Plumbing the Depths of the Spring Valley Water Company
My “career” at the Bancroft had its beginning with lunch in former University Librarian Peter Lyman’s office on Feb. 21, 1997. Halfway through my sandwich, Peter informed me that “the entertainment” would arrive at 1 p.m. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.
George Miller |
At 1 sharp, Tony Bliss, Curator of Rare Books, arrived pushing a library cart with an assortment of very interesting- looking volumes plus a mysterious carton. After a quick run-through of some of the papyrus collection, old ship logs, and other historic memorabilia, we got down to the “really good stuff”— a box of the M.M. O’Shaughnessy papers. (O’Shaughnessy was the San Francisco city engineer in the early 1900’s who supervised construction of the O’Shaughnessy dam at Hetch Hetchy.)
The three of us rummaged through the contents — photographs, musty old letters, official-looking documents — not unlike a bunch of kids at Christmas. I was hooked. I mentioned that this was really neat stuff and that if they needed some relatively unskilled labor to sort through it, I would be willing to help out. (All of this was a bit of a setup, as Peter Lyman was well aware of my passionate interest in California water issues.)
A few weeks later I received a call from Charles Faulhaber saying he had something that might be of interest and could we get together?
On the agreed date I walked into his office and was met by Tony Bliss, Bonnie Hardwick (Curator of the Bancroft Collection), and Mary Morganti (Supervising Archivist). I knew I was in over my head.
Charles acknowledged my interest in O’Shaughnessy and went on to explain that they had a more pressing problem at hand. The Bancroft had received the corporate archives of the Spring Valley Water Company in 1950 and there was considerable interest in making these papers more accessible. Would I be interested?
I had never heard of the Spring Valley Water Company. I indicated that I was six months into retirement and really wasn’t looking for a job, but I would be willing to come in and work on the collection a couple of days a week. I had a new “career.”
Next came my introduction to “Level 3,” deep in the bowels of Bancroft. Going through two locked doors reminded me of a minimum security prison. My work area was all laid out with the first 20 of 95 cartons and 50 volumes (soon to be 80) of material to be processed. A couple of special touches were O’Shaughnessy’s suitcase, which he used while visiting Hetch Hetchy, and a model of a Pelton water wheel.
Now I had to learn a bit of rare manuscript processing etiquette. Pens are verboten. Post-its and scotch tape are under lock and key. Don’t even think about a cup of coffee or a quick snack at your desk! I was hopeful of being permitted my own scissors.
Then I learned the first law of cataloging — you must be very cautious about reading the material, or you will never finish. I had to constantly remind myself that I was not doing research. My mission was to put the material in order so that someone else would be able to use it in a more productive way.
How to start? I decided that the best way to get a handle on things was to review the minutes of the Board of Directors meetings. No simple task — 29 volumes, each 16 by 12 inches and 6 inches thick, bound in beautiful red leather and weighing 10 pounds. This exercise took several weeks and resulted in 110 pages of handwritten notes. A nice chronology of events, but devoid of any color or real insight.
Next I started through the corporate secretary’s files, some 20 cartons dating back to 1910. Going through them, folder by folder, page by page, I gained a vivid picture of the ebb and flow of Spring Valley. I got an insider’s view of the battle over Hetch Hetchy, the eventual sale of the company to the City of San Francisco, as well as the easement for Phoebe Hearst’s septic tank. The user’s guide to these files runs some 30 pages. (In the process of putting the files in order, I accumulated a cubic foot of rusty paper clips which will become a sculpture when I finish. I was grateful that my tetanus shot was current.)
The best was yet to come. The president of the company from 1908 to 1923 was William B. Bourn, also president of the Empire Mines (largest of the California gold mines), president of the Pacific Union Club, and a trustee of Stanford University. He conceived and built Filoli as his personal residence.
Two cartons of Bourn’s personal correspondence were a treasure. He was a very colorful individual with a strong opinion on just about everything. He was a prolific letter-writer and had a marvelous sense of humor. He could be harsh, he could be kind. On many occasions I forgot my mission, reading and rereading his letters. I feel I know the man. I would like to have had him as a friend. Tragically, Bourn suffered a stroke or a nervous breakdown in 1921. He was chairman of the Spring Valley Water Company Board of Directors until 1930, but never attended another meeting.
It was painful trying to decipher Bourn’s handwritten notes from Filoli over the next couple of years. He died in 1936. I’ll always wonder what he could have accomplished had he remained healthy those last 15 years.
I am nearing the end of the Spring Valley Saga. I’ve opened the last of the cartons and sorted out the volumes — no big surprises. By the time this is published I will have taken a few weeks off and started my next project — O’Shaughnessy’s papers — all 110 cartons! So what do I take away from this experience? Well, I certainly learned a lot about Spring Valley and the early history of San Francisco. I think I have a pretty good understanding of how the Hetch Hetchy project came about. I feel as though I’ve met many of early San Francisco’s more colorful characters, including members of today’s prominent Bay Area families. But most importantly I gained a much better insight into Bancroft Library and some of its fascinating collections. The appeal is not just to scholars — there’s lots of really neat stuff that would have great interest for your average folk.
And finally, my thanks to Mary Morganti. It took a lot of courage to welcome a total neophyte to Tier 3— even one with an MBA. Without her patience, tutoring, and encouragement, I would never have made it.
George Miller received his MBA from the
Haas School of Business in 1961. His 35-year
career in the mutual fund industry ended in
1996 when he retired as president of the
Income Fund of America. He is a supporter of
the University Libraries, the Cal Band, and
sponsors the Miller Scholar Program. His
passions include water reform in California,
small claims court reform, and a micro-credit
loan program in Vietnam.
Volume 113
Fall 1998
Table of Contents
"Sinners & Pilgrims" Colonel Denny’s Journal and Photo Album
From the Director: Students in Bancroft?
Ovid’s Metamorphoses Metamorphosed
Bonnie Hardwick Follows Her Passions
Rube Goldberg: An American Genius
William P. Barlow, Jr.—A Friend Indeed
Plumbing the Depths of the Spring Valley Water Company
Basketball? At Bancroft? The Oral History of Pete Newell
Jean Stone Honored at Annual Meeting
New Prize for Undergraduate Book Collecting
