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ED. NOTE FROM 2026: Between 1974 and 1976, Wallace E. Martin — a former sailor, Humboldt County treasurer-tax collector and president of the Humboldt County Historical Society — wrote a regular column called “Waterfront Yarns” in the Humboldt Historian. He eventually collected these stories and a few others in a book: Waterfront Yarns of Humboldt Bay: From the Era of Wooden Ships and Iron Men.

When Martin passed away in 1994, a couple of his colleagues in the Historical Society penned loving tributes to him, which you can find in PDF form at this link.

Here are four installments of “Waterfront Yarns,” all published in 1976.

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Steamer Day was Mail Day

EUREKA WAS A LONG WAY from civilization before the Northwestern Pacific Railroad came and for more than three-quarters of a century, “Steamer Day” was an event of great importance.

Back in the 1850s and 1860s the old Goliath, a rebuilt New York side-wheel towboat with the traditional walking-beam engine, the Ancon, Orizaba and Brother Jonathan, plodded back an forth between here and San Francisco, carrying passengers, freight and mail.

And of great importance to journalism, the ship’s pursers always brought a big roll of San Francisco newspapers, to be clipped and reprinted in The Humboldt Times. In no other way was Humboldt able to keep abreast of world affairs until the telegraph line opened some years later.

In those early days, advance information of the arrival of a passenger steamer off the entrance was given by the firing of a cannon mounted on top of an old sawdust pile on First Street between D and E street. In later years after the Vance House was built, a lookout in the cupola would sight the steamer and would raise the flag so that people in all parts of the city would know that within a half and hour or so a landing would be made.

Runners for the various hotels, including the Vance, Grand, Revere and Western, were always on hand when the steamers arrived, hoping to secure the patronage of those who had no private residences. Traveling men arrived on every steamer and they stayed several days in order to make visitations on the merchants and other towns of the county.

One by one the side-wheelers — the Ancon, Brother Jonathan, Goliath, Orizaba and the rest disappeared, to be replaced by wooden or iron propeller-driven steamers such as the Pomona, Corona, Humboldt, State of California, Roanoke, Geo. W. Elder, City of Topeka, F. A. Kilburn and others.

The officers of the passenger steamers came to be known as real Eurekans because nearly all of them made weekly visits over a period of many years and while here took part in the social affairs of the community and were welcomed into the homes.

At the heyday of the coastal passenger trade — 1910 to 1914 — there were four steamers a week to San Francisco and one to Portland via Coos Bay. Then came stiff competition by railroad, buses and, finally, by air. The 1934 Pacific Coast maritime strike was almost a fatal blow, although valiant efforts were made to resume service when the strike was over.

But the handwriting was on the wall. The day of the coastwise passenger ship was over. Shortly before World War II, all passenger and freight service, other than lumber and oil, passed into history.

Was the ‘Hoodoo’ Broken?

ONE OF THE BETTER KNOWN lumber schooners operating out of Humboldt Bay for many years was the John A, owned by The Pacific Lumber Company and named for its President, John A. Sinclair.

One time the company chartered her out for a cargo of lumber to be loaded at Grays Harbor, Washington. She was scheduled to leave San Francisco for the northern port on Friday, which also happened to be the 13th.

The crew objected to sailing on this day and notified the captain that he must wait until the next day to put to sea or they would leave the ship.

A new mate, a Frenchman, had just been signed on. When he heard the sailor’s objection he told them that in Europe a way had been found to break this kind of a hoodoo. He guaranteed all would be well if they followed his suggestion.

The crew went along with this so the Frenchman ordered the butcher to supply them with a small pig. He cut the pig into quarters, lashed one quarter to each mast and impaled the pig’s head on the bowsprit. The John A sailed through the Golden Gate on Friday the and headed north. 

Sailors in the waterfront saloons watched this voyage with interest. Would the John A actually make it to Grays Harbor or would she be found a total wreck on the Northern California or Oregon coast?

You can imagine how surprised they were then, when word was received at the San Francisco Marine Exchange, that the John A had arrived at Grays Harbor after a voyage of but four days. She had broken all records to date for a fast passage between the two ports!

Did the Frenchman break the hoodoo? No one along the Embarcadero seemed willing to be quoted.

