WAYSIDE ROAD HOUSES OF YE OLDEN TIME - Oakland Tribune, 16 Jun 1907, Sun, Page 35

See also OAKLAND'S FAMOUS OLD TIME BOULEVARD - Oakland Tribune 12 Nov 1916, Sun - Page 47 and other stories mentioning Joe Dieves.

WAYSIDE ROAD HOUSES OF YE OLDEN TIME 

Retrospective Glance Over Ancient Landmarks in Alameda Which Passed When Railroads Came.

The old-fashioned road house is almost a thing of the past in Alameda county. Time was when there were not a few of them, and they flourished more or less successfully for many years. But modern ways, change of customs, and above all, the multiplicity of railway lines, steam and electric, have nearly banished the roadhouses which were once prominent as milestones along the various best-traveled road of Alameda county.

The wiping out of Chris Werren's old roadhouse in North Berkeley, just across the county line on the road to Contra Costa, for the purpose of selling the surrounding land in villa lots, adds one more to the list of "has been" roadhouses in the vicinity of the bay of San Francisco. But Werren's house, though somewhat picturesque, had small reputation abroad, apart from the notoriety attaching to its keepers in later years through the elopement of Werren's wife with a young carpenter when she took along about $1000 ot the Werren's savings.

There were, however, other wayside houses which were noted far and near for one reason or another. Beginning right here in Oakland when the city was in its infancy, there was established on the land now south of twelfth and east of Oak street, a resort with the imposing title of "Belle Vue du Lac; Rendezvous de Chasse." Of course with this name it may be readily imagined that the proprietor was a native of la belle France. His name was Blaise, and therefore the resort became known to a portion of its patrons as "the house of blazes." M. Blaise himself was a dignified, elderly man, with a long, white imperial and curling mustaches. He affected a gaily-colored and much decorated jacket, hunting boots, and trousers of Parisian cut. M. Blaise's chateau was surrounded by small oaks and shrubbery, and in the corner of the grounds forty years ago he caused a flagstaff to be planted from which he took pride in floating to the breeze on "14 July" the tricolor. M. Blaise on such occasions invited whoever might be his guests to drink with him to the sentiment, "Down with the Bastille."

ALMOST A SCANDAL. 

Often the "rendezvous de chasse" rang with merriment far into the night in the olden days, parties of pleasure-seekers coming from San Francisco and other cities and towns of the State to pass away a few idle hours in what was then a suburban retreat, "far from the maddening [sic] crowd" the poet speaks of. M. Blaise usually had in his employ a chef who could satisfy the most exacting palate, and hence epicures flocked there to enjoy the dinners this chef prepared and which M. Blaise served with the manner of a "grand signeus" which he was capable of doing because he really was descended, it was said by those who knew of his earlier history, from a family of the old nobility of France. However that may be, M. Blaise kept his resort with less scandal floating from its frolic-filled halls than is nowadays exuded from the so-called French restaurants of cities. Once, away in the late '60's, Blaise's resort came very near having a scandal. It was when the noted pianist, Gottschalk, was touring this country. He here was thrown in company with a high-spirIted young woman, daughter of a retired United States army officer, and "papa being away the mice did play." In some manner now forgotten, by the oldest inhabitant, Gottschalk induced the General's daughter to consent to dine with him at Blaise's "rendezvous de chasse." Evidently the dinner was exceptionally good, or the celebrated pianist was an exceedingly entertaining fellow, because the General's daughter forgot all about returning to her home a few blocks distant until her father and his menservants began smashing down M. Blaise's front door. There was then, it was said at the time, a hurried flight over back fences and across lots. Eventually Gottschalk and the young woman got to the General's house before the old warrior returned. and that was the end of it. It happened, however, that Gottschalk saw fit to cancel all his engagements about the bay and to take a hurried flight eastward by Panama steamer.

