Tke Knave - Fish Ranch Road - Sheriff Hale & Hangings - Oakland Tribune - 23 Aug 1964, Sun - Page 144

Fish Ranch - John Olive Aug 23, 1964 - The Knave Sun, Aug 23, 1964 – 144 · Oakland Tribune (Oakland, Alameda, California, United States of America) · Newspapers.com

WHIMSY has a way of creeping into nomenclature probably more than in any other art or science. If this wasn't true, Oakland's Fish Ranch Road might very well be known today as Olive Road. After all, John Olive was indirectly responsible for its naming. He is the man who arrived in Contra Costa County in 1879 and established the Fish Ranch in the hills eight miles out (much closer today) from Oakland. John Olive's ranch produced just what it says - fish! And it wasn't long in winning fans from Oakland. The quaint and capricious name of Fish Ranch Road soon attached itself to the dirt roadway that meandered past Olive's new settlement. Little did it matter to John. More important was the fact that his new home soon became a stage stop. Actually, Fish Ranch Road is an extension of Claremont Avenue that bisects Berkeley and Oakland. The Fish Ranch Road hooks on to Claremont and goes on up over the hills to link Alameda and Contra Costa Counties. It was then Fish Ranch Road all the way to John Olive's place, and even beyond. Location of the Fish Ranch was at what was for a while called Rocky Point. Six high-speed traffic lanes swerve over the old ranch site now. All you can do is close your eyes and imagine the ranch setting. Outbound to Contra Costa from Oakland it would be somewhere before you reached the lane that now turns up the hill to the Kaiser rock quarry on the right side of Mt. Diablo Boulevard.

Fish Ranch Road got its name from John Olive's trout farm beyond today's Broadway tunnel

OAKLAND folk found John Olive's wife an excellent cook and made the Fish Ranch their favorite gathering place for many years. Olive's fish ponds also furnished frog legs for the dinner table. Besides his stage station and fish ponds, John Olive operated a small saloon and engaged in horse trading in addition to providing cattle corrals. He was said to be a great judge of horseflesh, and the ranch became headquarters for horse traders as well as social diners. Many Oaklanders pastured and boarded their carriage horses at his ranch. His reputation for honesty in dealings accounted for much of his popularity. In the 1870s there were only three other ranches between Oakland and Lafayette. Olive arrived in California in 1854 but he was 25 years getting to Contra Costa County. He came west as an experienced stagecoach operator, heading across the plains in 1854 with Captain Young's party. Born in Canada in 1825 he was but 18 when he entered the stage business at London, Ontario. Later he drove stages out of Dubuque, Iowa. After that, Olive joined up with the Howe & Malys circus, and later the Howe & Lent circus. There was even a period when he was employed by the Bowery Theater in New York City. As soon as he arrived in Sacramento, in August of 1854, he began driving stages for the California Stage Company. Later he staged out of Stockton; owned a farm in Merced County; returned to Stockton and finally wound up with an interest in a stage line there before coming to the Fish Ranch in 1879.

Evil Destiny 

BEING a foe of capital punishment is nothing new. When Richard Auguadro of Oakland approached us recently for information regarding California's first triple hanging we began a search that is still going on. Meanwhile, this search has uncovered a parade of capital punishment foes down through the years. Following is the report of an amusing trick that fate played on William E. Hale, sheriff of Alameda County from 1884 until 1891. Sheriff Hale liked his office but didn't relish one of his duties - that of officiating at executions. Under the state law in those days hangings were conducted at various county jails, the sheriff being charged with the responsibility of carrying out the death sentence. Sheriff Hale wasn't in office very long before he became a leader in the fight to have the state take over this awesome task of execution. Through his efforts a bill was introduced in the Legislature providing that capital punishment be inflicted at the state penitentiary rather than the county jail. It was a long battle. Hale served as sheriff here for three terms and was a very popular man. On his retirement from the Alameda County office in January of 1891 his deputies presented him with an elegant diamond ring. Then, while the execution matter was pending, Hale suddenly found himself appointed Warden of San Quentin. Coincident with his taking office, the measure he so strongly fostered passed the Legislature and became law. Instead of avoiding the county Jail executions, he found himself forced to witness the state executions at San Quentin. To this Oakland man fell the dubious honor of officiating at the first execution at San Quentin, that of Jose Gabriel who was hanged on March 3, 1892.

CURIOUS as to Sheriff Hale's aversion to hangings, it was interesting to find that 10 days after his taking office here he was confronted by a hanging. The execution took place in the courtyard of the old Alameda County jail behind the Hall of Justice on Broadway. The jail faced Washington Street and was in the middle of the block between Fourth and Fifth Streets. The Knave has had another search underway for a photo of this old jail for some weeks, but the results have been fruitless. Sheriff Hale was sworn into office on Jan. 5 and on Jan. 16 a convicted strangler named Wright Leroy was scheduled for execution. Leroy went to his death proclaiming his innocence, and nowhere in the column-long account printed by The Tribune can we find any reference to Sheriff Hale's presence at the scene. Deputy Sheriff Bigger was the man to visit the doomed killer in his jail cell, Undersheriff J. J. Driscoll taking on the task of reading him the death warrant. Leroy spent a restless night but was calm in his walk to the scaffold. It was almost half past 12 noon when the hood was placed over his head, and at 12:52 p.m. coroner deputies cut down his body. The Tribune account hints of a courtyard crowded with witnesses.