John Clum – The Later Years

In the spring of 1882, John Clum was washed-up in Tombstone. Being associated with the “Earp faction” who had fallen out of political favor due to their part in the OK Corral incident in October, 1881, Clum decided to head east taking a job with the United States Postoffice Department in Washington, DC. But “flying a desk” was way too tame for the only man who ever captured Apache renegade, Geronimo, at gun-point.

By February, 1885, Clum was back in Tombstone as a Postmaster, only to find the “Town Too Tough Die” in a decidedly dying state due to the decline in silver mining in the area. Ever the optimist John Clum wrote, “Familiar streets… a few familiar faces. Prosperity seems just around the corner.”

On Thursday, February 4, 1886, diarist George Parsons wrote in his journal: “Was asked by John P. Clum to stand as godfather for his child next Sunday at its baptism. The madame’s request. Complied.” That Sunday, February 7, 1886, Caro Kingsland Clum, then 26 months old, daughter to John P. and Belle Clum was baptized at Tombstone, George Parsons standing in as her godfather. (Belle Atwood was Clum’s second wife. His first wife, Mary Ware died from complications of childbirth in December, 1880. That union produced one son, Henry Woodworth Clum.) In a December, 2003 interview with Caro’s son, John Davidson “Dave” Vachon, noted that he was always proud to be associated with Parsons, the famed diarist being a life-long friend of the Clum family.

But prosperity was not going to return to Tombstone any time soon. Word reached Tombstone about a new “boom-town” in California; booming not because of silver or gold – but real estate and a burgeoning citrus industry. The place to be in the fall of 1886 was San Bernardino, California!

Together with his friend, Dan O’Connor, the firm of Clum & O’Connor – Real Estate and Insurance was born. The firm may have occupied an office in what was known as the Burt Building, but eventually found roomy and prestigious quarters on the first floor of the new Stewart Hotel on the corner of 3rd and E Streets.

Low-cost train fares, a burgeoning citrus market, and plenty of jobs all fueled San Bernardino’s economy, so much so that wild land speculation began to take place. Land, farms, orchards, and homes were bought and sold at a break-neck pace. The firm of Clum & O’Connor, and everyone else it seemed, was making money hand over fist.

The town was caught-up in a contagious excitement, “…depriving men of their reason and good sense.” No matter what their profession, it seemed everyone was in on the notion that owning a piece of California soil was the key to riches. And it was – for a while.

Some bought land sight unseen. Others bought land knowing there was no water on it, not sure if they could bring water to it. But it didn’t matter because they were going to sell the property to the next man to come along, probably in a day or two, and at a tidy profit. Land purchased for $2,000 could be sold the following week for $3,000 or in a few weeks for $5,000. It seemed the sky was the limit. Acres of property were cut into town lots where no town lots had any business being. The person who owned the now-subdivided lots amplified their profits many times over. An ad dated February 24, 1886, describes how potential real estate buyers were treated to a ride around the country to view the various properties up for sale. They were given a free lunch, free drinks, free fruit, and continuous band music.

Clum would later write, “A boom was on sure enough. We prospered… moved into spacious quarters on the ground floor of the Stewart Hotel Block. Believing in the future of the community, I immediately reinvested all my profits… save only living expenses… to buy more land… to make more profits. And buy more land. That is a fine formula… as long as the boom lasts.” Then, as in more recent times, the bottom fell out of the real estate market, and by the fall of 1888, the party was over.

Clum turned to promoting California citrus fruit to easterners as a way to bring more people to California to raise real estate prices again. He did indeed give a small boost to the California fruit industry, but the real estate market and the economy continued to suffer.

By the summer of 1890, after a short and very unsatisfying stint working for the San Francisco Examiner, Clum again found himself employed by the United States Postoffice Department as a postal clerk. Apparently, he did a good job because in October, 1890, the Postmaster General appointed Clum as Chief Clerk of the Division of Mail Depredations and Post Office Inspectors. The good part was it was a substantial promotion; the bad part was it was a desk job – something Clum hated.