As time went by and settlers crowded about M. Blaise's resort its old-time patronage fell off. Eventually Blaise disappeared, other Frenchmen attempted to conduct the place, but it gradually fell lower and lower in public estimation, and perhaps, deservedly so, until the City Council declined to further permit its lessee to apply for a liquor license. That marked the end of the once-famous Blaise's resort.

THREE-MILE HOUSE. 

Joe Dieve's place, AKA Three-Mile House,
now 54th Ave & International Blvd

Before there were railroads running out of this city towards San Jose, Sacramento, Stockton and other cities of the interior, stage coaches daily left Broadway Wharf in this city, and Larue's wharf in San Antonio, (now East Oakland), laden with passengers for interior towns and cities. It was in those days that the wayside roadhouses thrived. First outside of Oakland was the "Three Mile House," on San Leandro road. It was in those days just a place to halt, give the stage horses a drink of water, and afford the passengers an opportunity, if they desired, to "wet their whistles.” Most of the men passengers seldom failed an invitation to "wet.” The Three Mile House in later days became noted under the ownership of the late Joe Dieve [Dieves] as a resort evenings for "young bloods'' of Oakland who drove their own rigs and used the smooth Leandro road as an exercising track. Sometimes these young men were said to take their best girl riding on moonlight nights out the road and as far as Hayward and on the return it was in order to step into Joe Dieves' side parlor, indulge in a few songs. a dance or two, and then return homeward.

It happened, however, that some of Joe's friends pulled off a dog and badger fight one night in Dieves' barn, the secret leaked out and after that it was considered "good form" for the roadsters to be seen hitched under Dieves' shed. When Peter Jackson, the colored prize fighter from Australia, was in his prime, he made his headquarters at Joe Dieves, resort, and the crowds which the scrapper drew there, although lining the landlord's purse, certainly did not elevate the atmosphere of the resort. But Jackson went him [sic] way, Dieves died, and the old Three Mile House is now just like many other roadhouses that are strewn along the San Leandro road.

Official and historical atlas map of Alameda County, California. Compiled, drawn and published from personal examinations and surveys by Thompson & West. Oakland, Cala. 1878 - David Rumsey collection

About a mile beyond the Three-Mile House stood the “Half-Way House" in olden days, the place being so named on the supposition that it was half way between Oakland and the county seat at San Leandro. It was little more than a saloon at its best. But once past the Half-Way House, the traveler going in the direction of San Jose, had no opportunity to "liquor up" until the stage-coach arrived at the Estudillo House in San Leandro. This public house was then one of the best in the country. In fact, the Estudillo House, taking its name from a famous old Spanish family which were the original grantees of the townsite, has always been a favorite resort. But the old-time stage coaches have given way to automobiles, and now the "nights are made glad with music" from the horns of chauffeurs in the vicinity of the inviting veranda of the Estudillo House. 

AT TONY OAKES'. 

The stopping place for stagecoaches in Hayward in the fifties was a the American Exchange Hotel, later conducted by "Yank" Anderson, and still later by the widely-known Tony Oakes. While Anderson and his predecessors, the Perkins family, conducted the hotel it was an ordinary wayside stopping place, its local patronage.being largely made up of the poker-playing citizens and a few table boarders. Tony Oakes landed in Hayward soon after the big flood of January, 1862, without a dollar. He had "gone broke" at a resort in San Mateo County. He had a wife and four boys, a guitar and a reputation as a caterer and a singer of ballads. For awhile Tony conducted the small hotel in Hayward known as "Deutsches Gasthaus," owned by Charles Spoerer. He eventually succeeded in buying "Yank" Anderson's lease of the American Hotel and changed its name to Tony Oakes' Hotel. A season of prosperity followed Tony, who had many old friends in the bay cities who continued to patronize him. Montgomery Queen, Lee and Ryland, and other circus men wintered at his resort. Queen, especially, was a very profitable guest, one entire winter keeping his large troupe of artists and his menagerie, at Oakes' place. Tony was an ideal landlord to those of a Bohemian nature who loved a good song and something good to eat and drink. He flourished until the electric railway linked Hayward with Oakland. Then he declared that the place had been cheapened. Instead of the customers who happened into his place, calling for champagne as in the old days, the guests by electric cars asked for V-cent beer and they wanted big glasses of it for their nickels.

