The San Francisco Call, 13 Apr 1896, Mon Page 5
It is always a matter of surprise, even to old Californians coming to Dimond for the first time, to find within a short ride from San Francisco, and within a few moments' journey of Alameda or Oakland, a spot where well-cultivated ranches, handsome houses, with all the luxurious appointments usually found only in city homes, and bits of wild canyon and dense woods elbow each other in the happiest fellowship.
Dimond is reached from the City by the broad-gauge and the Highland Park electric road, which meets the train at East Oakland and at Fruitvale station. Either of these lines present a varied and beautiful panorama for the traveler's enjoyment, and five minutes' walk in any direction after reaching the terminus brings one into some of nature's loveliest haunts.
DIMOND THE BEAUTIFUL.
Where Sylvan Charms and Agricultural Prosperity Meet.
THE HOME-SEEKERS PARADISE.
The Little Town in the Hills Becoming Famed for Natural and Agricultural Attractions.
Nestling in the shelter of one of the loveliest lines of foothills in the State lies Dimond, the postoffice for Upper Fruitvale, now rapidly becoming one of the most popular residence districts about the bay.It is always a matter of surprise, even to old Californians coming to Dimond for the first time, to find within a short ride from San Francisco, and within a few moments' journey of Alameda or Oakland, a spot where well-cultivated ranches, handsome houses, with all the luxurious appointments usually found only in city homes, and bits of wild canyon and dense woods elbow each other in the happiest fellowship.
Dimond is reached from the City by the broad-gauge and the Highland Park electric road, which meets the train at East Oakland and at Fruitvale station. Either of these lines present a varied and beautiful panorama for the traveler's enjoyment, and five minutes' walk in any direction after reaching the terminus brings one into some of nature's loveliest haunts.
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| IN DIMOND CANYON |
Almost within the town, on a beautiful wooded hill, stands the Altenheim, the handsome house which the Germans have recently built for the old people of that race, and on the opposite side of the town, in the midst of orchards and gardens, is the Fred Finch Orphanage. Fruitvale is for beauty one of the notable avenues in this country. It abounds in lovely places, and is shaded for its whole length with majestic trees, bordering inviting gardens. The Tillmann place is one of the handsomest of these, where the senior partner of the San Francisco firm of Tillmann & Bendel has made a beautiful home, and near is the residence of Mrs. Florence Blythe-Hinckley, which the Blythe millions are turning into a spot of wonderful charm.
One of the most interesting sights to be seen anywhere in the neighborhood of San Francisco is a giant oak that stands near the Dimond residence. A veritable “grand old man” among trees is this venerable monarch of the forest. In fact it is said to be, of its kind, the largest but one in the United States. One needs to walk about it and contemplate it for some little time before a realization of its gigantic proportions actually takes hold of the mind. Its head towers high above all save the tallest eucalyptus trees in its neighborhood and its enormous outstretched branches have a spread of 96 feet. It is a majestic tree, shapely and sturdy, and as seen now in the glossy beauty of its spring time foliage is a sight never to be forgotten.
How much of a population is already hidden away in the pretty homes that show everywhere among the bills may be judged from the handsome new schoolhouse which has just been completed, to meet the growing demands of the district. The Methodists are at present building a house of worship, and the Presbyterians have a neat edifice not far from the school building.
For scenic interest and variety the country immediately about Dimond is unequaled elsewhere in the neighborhood of the bay. Diverging from the electric-car terminus are several roads leading up into the bills, and a new road connecting these and traversing the summit has just been opened by the Board of Supervisors and will soon be ready for travelers. When completed it will form the desired connecting link between Alameda and Contra Costa counties, that has so long been a subject of earnest discussion.
[I believe that the road described is shown in this 1899 map, County Road No. 2509, which later became Burdeck / Butters, and led to the development of the current Joaquin Miller Rd. Note that C. H. Miller owns the land to the north of road 2509. Cincinnatus Heine Miller was AKA Joaquin Miller. - MF]
It will be more than this, for a syndicate of capitalists, of whom F. M. Smith is one, are already applying for a franchise for an electric railway that shall follow the route of the new highway into the Moraga Valley, thus giving the people of that region entrance into Oakland. There is no more wonderful outlook in the State than is afforded all along this road. It is possible now to drive the greater part of the distance over it, but those citizens of San Francisco and Oakland who enjoy the use of the organs of locomotion with which nature provided them, have long since discovered this to be a delightful and readily attainable holiday walk.
When completed the road will be a continuation of the present Lincoln road, which climbs the heights to where Joaquin Miller has his quaint eyrie, overlooking the bay. From beyond Mr. Miller's place it will traverse the summit and connect with the Redwood road, just before it takes its plunge down through the canyon into Contra Costa County. It will also connect with the present "Hayes Canyon road,” along the Piedmont Hills and thence to Berkeley.
