a sudden, they heard people singing.
"Sweet and true, the melody filtered down to us through the Sierra trees…Adeste Fideles." But where was it coming from? They all looked around but couldn't see anyone, yet they could still hear voices rising and falling in song."
Finally, Steve dashed up a hill and spotted their "angels," who turned out to be four young men from a Boston church choir. They were prospectors, making the most of their Christmas, and the easterners were well-supplied with flour, sugar and bacon. The Massachusetts natives joyfully invited their new found friends to eat with them. They built a fire and cooked flapjacks, bacon, coffee and even cake, baked on a shovel!
"It was a rare feast digested with the aid of talk and laughter," McCloskey fondly remembered. "Everyone had a tale of Christmas to add. We sang old holiday songs again and again—the eyes of each man seeking and finding in the campfire flames, familiar scenes of home far away."
When the blaze had fallen to embers, they shook hands, wished each other one last "Merry Christmas" and fell fast asleep. For James McCloskey and his friends, this had been a Sierra Christmas worth more than gold.
(To read more of Pulitzer Prize nominee Craig MacDonald's true Holiday Stories and to receive an autographed--author and illustrator--book of "Old West Christmas-Tales with a Twist," please send a $25 check, made out to Anderson Art Gallery, and mail to Anderson Art Gallery, P.O. Box 1710, Sunset Beach, CA 90742)
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