Jeremiah “Doc” Standley arrived in California at the age of eight in 1853. He walked and rode with his family in a small wagon train that left Missouri in the spring and arrived in the golden state in the fall. As a boy he worked alongside his father with all sorts of farm animals, including an episode in which he nursed a failing cow back to good health single-handed. That incident earned him the nickname, Doc, which stuck for life to the degree that many folks didn't recognize the first name given him at birth.
At the age of sixteen Doc leased and worked a cattle ranch. At nineteen he received his first appointment as a deputy sheriff in Mendocino County. Deputy duties continued off and on while Doc returned to school then became a teacher. The on again, off again nature of law enforcement in the 1860s and 70s owed much to the ever shifting county budget. Young deputies, no matter how good (and Doc was exceedingly talented at investigation and tracking of criminals), were let go and re-hired throughout this time period.
Not long after Doc took up school teaching he also commenced a courtship with a brunette from Keithsville, Missouri, named Sarah Charity Clay. The couple married in 1868.
After solving the mysterious murder of a ranch woman living alone, Doc was once again let go in 1874. The Mendocino Dispatch and Democrat reported, “J. M. Standley, our well known and favorably known heretofore deputy sheriff, leaves today for Sherwood Valley, where he means to make a temporary abiding place, on a sheep ranch. We wish him success. One reason for his leaving is the passage of the new salary bill through the Legislature, which Sheriff Chalfant says necessitates his curtailing expenses.”
Doc continued in the sheep business into 1878 as evidenced by occasional citations in newspapers like this from the Ukiah City Press in October, 1878: “Doc Standley of Sherwood Valley purchased ten fine graded Spanish bucks in Cloverdale, which he carried to his farm on Tuesday last.”
Soon thereafter Doc led a party of hunters on a trip through the wilds of northern Mendocino County. Aurelius O. Carpenter, who would soon take over the editorship of the Ukiah City Press, and who had fought with John Brown in Kansas in the 1850s, rode, walked and crawled along with the 1878 hunting party, which included a combination of easterners and locals. Carpenter wrote an account of the adventure:
“There were six of us... First, a young law student from Vermont, Horace C. Howard [a relative of Carpenter], with a blue flannel shirt, white horse, red blanket (patriotic colors), and a pained expression whenever he got in the saddle after the first day's ride. He never had seen a bear or deer in its native wilds, and fairly ached all over to kill either; Walter Maxwell, schoolmaster, eager and sanguine, who had been shooting at jack rabbits all summer, playing they were bear, but had dressed no hides yet; Matt Burnett, another law student, who was up to snuff and deer hunting, and could shoot faster than any deer could catch bullets, so a good many weren't caught; Ike Raper, squatter, cook, sharpshooter, storyteller, and indispensable to any well organized hunting party of the north; our ain self, A.O.C., bugler and champion venison eater, historian and artist; and last, Doc Standley, who went for bear with an old search warrant he had left when he was deputy sheriff, and he didn't carry it in his coat pocket, as I will further relate.
“Supplies were laid in at Willits and consisted, by Walter's orders, of a sack of flour, ten pounds dried apples, sack of salt, fifteen pounds dried apples, bottle of pepper, twelve pounds dried apples, sack of potatoes, eight pounds dried apples, paper of cracked wheat, more apples, two barrels. The rest was dried apples. And dried apples was the best thing we had in camp, only we got out before we were ready to come home. Two horses, two mules, and two drivers hauled the camp equipage, etc., and four on horseback, all armed with Winchester rifles, made a cavalcade that looked like an illicit distilling party in Virginia.
“The first night from Sherwood took us to Ten Mile creek where dried apples and cold water made up what tea, coffee, bacon, bread, etc. lacked. No deer. Up and away at daylight, through forest and chemise, up Rattlesnake Hill and along the ridge to the 'Big Chemise,' beyond Bell Springs, where camp was made and hunting began. Doc and Max met an old buck coming into camp to inquire the news, and were too nervous to let him pass. So they had to pack him in after loading him down with lead.
“Away went the cavalcade to hunt for easier hunting ground... [O]ver yonder we went, and brought up at night at Spruce Grove, with more deer and word that game was plenty five miles further. Here, at Fielders', the wagon was housed, permanent camp was made, and pack saddles and mules connected, and Buck Mountain, near Garberville, was the haven of rest to be found. Just as all noses were turned westward [Joe] Lightfoot met the party and turned them east for Nefus Peak and Poison Camp, for bear and deer, in flocks and droves. Down, down, down, into the very bowels of the earth, went the trail to Pip's Creek, past Jewell's, and up, up, up, upon another backbone... went the trail, and Robinson's Peak offered a night's rest and several deer. The next day across north Eel river and to Ben Arthur's toiled the poor animals, and barley hay rewarded them. The men folk found cream biscuit, apples (not dried), grapes, butter, milk, tomatoes, and two good women to cook them, Mrs. Arthur and Lightfoot, and were rather loathe to start up the mountain for camp life again.