Cat’s Departure Brings Bad Luck

SAILORS HAVE A STRANGE superstition regarding cats. All ships carry them, of course, but it is considered a bad omen if the cat comes up on the bridge of the ship or if it deserts the vessel just before sailing time.

A friend of mine, who was Chief Engineer on the steam schooner Washington for many years, once told me of a strange incident that occurred in 1926, when his ship was loading at a San Francisco pier next to the steamer Everett.

The ship’s cat left the Everett just before sailing time and came aboard the Washington. Twenty-four hours later there came an S.O.S. A ship was on fire off Cape Mendocino! It was the Everett.

Another incident concerns the steam schooner Tiverton. Shortly before the Tiverton sailed from San Francisco, the cook’s cat walked down the gangplank and refused to be caught. That was Saturday night. Early Monday morning, in a thick fog, the Tiverton hit South Jetty at the entrance to Humboldt Bay and became a total loss.

Of course we all know the cats didn’t have a thing to do with the loss of the Everett or the Tiverton, but have you ever tried to tell a sailor that?

Here is another story about a cat, but this one happened to be purposely taken off the ship. It was during the days of Prohibition when it was an everyday occurrence for liquor to be smuggled ashore from both coastwise and offshore vessels.

The ship had just docked at a San Francisco pier. The Captain came ashore carrying a large satchel. He was stopped by the Customs Officer who requested the satchel be opened for inspection. The Captain protested, saying that it contained nothing more than the ship’s cat.

The officer wouldn’t take his word for it and insisted that the satchel be opened. Again the Captain objected, arguing that if he opened the satchel he might lose the cat. The officer grabbed the satchel, opened it, and sure enough, out jumped the cat and away it went, back to the ship.

The Captain started in pursuit, rushing up the gangway back on to the vessel. A few minutes later he reappeared, all smiles. “I caught it,” he said to the Customs Officer, who smiled and said, “Sorry I caused you all the trouble. It won’t be necessary to open the bag again.”

The Captain made his way along the pier and out to the Embarcadero where he was met by a friend. They drove away with the satchel, which they opened later. Do you suppose that the cat jumped out? Of course not.

A Well-Remembered Shipwreck

THE STORY OF THE SEA is marked with many chapters of anxiety and sorrow, for through the years the losses have been heavy.

For Humboldt County, the sea was the highway to the outer world and ship disasters were not uncommon. Headstones in cemeteries, weather-beaten, stained, mutely testify to man’s battle with the sea.

The schooner Fidelity, a product of the Cookson Shipyard on Humboldt Bay and manned by a crew of seven who lived in Eureka, arrived off Humboldt Bar early in the morning of November 16, 1889.

Under the command of Captain L. H. Christopherson, the Fidelity had made a quick trip up from San Diego where she had delivered a cargo of redwood lumber. The crew was looking forward to getting home again. They were happy when the tug Printer came out to put a line aboard to tow them in to the bay.

After getting over most of the large breakers on the bar successfully, the schooner was caught by a tremendous wave and upset in an instant. Her masts snapped off and in a few minutes she was bottom-side up. One moment a proud little ship coming in to her home port — the next minute a floating coffin for her crew.

The crew of the tug reported that not a living soul was seen after the breaker struck the vessel. Captain Christopherson and crew had found a watery grave.

Shortly afterward, suits were filed against the tug Printer and her owners by Mrs. Christopherson, widow of the Captain, and Mrs. Hans Pederson, widow of the ship’s steward. They charged that the loss of the schooner was caused by the negligence and carelessness of the tug and its owners, the Humboldt Lumber Manufacturers Association.

Five years after the loss of the vessel, judgment was entered for the Plaintiffs. Mrs. Christopherson was awarded $7,000, Mrs. Pederson, $5,000.

The loss of the schooner Fidelity that day in November of 1889 was still fresh in the memory of one Eurekan, the late J. R. Pederson, retired Eureka banker, when I interviewed him-in May 1960. His father was Hans Pederson, steward of the ill-fated vessel.

“I was just a child,” he recalled, “but I remember that the day was windy and the bay rough. My mother knew the vessel was to be brought in that day and she sent me down to the Carson mill dock to see if it had arrived. Then came news of the tragedy…”

And so ends the saga of the schooner Fidelity, built of Humboldt timber, manned by a Humboldt crew and wrecked on Humboldt Bar.

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