October 5
The delta breeze blew softly, a welcome relief after the
heat of Sacramento. A cloud of
blackbirds swirled in the fields, their tight alignment and rigid discipline
fooling me into thinking they merely numbered in the hundreds – until they
broke into smaller divisions, revealing thousands of individuals. They moved as if one mind guided them, the
close quarters they kept never leading to a collision.
The levee and adjacent farm land are mainly products of
Chinese labor, brought to California to perform cheap and difficult labor no
one else would. Many stayed on after the
initial work was complete, opening businesses or toiling at one of the nine
asparagus canneries on the delta. Not
all were law-abiding citizens. The Bing
Kong Tong, whose clubhouse has been preserved in Isleton, was a criminal gang
much like the Italian mafia. The Tong’s
members were just like other immigrants, except the new opportunities they
sought involved extortion, gambling, and prostitution. I
think there is a line in Neil Diamond’s song “Coming to America” about
protection schemes.
 |
| Bing Kong Tong |
I tried to find some traditional cuisine across the street
from Bing Kong at the Pineapple. My
search for an authentically spicy Szechuan chicken dish failed even here. The bland favors were a terrific
disappointment until I doused the plate with red chilis. Do you need to know the secret password to
get the real thing?
I cruised over bridges and past marinas. The marsh grasses and palm trees gave the
delta a coastal feel, even though the ocean is still seventy miles away*. I finished up at Brannan Island, named after
the man who instigated the madness of 1849.
When Sutter learned of the gold found at his mill, he feared
the likely consequences and tried to keep the discovery on the down low. Sam Brannan, a Mormon elder, was responsible
for releasing the proverbial genie from the bottle, selling out not only
Sutter, but Brigham Young as well in the process. Brannan owned a store in New Helvetia, near
Sutter’s Fort. When he noticed how many
of his customers were paying in gold, his spidey sense activated and he quietly
began hoarding merchandise and buying stocks in mining equipment. Once well-provisioned, he traveled to San
Francisco with a bottle of gold dust, where he yelled, “Gold! Gold! Gold from
the American river.” Then he sat back
and watched the money roll on in.
Brannan had originally come to California as the head of a
Mormon mission. Eventually, the head of
the church, Brigham Young, sent a messenger asking for the Lord’s cut of his
profits. Brannan’s supposed reply? “You go back and tell Brigham that I’ll give
up the Lord’s money when he sends me a receipt signed by the Lord.”
Quiet, empty Brannan Island was a poor representation of the
man, who has been described as brash, coarse, courageous, and even
generous. Whiskey and a failed marriage
led to the downfall of Brannan late in life.
Darkness and fatigue led to my downfall late in the day, at an out of
season campsite on the island. Unlike
the dead millionaire, I do plan to get up again, hopefully tomorrow.
16 miles/3993 total miles
*This number is the driving distance. To discover the actual mileage I still have
to cover on the ADT you can multiply by two. Or trace the curviest hilliest route possible
on a topographic map.
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