“Up, up, up again, until it seemed as though the summit was never to be, and down the other side to a pre-emption cabin, and camp was made. East of Dobbins creek, and hunting was to commence in earnest. Arthur and Lightfoot had joined the party with dogs, and with them Doc was to go with old Drive and Sounder [Standley's hunting dogs] for bear, on the range of Peabody, French, and Burgess. At daylight the next morning the crack of rifles proclaimed the death of innocent deer, and the baying of hounds told the marauding bear that retribution was near. But not that day. A bear was run clear out of the county, but never caught. Three days was this repeated, and the bear hunting yielded only a panther, two wildcats, a fisher, two pairs of torn pants, and a sore backed mule...”
Carpenter's folksy, informal style of writing a story like this was typical of newspaper editors of the time and region. William Heeser of the Mendocino Beacon and John G. Howell of the Russian River Flag, like A.O., had traveled widely, were well read, but didn't hesitate to print certain events in a manner of speaking and writing familiar to the humblest of readers. Before settling in northern California, Howell had served as a lawman in Idaho. Carpenter had served as the first official city marshal for Ukiah.
Carpenter's hunting tale moves toward conclusion with Doc Standley at the forefront:
“Early [on] Saturday, a bear was jumped, and the dogs bayed him, her, it, or them... Crawling in for a shot started them, and running about four hundred yards they again stopped. But that run had given the dogs a chance to go off on a deer track. All but old Drive, he disdained to follow such trash […] and Doc went on the trail alone. Drive was now baying furiously on a brush covered knoll, and crawling in on his hands and knees, with his Winchester 'warrant' well to the fore, our hunter found himself only sixty yards from a huge grizzly, and noise enough behind her for three or four more. Slowly turning her huge head from dog to man, her ears laid back, hair bristling forward, lips drawn back so as to show three-inch teeth snapping together, the ursa horribilis seemed debating which to eat first, man or dog. Doc studied on the problem as to which was the best plan, to shoot and then be eaten, or run and be eaten anyway. Just as he was about to give it up she turned her head, and a ball from his rifle struck her back of the eye, and with a loud 'woogh,' she rolled down to within forty feet of where he stood, when another ball laid her still. By this time another [grizzly] had come around the end of the log and met a Winchester bullet, and rolled over and down to the first one. Scarcely time to throw the lever forward and back was given when a third came into sight, and for the same cause rolled down against the other two. The fourth came excitedly into view and rolled his head quickly from side to side, looking for his comrades. A bullet broke his neck, and he, too, rolled down to the pile so fast growing. No more coming into sight, Doc emptied his rifle into the still kicking mass of bear, and climbed a tree with a loud 'view haloo' for the others to come and help pack 'em out.
“A Winchester rifle, one man and a dog had piled up in death four grizzly bears, that had been killing on average ten sheep a week for two months. Three of them were yearlings at two hundred pounds weight, and the old one was variously estimated at up to eight hundred pounds. The rest of the camp were in at the skinning, and bear steaks for supper. Leaving Doc to salt the meat and take another day's hunt, we struck out for the wagon road with three horse loads of venison.
“Rain kept us two days at Spruce Grove, where we were made comfortable by Rufus Fielders and his kind lady, where Doc came in with 'b'ar oil,' and meat and hides, and the home hunt began and continued down to Donohue and Reed's ranch, at Ten Mile, where we killed our last deer, a 'splendid buck,' and the next day took us to Doc's house, where we found rest for our weary bones and bread that could be eaten without effort.
“A count was had and our game footed up 4 grizzly bears, 41 deer, 2 panthers, 3 wildcats, 1 fisher, 1 wild boar, and small game too numerous to mention. We brought home 8 fresh deer in the hides, 200 pounds of bear meat, 4 bear hides, 3 gallons of oil, 150 pounds cured deer hams, 350 salted pounds venison, and hides to match our tally. We use bear oil on our ambrosial curls now.
“Nothing could exceed the kindhearted welcome we received at every mountain cabin. Peabody would allow of no camping except in his house, and Mrs. Burgess just begged the privilege of cooking for us anything that we wanted to eat. Green French, Ben Arthur, and others kindly replenished our supplies, and altogether we had a rare good time. But it was hard work, and by the month, at good pay, would have been a sore job. The ridges are too far above the bottoms of the canyons, and bear and deer will stay in the brush.”
Precisely one year later Doc would travel much the same hard country tracking a deadlier human prey, but that is a story for another day and page.
(Grizzly tales worth bearing at: malcolmmacdonaldoutlawford.com.)
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