In January, 1891, Clum transferred to Postal Inspector, a direct drop of one full rung on the post office political ladder, but a big step-up in job satisfaction. Clum would get to travel, and lead a more adventurous lifestyle! His job as “Postal Police” took him to Kentucky, West Virginia, Ohio, and Texas.

In Texas, Clum played a key role in breaking the Juarez Lottery Case. During that period, conducting a lottery was not illegal. However, using the U.S. Mail system to promote a lottery was. In March, 1891, the post office at El Paso was being flooded with lottery circulars addressed to people all over the country. In April, 1891, Postal Inspector John Clum and Inspector George Maynard, went to El Paso to investigate the large volume of mail that had so suddenly descended upon that post office.

What they discovered was the Juarez Lottery Company of Juarez, Mexico decided to save some money on postage, and mail their circulars through the El Paso post office. International mail at that time was five cents whereas domestic mail was two cents. Mailing thousands of pieces of mail made it worthwhile to take a short ride across the border. The intrepid Postal Inspectors lay in wait for the next courier to drop off the circulars. The “courier” turned out to be Nicholas Leipheimer, the president of the Juarez Lottery Company. Leipheimer was arrested along with several other Juarez Lottery operatives effectively ending the illegal activity.

Clum continued to have many adventures along the Texas/Mexico border over the next few years including a short stint as a United States Marshal.

As a representative of the Postoffice Department, Clum began doing something he found he loved to do, and for which he was well suited – giving illustrated lectures. One of his first was entitled, “America Picturesque.” The more talks he gave, the better they got. Always with a flair for the dramatic, he billed his talks with different, colorful, and even fanciful headings including; See America First, The Glories of America, Short Stories of Western Travel and the most unlikely, Ben Hur. What sounded like an epoch of old Rome was actually a story about how he had slept in the Governor’s mansion in Santa Fe while serving there as an Army Signal Corp weatherman. The bedroom in which he had slept was later host to New Mexico governor Lew Wallace, who was, of course, the author of the book, and later movie, Ben-Hur.

By 1897, Clum received another promotion and again found himself in Washington, D.C. – and another dreadful desk job. But his life was about to take a dramatic change, and he would have the adventure of a lifetime!

In August 1896, gold was discovered in Rabbit Creek, a stream that flowed into the Yukon River in Alaska. At first, small gold flakes were found in the stream-gravel – then nuggets! The first placer miners recorded their claims in the town of Fortymile and renamed the stream, “Bonanza Creek.” Within three weeks, claims were staked up and down the length of the creek.

On July 14, 1897, the steamer Excelsior, a wooden-hulled steam schooner, landed in San Francisco bringing with her over a half million dollars worth of gold. Along with the gold came fabulous stories of men finding gold nuggets just lying in stream beds waiting to be taken. News traveled quickly over the wire services and newspaper headlines screamed with news from the north. Soon, “Stampeders” were headed to Alaska to make their fortune. A few hearty Alaskan/Yukon miners had worked placer claims for several years – but this was different! It was gold-mania!

Miners in such a far-away place would need to communicate with friends and family “back home” and the mail system in Alaska was woefully inadequate. The Postoffice Department issued a call for a Postal Inspector to take the reins and build a postal infrastructure in Alaska, but no one applied for the job. Newspapers quipped that a government job going unfilled during tough financial times was unheard of. And then, John Clum stepped up to the challenge. He, like most people of that time, didn’t know much about Alaska. But what John Clum knew was he was tired of being chained to a boring desk job!

On March 9, 1898, John Clum left Washington, D.C. for the great unknown. With him he carried everything he would need to establish post offices along the route of the stampeders. Along the way, he picked up his son, Woodie, who was attending college in Ohio, and father and son set out on an epic journey!

