4.5 stars. There’s something very commercial about these stories. The ideas are very Hollywood. The humor and sentiment reminded me of The Andy Griffith Show but for the Old West, and a bit naughtier, a bit obsessed with cuckolds.
Full of gold miners and gamblers, half-breeds and whores, these fictional dispatches from the frontier were greatly admired by Kipling and perhaps influenced his own half-arch, half-tragic reports on a community on the empire’s fringes. Harte’s world was a novelty then, but now of course it’s just fascinating to get this early glimpse of beautiful, beautiful northern California, back when a wife joining her husband from the “effete” East was news for the local paper and held up as a model for others, and when a few children played in the bucolic landscape and ran up to kiss the even fewer strangers. Hard to comprehend how recent it all was. Also hard to fathom a time when these characters were fresh and not the national archetypes the whole world knows today.
Harte reuses a small number of props to set his California scenes: the sighing pines, the stars, a gulch, a grizzly, a white cabin by a gurgling stream, the snowy Sierras. The red dust and the flood. A sycamore hung with bodies. He seems to have written a lot of stories, and there’s little overlap in the selections of editors. I formed my own, from an audiobook and a paperback on my shelves:
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“The Luck of Roaring Camp.” 1868. Same formula as Three Men and a Baby, same kind of mass appeal, both touching and comedic. It caused a sensation, but only after the literati back East, like Mark Twain, made a big deal out of it. (Twain, incidentally, would later come to detest his friend).
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“Tennessee’s Partner.” 1869. Humorous picture of the idiosyncrasies and mysteries of friendship. Despite the conflict over a woman, Wikipedia offers a “homosexual context,” which is of course de rigueur in this moment, when every deep male relationship must necessarily be gay. (And then people wonder why straight men no longer have friends).
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“The Idyl of Red Gulch.” 1869. A meeting between a schoolmarm and a prostitute derails a man’s romantic hopes.
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“How Santa Claus Came to Simpson’s Bar.” 1872.
The blue-ribbon winner of the bunch.
There are some great characters: the “old” guy (he’s only 50) who conforms to the mood of whatever room he’s in; his sick little boy, with the manners of an old man. He wants to know about Sandy Claws, a sort of Chinaman, he’s heard. Even the horse is a crazy character, with its signs of “vice.”
With all the obstacles, like the crazy horse and the arm shattered by a highwayman’s bullet and the rising river—and the rising sun—the story becomes suspenseful in a funny way. The incongruity between the high stakes and the “low” reward (getting a poor kid some toys for Xmas) is part of the offbeat pathos.
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“Brown of Calaveras.” 1869. Another artfully told tale. Harte doesn’t tell you Jack is sleeping with his friend’s wife, or that he is planning on running off with her, or that he is trying to talk himself out of it. He makes it plain enough without saying it.
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“Miggles.” 1869. Harte makes Miggles come to life immediately, and she is genuinely fetching. But then the story fizzles into a character sketch relying on some quirks like a pet grizzly and a backstory that is slightly sentimental.
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“A Passage in the Life of Mr. John Oakhurst.” 1871(?) Story of a remarkable cripple. The way Harte turns her from a hard-luck case to a sort of old-timey femme fatale is pretty amazing.
Now the fight is between two lovers instead of a husband and a lover. Despite the soapy plot and melodramatic dialogue, Harte can’t quite conceal his laughter.
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“The Outcasts of Poker Flat.” 1869. Really captures how fast a situation out in the wilderness can become harrowing. You also see the bonds that form among the stranded. That skunk Uncle Billy!
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“Salomy Jane's Kiss.” 1889. Later story, if my info is accurate, and quite exciting and sexy.
A lot of these stories leave you hanging just at the most suspenseful moment, then cut to a knock on the door of some sleeper. By now I’ve come to brace myself for Harte’s endings, unsure if they’ll be saccharine or traumatic. The author somewhat acknowledges this and offers instead a more mundane conclusion.
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“The Poet of Sierra Flat.” (1871) This was funny but I’m confused. He was a woman?
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“Colonel Starbottle for the Plaintiff.” (1901) Great.
Bewitching young woman sues a deacon for breach of promise, hiring a silver-tongued, old-fashioned lawyer quick to challenge people to duels and in danger of falling under the girl’s spell himself. Long one, but the trial is hilarious and ends on an unexpectedly heartbreaking note. Harte was now 65.
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“Wan Lee, the Pagan.” 1874. This is one of those stories that gave Harte’s adopted city a black eye and caused such resentment towards him. A sketch of a small Chinese community and of one little imp in particular, stoned to death in a race riot. Again, probably influenced Kipling.
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“An Ingenue of the Sierras.” A “coach” (a stagecoach—I always have difficulty knowing if I’m reading about a train or carriage) awaits a robbery which mysteriously doesn’t occur, but the passengers learn they carry aboard an accomplice, who’d signaled from the darkened vehicle with a white handkerchief or veil. So, good suspense and paranoia off the bat, with a gruff, sharp hero named Yuba Bill. This is such a good old-fashioned tale, full of turns that keep getting turned on their head. The final twist is another surprise, and another Hollywood trope: the innocent-seeming female character who outwits all the scheming men in the end.
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Marginalia:
*An example of why you don’t want to get on Twain’s bad side: ““Harte is a liar, a thief, a swindler, a snob, a sot, a sponge, a coward. He is brim full of treachery, and he conceals his Jewish birth…as if he considered it a disgrace…. To send this nasty creature to puke upon the American name in a foreign land is too much.”
Considering Harte’s sudden boom and bust in popularity, I wonder if Twain, who helped make him, had a hand in unmaking him. But I’m not sure the date of their falling-out lines up.
*Harte’s father was a merchant and one of the founders of the New York Stock Exchange. This was not some son of the backwoods writing these tales.
*Apparently Kipling was a fan of “How Santa Claus Came to Simpson’s Bar” too, and not a fan of the San Francisco accent. On his visit there: “Now that I have heard their voices, all the beauty of Bret Harte is being ruined for me, because I find myself catching through the roll of his rhythmical prose the cadence of his peculiar fatherland. Get an American lady to read to you ‘How Santa Claus Came to Simpson’s Bar,’ and see how much is, under her tongue, left of the beauty of the original.”
Kipling went on: “But I am sorry for Bret Harte. It happened this way. A reporter asked me what I thought of the city, and I made answer suavely that it was hallowed ground to me, because of Bret Harte. That was true. ‘Well, ‘ said the reporter, ‘Bret Harte claims California, but California don’t claim Bret Harte. He’s been so long in England that he’s quite English. Have you seen our cracker factories or the new offices of the ‘Examiner?’ He could not understand that to the outside world the city was worth a great deal less than the man.”