A Story of Two Gold Country Towns

  When you drive up Banner Mountain on Banner Lava Cap Road, you are technically in the beautiful little Gold Country town of Nevada City, California. That's where my school bus drove Monday through Friday during the school year. Up Banner Mountain, down Banner Mountain. I went to school in Nevada City, first at the Elementary School, then at Seven Hills Intermediate School (which was brand spanking new when I started fourth grade).  I played in the volcanic red dirt under tall cedar, pine and oak trees with my sister Stephanie and all the neighborhood kids.  We shopped every Saturday at SPD Market (started by Mr. See, Mr. Painter and Mr. Dilley) and played at Pioneer Park.  

  At the top of Banner Mountain, you can make a right turn which takes you down Idaho Maryland Road.  Then you are technically in the little bigger Gold Country town of Grass Valley.  I always felt sorry for the kids that lived on Idaho Maryland Road, because they had to go to school in Grass Valley.  I loved my schools, and couldn't imagine schools in Grass Valley were in any way superior.  

  But, a great deal of my life was also spent in Grass Valley.  That's where my relatives lived, worked and attended church on my mom's side of the family.   My dad's side of the family moved to Grass Valley in the late 40's from San Carlos and owned Grass Valley Drug on South Auburn Street since 1949. They lived in a house (Villa Rusticana)  on Mainhart Drive that still remains vivid in my memories.  

  One street up from South Auburn  was Mill Street.  We shopped for shoes and clothes on Mill Street. Dr. Ross the optometrist was on Mill Street. The movie theater the Del Oro (Gold!) with it's unbelievable Art Deco murals was on Mill Street.  Piano lessons were on Mill Street. 

  The next street up was Church Street, home to the Grass Valley United Methodist Church and the Emmanuel Episcopal Church that were so important to my family stories. My Great Grandmother (Nana) Emma King Hayes VanDuzer lived up one more street on the corner of School and West Main.  My Uncle Jack Hansen lived across West Main Street from her in a house built by Uncle Bob Hansen. 

  So, really, we lived right in the middle of both towns when I was growing up, almost to the top of Banner Mountain.  I found this picture of my maternal  Grandfather, Harold Hansen, taken in June of 1928. It is titled "Hiked to Banner". He is on the right.  I sure don't know who Muriel or Neil were, or Yours Truly. But it is fun to ponder on how his trip went, which route they took, or how far they got. Maybe they got as far as the neighborhood where my childhood home was eventually built almost 40 years later. 

Here I am in 1968 or 69 on our back deck with Jay Smart. Banner Mountain. 

Welcome!

Welcome to my Blog! 

  This is where I grew up; beautiful Nevada City California.  More specifically, Banner Mountain (the mountain top in the upper right hand corner). Just looking at this picture of Broad Street brings back  many memories. How did my family come to be here in this unique place? 

  My genealogy journey really began when I was in grade school. I was deeply interested in history. I loved learning all about California history in 4th grade, and especially our local history of gold mining in the 1800's. I was always imagining myself living here way back when in the hustle and bustle of a new mining town. It helped that I had a best friend living at the top of Broad Street in a real Victorian house. It was certainly easier to gain a sense of time and place when you were walking around in the real thing.  
  Fast forward 40+ years and an Ancestry.com gift certificate later.  I found stories of relatives who actually walked these streets and worked as miners in a growing community. Talk about roots. Talk about having a sense of belonging to a place!

  5th grade was all about US History and westward expansion. I loved every minute of learning about pioneers coming across the prairie and settling in the west. For a history project I wrote a pretend diary of a girl coming west in a wagon train, and of all the hardships she and her family endured until they finally made it to California. I remember making the cover of my diary "authentic" by using  a grocery bag that I crumpled up and "aged".  I even wrote the diary using a real fountain pen. Boy was I a history geek. But, through my research and discoveries, I have found several families whose stories mirror what I wrote in my "diary". Families who ended up in California as well as Oregon. Families who eventually ended up in Gold Country.  My ancestors. 

Going back even further, I found that my ancestors seemed to be always moving...moving across the ocean, moving across a continent, moving across states, moving across town.  Each place they lived was more than just a pin drop on a map.  Where they lived and how they lived demonstrated a sense of place: A geographical place, a place in history, a place in a community, a spiritual place, and a place of belonging within a family. 

This blog is an attempt to document those journeys and honor the work begun by my Auntie Claire to research and archive our family history. This is dedicated to her, as well as my family and my children and grandchild. 

Each ancestor's  journey has culminated in our unique sense of place.