I had mentioned in the article "Digging In Downtown San Francisco", July 1966, that digging in the pits or on the excavation sites was Taboo (forbidden). Well, things change and we all started getting braver and started going into the pits late at night. We would make every effort to gain permission, explaining what we were doing and how we would respect the property. Sometimes we were allowed in and other times when there was no watchman on duty, we simply undid the wire securing the gate or gates and walked right in.There was a special thrill in night digging with all your friends, wives and husbands. The site was lit up like the Las Vegas strip. Not from any lighting in the pit as there was none, but from the completed high rise office buildings across the street. Even at 1:00 and 2:00 A.M. in the morning the town is alive with all the sounds of the City. A block away a pile driver is driving pre-stressed concrete pilings down to bedrock while sea pumps are lending their music to the staccato of night sounds. These pits are ten to twenty feet deep in some places and because of their depth, are below sea level. We wore rubber knee boots and were constantly sinking in the mud and slurry. (Holes were bored in the mud to accept the pre-stressed concrete and a slurry mixture was forced into the hole prior to driving the concrete pilings, to force mud and water out as the concrete pilings were driven down.) I can remember one night when a group of us were digging by flashlights and Coleman gas lanterns. We were all digging away, singing and joking, when all of a sudden near us came a loud "whoomph". We looked over to where the noise came from and saw one of our digging comrades laying on his back with his beard and hair smoking. Seems he hit a gas pocket and his Coleman lantern ignited it. He was lucky as the only injury was to his pride, beard and hair. I remember the next time we dug together, he brought a battery operated fluorescent lamp. In fact, we all upgraded to fluorescent lamps. Another time that a few of us often relate to is when we were digging in a trash layer at the base of a fifteen foot bank, when a large section of the bank decided to give way above us. It was dangerous, yet hilarious to see a half a dozen diggers trying to move back fast in ankle to calf deep muck and mud! The first words heard were "Oh S...!!!
There was a special thrill in night digging with all your friends, wives and husbands. The site was lit up like the Las Vegas strip. Not from any lighting in the pit as there was none, but from the completed high rise office buildings across the street. Even at 1:00 and 2:00 A.M. in the morning the town is alive with all the sounds of the City. A block away a pile driver is driving pre-stressed concrete pilings down to bedrock while sea pumps are lending their music to the staccato of night sounds. These pits are ten to twenty feet deep in some places and because of their depth, are below sea level. We wore rubber knee boots and were constantly sinking in the mud and slurry. (Holes were bored in the mud to accept the pre-stressed concrete and a slurry mixture was forced into the hole prior to driving the concrete pilings, to force mud and water out as the concrete pilings were driven down.) I can remember one night when a group of us were digging by flashlights and Coleman gas lanterns. We were all digging away, singing and joking, when all of a sudden near us came a loud "whoomph". We looked over to where the noise came from and saw one of our digging comrades laying on his back with his beard and hair smoking. Seems he hit a gas pocket and his Coleman lantern ignited it. He was lucky as the only injury was to his pride, beard and hair. I remember the next time we dug together, he brought a battery operated fluorescent lamp. In fact, we all upgraded to fluorescent lamps. Another time that a few of us often relate to is when we were digging in a trash layer at the base of a fifteen foot bank, when a large section of the bank decided to give way above us. It was dangerous, yet hilarious to see a half a dozen diggers trying to move back fast in ankle to calf deep muck and mud! The first words heard were "Oh S...!!!
It was a thrill digging in between and around the old original wood pilings having once supported the piers and wharves that once extended far out into the bay. One evening Gene rescued a large Chinese urn of some type from between two pilings and the wall of the pit. It was of the typical glazed and fired clay.
I also extracted this beautiful opalescent mold blown oil bottle from near the base of an old piling.
Gene has a great sense of humor. One day while on the job in one of the sites, a mud "clammer" was scooping large bites of mud when it connected with an old anchor chain from one of the many abandoned gold ships filled over in the 1850s. A young laborer was working with Gene, so Gene grabbed the opportunity to do a "Gotcha" on this guy. "See the Transamerica Pyramid across the way? The laborer says "Yeah, so?" Gene says, "Watch it closely and you'll see it shake, because the other end of that anchor chain is hung up under some pilings under the Pyramid".
Some of my best finds in the trash layer (original bay bottom prior to land fill in the 1850s) of the bay mud was an "Old Sachem Bitters Wigwam Tonic" in puce color and a green "Voldner"s Aromatic Schnapps".
A large torpedo shaped mineral water bottle; embossed- E. JULIN on the obverse and A.B.O. on the reverse. It's yellow green in color and so designed with a pointed base so as to prevent it from standing up, which would cause the cork to dry out and the contents to leak out.
One evening in another pit near Sansome and Jackson Streets, I hit a rich trash layer containing old bone handled toothbrushes,
pewter spoons,
apothecary pots and lids
and my favorite of all little pots; Holloway's Ointment. Label on pot reads: HOLLOWAY'S OINTMENT FOR THE CURE OF INVETERATE ULCERS BAD LEGS & SORE BREASTS SORE HEADS GOUT and RHEUMATISM IN POTS at 25 cents 62 1/2 cents & $l EACH AT THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE PROPRIETOR 80 MAIDEN LANE NEW YORK
I accumulated quite a variety of clay pipes from various sites and out at the dumps.
Now that we've made a trip through the excavation pit digs, lets head on to the South of Market for PRIVY DIGGIN'S IN THE BIG CITY