A tramp over the hills back of Dimond is a glorious outing these springtime days. Three or four weeks hence the trip may be taken luxuriously at the tail of a horse, and by another year we may be whizzed along the summit by the witchy power Oliver Wendell Holmes so fittingly called ''The broomstick train,” but he who is good for half a dozen miles may start from Dimond Corner any day and wend his way by an easy grade up the winding road past the poet's domicile, and thence across the fields until he strikes the rough highway that now serves ranchers for getting to town. The road winds through a tangle of laurel and manzanita, by fern-grown banks and broad open stretches covered with poppies and cream-cups, violets and mallow, through veritable parks of redwoods and madronas, with never a sign to warn passers-by off the grass or away from the garden beds, where nature has spread her glories for the delight of all comers.
[I wonder to which "rough highway" he refers. Again, here is that 1899 map overlaid on a modern map. The second-growth redwoods in what is now Joaquin Miller Park would have been about forty-five years old in 1896. Where were ranchers, that they needed a road near Joaquin Miller's house? Is this Charles Silver's road, which is now perhaps represented by the Orchard, Fern Ravine and Wild Rose trails, from West Ridge fire road to what is now the Sunset Trail, in Joaquin Miller Park? - MF]
A number of well-known Oaklanders and San Franciscans have already secured summer homes up in these hills. Mr. Thomas Magee has made a sort of earthly paradise out of Alder Farm, [It would be interesting to view "Alder Farm, Fruitvale, California." I need to see this, because I think I live on the site of the old Alder Farm, maybe? See the tract labeled "ELIZABETH MAGEE" in the map, above. - MF] where he spends what play time he is not disporting in the high Sierras. Father McNally of Oakland has a ranch overlooking both counties, where he is considering the idea of colonizing some of the City's homeless boys and giving them a chance at useful lives. Near neighbors to him are J. T. Classen and C. C. Crowley, who will shortly build him a home overlooking San Francisco, Oakland, Alameda and the Golden Gate.
There is a wonderful vista to be had on all sides from this ridge. The hills in front slope gently down to the level, where, less than five miles distant, Fruitvale lies, like a fair garden. Between are orchards and grainfields, with here and there dark streaks of vivid green, showing where some stream-traversed ravine takes its woodsy way. They are mining for gold in one of these ravines, along the Redwood road, but with less success than are the other prospectors, who, with cultivator and harrow, are mining the rich soil of the uplands and gathering their gold from orchard trees.
Further out we look across to the San Mateo shore at the left, and on the right rises Tamalpais in his majesty, the “dead man laid out'”seeming almost on a level with our eyes. The Golden Gate invites our gaze oceanward, and leads us in imagination through the kingdom of the earth and the glory thereof. Behind and below us are green hills and pastures new, rising even higher, tossed and tumbled together, until they actually seem to move, falling over each other, as it were, in their hurry to scale the heights to where Diablo lifts his ragged head. Fifteen hundred feet is the elevation here, but so easy is the grade that one scarcely realizes the climb. So wide and wonderful is the outlook that ‘tis hard to believe half an hour's drive will take us into East Oakland.
Here is the paradise of wild flower seekers. The woods and hillsides are a blaze of glory this spring. One comes upon rounded eminences purple with the wild hyacinth or white with cream cups. A mile above Dimond Canyon the wild pansy grows, bright yellow, with a purple center and a dash of the same color at the back of the two upper petals. There are many varieties of mallow, and representatives of the great lily family grow in rank profusion everywhere. In the woods the azaleas are in blossom, and the huckleberry, with which the hills are covered, is just beginning to show its beautiful white flowers. Later on the berry-pickers will be out in force for this is a happy hunting-ground for those who do not believe with Thoreau that no one ever really succeeded in getting a huckleberry into town.
Winding down the summit the road enters the Redwood road near the quarries and follows a winding, easy course back to Fruitvale avenue and the City. Within a short time the carriage road in contemplation will be completed, and then visitors from the City will be able to take the entire drive of twelve or fourteen miles along such a scenic route as even Tamalpais cannot show the equal.
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| THE OCTOPUS |
At the upper end of the avenue, checking its further progress in fact, is the residence of the late Hugh Dimond, from which place the popular Dimond Canyon and the postoffice take their name. Dimond Canyon is a famous picnic ground and a gathering-place just now for all the artists and sketching clubs within a radius of twenty miles. It is a deep, but easily accessible ravine, densely wooded with laurels and oak, and flowing through it is a beautiful stream that dashes over several pretty falls on its way to the bay.
One of the most interesting sights to be seen anywhere in the neighborhood of San Francisco is a giant oak that stands near the Dimond residence. A veritable “grand old man” among trees is this venerable monarch of the forest. In fact it is said to be, of its kind, the largest but one in the United States. One needs to walk about it and contemplate it for some little time before a realization of its gigantic proportions actually takes hold of the mind. Its head towers high above all save the tallest eucalyptus trees in its neighborhood and its enormous outstretched branches have a spread of 96 feet. It is a majestic tree, shapely and sturdy, and as seen now in the glossy beauty of its spring time foliage is a sight never to be forgotten.
How much of a population is already hidden away in the pretty homes that show everywhere among the bills may be judged from the handsome new schoolhouse which has just been completed, to meet the growing demands of the district. The Methodists are at present building a house of worship, and the Presbyterians have a neat edifice not far from the school building.