Once in Alaska, father and son encountered one of the most amazing sights ever seen in the annals of human migration, and one that epitomizes the trek toward the gold – the climb up Chilkoot Pass; a narrow stairway of ice, wide enough for one would-be millionaire at a time, along with a weighty sack of supplies. Most “outfits,” a full compliment of necessities, weighed 1,000 pounds. Assuming a hearty man could carry a 100 pound load, it meant the agonizing trudge up the “Golden Staircase” must be made 10 times! Beside the “normal” supplies, some men carried products to sell. One man carried crates of chickens on his back. Eggs were sold at $2.50 a dozen on the trail. Clum called the Chilkoot Pass “one of the most accessible gateways to the land of nuggets, frosts, mosquitoes, scenery, and silence.” Alaska’s spring brings warm weather, mud, and hoards of voracious mosquitoes. Clum also made mention that at many places, the silence was deafening.

Clum spent the summer of 1898 establishing mail service all over Alaska. His last journal entry on September 4, 1898 signaled the start of a train ride from San Francisco to his home in Washington, D.C. and the end of his 6 month journey. He established 13 post offices and improved several others. Whereas the government had taken two years or more to establish a single post office in various outlying regions, Clum’s method took as little as 20 minutes!

In the summer of 1900, Clum again headed north as a Postal Inspector, spending much of his time in Nome where he ran across old friends, Wyatt and Josephine Earp, and the inveterate diarist George Parsons. In a diary entry for July 24, 1900 Parsons wrote, “Went up to see John Clum also yesterday. Same old John. Breakfasted with him this a.m.” In the same entry he wrote, “Meeting friends constantly – [Wyatt] Earp, etc.” It must have seemed like 1881 all over again!

Parsons and Clum evidently re-ignited their friendship. On Thursday, August 16th Parsons wrote; “Saw Clum tonight.” Then on Monday, August 27, 1900, Parsons wrote; “Clum introduced me to his friend [Ed] Englestadt tonight at [Wyatt] Earps’ place [Dexter Saloon] and he sang ‘Jurusalem’ [sic] with soprano and another woman accompanist. Strange sight – Earp dealing faro in corner, rough miners and some joining in the chorus. Strange mixture.”

Clum spent several years in Alaska in various positions with the Postoffice Department including a stint as Postmaster for Fairbanks where he endured temperatures of 60 below zero. He wrote, “The demon cold pursued us – silent, persistent, relentless.” It was a far-cry from Arizona temps of 118-plus degrees!

Eventually, Clum retired from the Postoffice Department and began yet another career as “Official Lecturer for the Southern Pacific Company,” giving a lecture series promoting America and tourism via rail. And who better for such a job than John Clum – a man who experienced, first hand, the opening of the last two frontiers in America; an uncommon achievement.

John Clum eventually landed, like many of his contemporaries, in Los Angeles where Wyatt and Josephine Earp and George Parsons were frequent visitors.

On the morning of Monday, May 2, 1932, John Clum rose as he did every morning, dressed, and while his third wife, Florence Baker fixed breakfast, went out to his beloved garden to putter about the roses. Moments later, he felt a deep pain in his chest and headed for the door to the house – but never reached it. In a moment, the man known as “Nantan” to the Apaches, “Mayor” to Tombstoners, and “Grandpa Clum” to his grandchildren, was dead.

Funeral services were held at Pierce Brothers Chapel, the same place that had seen services for Wyatt Earp in 1929. He was buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park. Among the pall bearers was son Woodworth Clum, noted Arizona historian Dean Frank Lockwood, then-present Indian Agent for the San Carlos Apache reservation where Clum served from 1874 to 1877, James B. Kitch, noted Arizona lawman Fred Dodge, and family friend, George Parsons. (Parsons had served as pall bearer for Clum’s first wife, Mary Ware Clum, over 50 years prior!)

John Clum led a truly fascinating and uncommon life. But for all he was and all he did, perhaps his granddaughter, Hortense “Vicki” Vachon Grant, best summed up his life when this writer interviewed her in the summer of 2006 – “To us, he was just Grandpa Clum, a refined and elegant gentleman.”