The West Of Otkar Talich

By Wm. McCall

In 1879, San Francisco’s city fathers, searching for a way to help their city shed its depraved reputation of “Baghdad by the Bay” decided that a symphony orchestra was needed. Accordingly, they commissioned Justin Porter, a young lawyer with musical knowledge to search for a man who could create the desired orchestra.
Justin headed to Europe to begin his search. The one name that he kept hearing was Otkar Talich, the Continent’s leading violinist and frequent guest conductor of major symphony orchestras.
Justin decided Talich was the man he wanted. Upon meeting, him there was an immediate mutual affinity. Talich was not only a fine man but a student of history and of the American West in particular. He told Justin he would not make a commitment until he visited San Francisco to see how he liked it but was eager for the trip as it would give him a chance to see “The Real West” before it disappeared..
It was a life-changing journey for Otkar in a tragic yet remarkable way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wm. McCall
• Release date: Jun 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476217239

Wm. McCall

Taught HS for many years. Owned and operated a dairy in Camp Verde Arizona. Got my Masters at Arizona State College in Flagstaff. Now retired, writing full time and enjoying life with my Dutch wife of 36 years. Have three children: Billy, Kristen and Laurie. Although I'm 3rd generation removed from Ireland, I feel Irish to the core.

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THE WEST OF OTKAR TALICH

By William Connelly McCall

Copyright 2012 by Wm. Connelly McCall, All rights reserved

Cover Design: Roberto Ball

SmashWords Edition

San Francisco, 1850

Cities, like people, have reputations and in the time of this story no city on earth surpassed Baghdad's reputation for iniquity; its name being synonymous with wickedness and depravity. But, far to the west, a rival was stirring. San Francisco was fast gaining notoriety and had already earned the appellation Baghdad by the Bay.

From the time of its discovery, California's mystique attracted adventurers and explorers, the wild and the restless, and the worst of them, it seems, ended up in San Francisco. After them came a second wave constituted largely of that more industrious and respectable part of civilization whose purposes are more conducive to the establishment of a thriving, law abiding society. But, even among these, there were more than an ample supply of opportunists, mountebanks, criminals, and other larcenous breeds of men and women masquerading as decent citizens.

Then, in 1849, with the discovery of gold at Sutter's Mill, California's siren call became irresistible to the remainder of those who had not journeyed west - the desperate, the dreamers, the gamblers, the unlucky, the unfortunate - in short, those who live mainly on hope. The overland route west was slow and perilous (the transcontinental railroad would not be completed for another twenty years) and Indian attacks were frequent but, of necessity, most chose that route. The less destitute Americans, along with men from virtually every foreign nation, came by ship, their arrival bringing San Francisco new, if not entirely wholesome, blood. This human influx by sea arrived with such a rush that in 1850, the Pacific Daily News reported that within one forty-eight hour period nearly sixty sailing ships entered the Golden Gate, adding dramatically, in all the history of the world there is no comparison.

Although most of the newcomers headed for the gold fields, many remained to seek their fortunes in the city. While eager prospectors panned for gold on the swift streams and rushing rivers cascading down the narrow gorges of the High Sierras, those who remained in the city plied whatever trades they knew or were willing to learn. Businesses prospered. Construction companies, mercantile stores, livery stables, law firms - all flourished. So too, did bordellos, saloons, opium dens and gambling establishments, most of which were concentrated in an especially decadent area that, as if proud of its bawdy reputation, proclaimed itself The Barbary Coast. But vice is not easily confined and it was not uncommon to find petty grifters and free-lance ladies of the streets plying their trades citywide.

Whether for good or ill, life flourished, and gold flowed into the city - gold torn from the Sierras or panned from the broad San Joaquin and its tributaries in the south, while northward the mighty Sacramento, American, Russian and Trinity rivers contributed their share.

Equally valuable, but less immediately obvious, another kind of wealth was arriving from across the broad Pacific. San Francisco was the main port of debarkation for Asian immigrants who, like their white counterparts, were lured by the prospect of wealth in the goldfields. And, like their white counterparts, many remained to start businesses or find employment - so many, that the census of 1860 listed three thousand Chinese residing in San Francisco. The next decade saw thousands more imported to lay track eastward for the Central Pacific Railroad, destined to rendezvous with the Union Pacific in Utah in 1869. Then, with the railroad built and the goldfields largely played out, the Chinese returned to the city to apply themselves to other pursuits. Although many whites would have had it otherwise, the Asian's ambitions could not be confined to menial services or manual labor, and soon they were contributing their entrepreneurial spirit, talents and intellect to the city's life.

This great diversity of peoples and cultures made San Francisco unique and, of all things said about it, the word dull was never mentioned. It was full of the boldest, most daring and adventurous men and women the world had to offer, as well as a good number of the aforementioned unsavory crowd. Such an eclectic mixture inevitably creates problems, but it also brings out the best in the best people, occasionally elevating them, by the sheer magnitude of their difficulties, to dizzying heights of high purpose and rectitude.

Consequently, it was no surprise when, in 1879, San Francisco's city fathers, hoping to assist their charge in shedding its tawdry, but apt nickname, began to cast about for ways to gain a modicum of respectability for their City by the Bay. After much debate it was decided that a first-class symphony orchestra would, at least, clothe it with the vestiges of culture. The cynics, of whom there were many, said, it was . . . like puttin' a silk dress on a whore, it don't change 'er her none.

Undeterred by criticism and heady with the notion of a grand symphony orchestra, the city fathers began a search for someone to begin the process, finally coming across Justin Porter.

Justin had been born in Montana in 1852 and raised on a large, prosperous cattle ranch in the Judith Basin. His schooling was irregular but he was bright and loved to read. When the snowdrifts were too deep for him to ride to school he would lie by the fireside and read books from his father's library. When he was six, his mother began to teach him to play the violin. He was no prodigy but by the age of thirteen he was good enough to play at the occasional dances held at his