W. C. RALSTON.

 

            TO ONE who has any soul, who knew him well, the mention of the name of W. C. Ralston brings a sense of sorrow. From the early days until he died he was more to San Francisco than any other man.

            He had a masterful brain, an unquenchable public spirit. Had he been Aladdin he would have covered the sand hills of San Francisco with palaces and the sea outside with regal ships. Not being an Aladdin, he seemed determined to rival him so far as human genius and energy could.

            When I saw him first he was the agent of a steamship company in Panama. It was in the early fifties. He soon outgrew those surroundings and came to San Francisco. The air of the Golden Coast was elixir to him. He attracted only local notice until, through his ability and energy, he founded the Bank of California.

            The late D. O. Mills had made a little fortune buying gold dust in southern California at San Andreas, I believe then had established a bank at Sacramento, and bore a high name as a shrewd, capable, careful and honest banker. To give the new bank strength Ralston had his associates invite him to the presidency of the California bank ; Ralston to be the immediate local manager. The bank soon obtained the absolute confidence of Californians, and swiftly grew into a great financial institution. It had the best of the local patronage, and through it the Oriental and Australian business was transacted.

            Through Ralston many new industries sprang up in San Francisco ; through him, in the early sixties, Mr. Sharon was able to establish the Branch Bank of California in Virginia City, Nevada, and through him was able to maintain it there when D. O. Mills insisted that it should be closed, as he did not approve of Sharon's management.

            A little later the great lode began to vindicate Sharon's judgment, and within ten years had made Mr. Mills more

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money than he had ever dreamed of possessing. Indeed, it made the whole coast dizzy. Its effect upon W. C. Ralston quickened his old desire for a great city on San Francisco bay into a passion. He bought realty, opened new streets, built new structures, and plunged deeper than a banker, who is custodian of others people's money, ever should.

            Then he had another habit. If a man presented a scheme to him which was backed by full and reliable reports, he had a habit of saying, ''Your scheme looks good; but my time is all occupied with the business of this bank. You go and see _____, or _____; lay your proposition before him and then tell him to call on me and explain it to me." How many such enterprises he put upon their feet, no one knows. I recall one in particular. The late Ike Bateman had a bond on the Northern Belle mine at Candelaria. He went to Ralston, Ralston sent him to General Dodge. The result was that in a day or two Dodge had bought and paid for the mine and proceeded at once to erect a great mill, though before that he was not known to have any money. He made a great fortune from it in the succeeding three years and passed for a shrewd operator, while Ralston's name was not mentioned in connection with the enterprise.

            But Bonanzas are worked out after a while, and the decline of the Comstock began just when the critical time came in the working out of several of Mr. Ralston's problems in San Francisco, and when immense sums had to be provided. The indomitable man struggled against the inevitable for months, but finally the door of the great bank had to be closed.

            A hasty examination of the accounts was made and then D. O. Mills, in his mathematically correct business way, went into Mr. Ralston's private room in the bank and in his tone of icy correctness demanded that he should resign his official position in the bank. Without a word the strong man wrote out his resignation ; then left the bank from the Sansome street side, walked rapidly to North Beach ; was seen to swallow a white powder and then sprang off the wharf into the water, and a little later his lifeless body was recovered.

            Then a great wave of pity swept over San Francisco.

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            Those who had blamed him for the bank's failure, realizing what he had done for the city and all its people, wept like children. But their tears no longer disturbed his calm.

            He was quite six feet in height; carried a great head on ample shoulders, and must have weighed two hundred pounds. He had regular Roman features and his face was always lighted and eyes alert. It was clear, to watch his movements, that he had a tiger's determination, though the tiger was much more given to purring than growling, and that he was driven on by an insatiable energy and supported by a hopeful soul that nothing but the last overwhelming disaster could quench.

            In his social life he was geniality itself and was lavish in his generosity. One sample will give an idea of his ways : When Senator Nye of Nevada was finally denied a re-election, a few gentlemen met on some business in the bank in San Francisco. After the business was transacted and general conversation began, one of those present said : "I am sorry for old man Nye. He is old and poor and now his office has been taken from him ; he is too old to renew the practice of law ; on my soul I am sorry for him."

            While the gentleman was talking Ralston swung 'round to his desk, picked up a pen, wrote a few lines; then tearing off the paper he had been writing upon, he held up a check and said : "I am sorry ten thousand dollars' worth ; how much are you?" In twelve minutes $100,000 was raised and given to the old Senator. He sailed for the East on the next steamer, and the next heard of him, he was wandering, dazed, in a street in Richmond, Va. He died a few months later in an asylum.

            When Mr. Ralston died, the great clergyman. Dr. T. Campbell Shorb, said of him :

            "The loss is a great indescribable calamity to the State. Had I the power I would drape California in the blackest crepe from Siskiyou to San Diego, for he has left us who made California a synonym for princely hospitality and generosity to the uttermost bounds of the universe. His most fitting, touching and eloquent eulogy was pronounced in the question asked in every street of San Francisco: 'Who shall take his place?' His heart was large as the mountain ; he was noble, generous

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and true; his friendship unwavering. Honor, unfailing honor to his memory; peace, everlasting peace to his soul."

            We copy, too, a few words from the eulogy which Hon. Thomas Fitch pronounced at this funeral :

            "His eulogy is written on ten thousand hearts. Commerce commemorates his deeds with her whitening sails and her laden wharves. Philanthropy rings the chimes of all public charities in attestation of his munificence. Patriotism rings paeons for him who, in the hour of the nation's struggle, sent the ringing gold of mercy to chime with the flashing steel of valor. Unnumbered deeds of private generosity attest his secret munificence. Sorrow found solace in his deeds. Despair has been lifted into hope by his voice. There are churches whose heaven-kissing spires chronicle his donations ; schools claim him as their patron ; hospitals own him as their benefactor. He was the supporter of art ; science leaned on him while her vision swept infinitely. The footsteps of progress have been sandaled with his silver. He has upheld invention while she wrestled with the forces of nature. He was the life-blood of enterprise ; he was the vigor of all progress ; he was the epitome and representative of all that was broadening and expansive and uplifting in the life of California."

            By the strict rules of business the fate of Mr. Ralston was just. In a place of great trust he had used other men's money in a way to cause its probable loss, and it would be a slander to say he did not realize the possible consequences when he did it.

            But no one who knew him ever believed that he meditated any wrong. He had often gambled in stocks and believed he could pull through. Four years previously Mr. Sharon had loaned him $4,000,000 in just such an emergency, and his over-sanguine nature urged him on. When he finally failed he made no appeals for help. He said to himself : "I can make but one atonement," so he sprang into the bay. May the grand things he did in life plead for charity to his memory.