In disgust Tony sold out and moved to "Klinknerville," now the Golden Gate district of this city. Ill-fortune followed the old man and he eventually retired to a little store at Alviso, a town where he had fifty years before acquired a block of land. There Tony sang his old songs for the few yokels, just as good-naturedly as he had sung for the edification of General Taylor when he was a mess boy in Mexico in 1847. He died a few years ago. The road house he conducted for so many years in Hayward is now conducted as a hotel by Mr. Vandervoort, formerly of Pleasanton.

Stage-coaches in the early days went by way of Alvarado, Centerville, "Nigger Corners" (now Irvington), Mission, San Jose and Warm Springs, thence on through historic Milpitas to San Jose. Alvarado had a hotel conducted by Mr. Liston, Centerville another with Mr. Gregory in charge, and at the Ex-Mission, San Jose, Colonel Sumner, a former Mexican war veteran, conducted the Washington Hotel. These hostelries were good places to sleep and eat in but had no special vogue as resorts.

AN EXQUISITE RESORT. 

But at Warm Springs, ah! There was the resort exquisite. There were natural warm springs with warm mud baths for the rheumatic guest; a beautiful garden filled with rare plants and flowers; a hotel and cottages for the exclusive guests; a dancehall for balls, and a climate unsurpassed for salubrity. Grapes, figs, oranges and all semi-tropical fruits, as well as those of the temperate zone, flourished in abundance.

But it was as a resort for those who loved to dance the hours away that the Warm Springs was noted. When the signal was sent out that a dance was to be given there the country-side turned out for miles and miles around. It was thought little of in the olden days to travel in buggies forty miles for the sake of participating in the pleasures of a grand ball at Warm Springs. But, alas, after the old Western Pacific railway was constructed through Niles Canyon Warm Springs was side-tracked. The resort was purchased by Leland Stanford and given to his brother Josiah, and festivity reigned no more in the old-time dance hall. The writer visited the resort in the late 80's to assist in surveying the warm Springs estate. The hotel was deserted and locked up as it had been for several months. The dance hall was just as the revelers had left it on the occasion of the farewell ball given the night before the property was turned over to the Stanfords. The floral decorations hung in dry festoons on the walls. Lamps partly filled with oil stood just as left by the janitor or whoever last left the hall after turning out the lights. Dust a half-inch deep covered the floor. Those lines from the old song, "Oft, in the Stilly Night," seemed to fit the scene which was full of melancholy interest: 

"I feel like one who treads alone,

    Some banquet hall, deserted; Whose lights are fled, whose garlands

dead. And all but he departed."

It was under the foregoing circumstances that one of the most famous of Alameda County's resorts and roadhouses was written off the map.

Across the hills, in the Sunol Valley, on the old stage road from the bay to Stockton and the southern mines, stood the roadside house of Madame Argenti. It flourished until a dreadful murder occurred there. Thereafter the place was shunned. But in its halcyon days the Argenti resort was famous for its hospitality, its good dinners and cheer for the weary traveler.

Few of the wayside houses in the old days were like Argenti's notorious because of crimes committed in them such as murders of travelers though the county held a considerable population of desperate characters. There were highwaymen and cattle thieves galore until Sheriff Harry Morse drove them to prison or to other scenes. Resort-keepers were jealous of the reputation of their houses. Though "May and December" often met and billed and cooed in the arbor-houses in Tony Oakes Hotel garden, it was his boast that no scandal ever tarnished the reputation of his hostlery. So of most of the others.

WAYSIDE ROAD HOUSES OF YE OLDEN TIME TO BLOG Tony Oakes Joe Dieves Sun, Jun 16, 1907 – Page 35 · Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) · Newspapers.com