For scenic interest and variety the country immediately about Dimond is unequaled elsewhere in the neighborhood of the bay. Diverging from the electric-car terminus are several roads leading up into the bills, and a new road connecting these and traversing the summit has just been opened by the Board of Supervisors and will soon be ready for travelers. When completed it will form the desired connecting link between Alameda and Contra Costa counties, that has so long been a subject of earnest discussion.
[I believe that the road described is shown in this 1899 map, County Road No. 2509, which later became Burdeck / Butters, and led to the development of the current Joaquin Miller Rd. Note that C. H. Miller owns the land to the north of road 2509. Cincinnatus Heine Miller was AKA Joaquin Miller. - MF]
It will be more than this, for a syndicate of capitalists, of whom F. M. Smith is one, are already applying for a franchise for an electric railway that shall follow the route of the new highway into the Moraga Valley, thus giving the people of that region entrance into Oakland. There is no more wonderful outlook in the State than is afforded all along this road. It is possible now to drive the greater part of the distance over it, but those citizens of San Francisco and Oakland who enjoy the use of the organs of locomotion with which nature provided them, have long since discovered this to be a delightful and readily attainable holiday walk.
When completed the road will be a continuation of the present Lincoln road, which climbs the heights to where Joaquin Miller has his quaint eyrie, overlooking the bay. From beyond Mr. Miller's place it will traverse the summit and connect with the Redwood road, just before it takes its plunge down through the canyon into Contra Costa County. It will also connect with the present "Hayes Canyon road,” along the Piedmont Hills and thence to Berkeley.
A tramp over the hills back of Dimond is a glorious outing these springtime days. Three or four weeks hence the trip may be taken luxuriously at the tail of a horse, and by another year we may be whizzed along the summit by the witchy power Oliver Wendell Holmes so fittingly called ''The broomstick train,” but he who is good for half a dozen miles may start from Dimond Corner any day and wend his way by an easy grade up the winding road past the poet's domicile, and thence across the fields until he strikes the rough highway that now serves ranchers for getting to town. The road winds through a tangle of laurel and manzanita, by fern-grown banks and broad open stretches covered with poppies and cream-cups, violets and mallow, through veritable parks of redwoods and madronas, with never a sign to warn passers-by off the grass or away from the garden beds, where nature has spread her glories for the delight of all comers.
[I wonder to which "rough highway" he refers. Again, here is that 1899 map overlaid on a modern map. The second-growth redwoods in what is now Joaquin Miller Park would have been about forty-five years old in 1896. Where were ranchers, that they needed a road near Joaquin Miller's house? Is this Charles Silver's road, which is now perhaps represented by the Orchard, Fern Ravine and Wild Rose trails, from West Ridge fire road to what is now the Sunset Trail, in Joaquin Miller Park? - MF]
A number of well-known Oaklanders and San Franciscans have already secured summer homes up in these hills. Mr. Thomas Magee has made a sort of earthly paradise out of Alder Farm, [It would be interesting to view "Alder Farm, Fruitvale, California." I need to see this, because I think I live on the site of the old Alder Farm, maybe? See the tract labeled "ELIZABETH MAGEE" in the map, above. - MF] where he spends what play time he is not disporting in the high Sierras. Father McNally of Oakland has a ranch overlooking both counties, where he is considering the idea of colonizing some of the City's homeless boys and giving them a chance at useful lives. Near neighbors to him are J. T. Classen and C. C. Crowley, who will shortly build him a home overlooking San Francisco, Oakland, Alameda and the Golden Gate.
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| TOWN OF DIMOND |
Further out we look across to the San Mateo shore at the left, and on the right rises Tamalpais in his majesty, the “dead man laid out'”seeming almost on a level with our eyes. The Golden Gate invites our gaze oceanward, and leads us in imagination through the kingdom of the earth and the glory thereof. Behind and below us are green hills and pastures new, rising even higher, tossed and tumbled together, until they actually seem to move, falling over each other, as it were, in their hurry to scale the heights to where Diablo lifts his ragged head. Fifteen hundred feet is the elevation here, but so easy is the grade that one scarcely realizes the climb. So wide and wonderful is the outlook that ‘tis hard to believe half an hour's drive will take us into East Oakland.
Here is the paradise of wild flower seekers. The woods and hillsides are a blaze of glory this spring. One comes upon rounded eminences purple with the wild hyacinth or white with cream cups. A mile above Dimond Canyon the wild pansy grows, bright yellow, with a purple center and a dash of the same color at the back of the two upper petals. There are many varieties of mallow, and representatives of the great lily family grow in rank profusion everywhere. In the woods the azaleas are in blossom, and the huckleberry, with which the hills are covered, is just beginning to show its beautiful white flowers. Later on the berry-pickers will be out in force for this is a happy hunting-ground for those who do not believe with Thoreau that no one ever really succeeded in getting a huckleberry into town.
Winding down the summit the road enters the Redwood road near the quarries and follows a winding, easy course back to Fruitvale avenue and the City. Within a short time the carriage road in contemplation will be completed, and then visitors from the City will be able to take the entire drive of twelve or fourteen miles along such a scenic route as even Tamalpais cannot show the equal.
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