Hysterical Journey to Historic Places

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RATTLESNAKE DICK

His real name was Richard Barter. He was a hoser, born in Quebec in 1833. When his folks went up the flume in 1850, or so, he and his siblings all moved to Oregon. They settled in at Sweet Home near Corvallis, but Richard, his brother, and a cousin got gold fever and came down to California hoping to gather in a few bushels of gold just laying around on the ground. They wound up on Rattlesnake Bar working for wages. All of the paying claims around there had already been filed on. The brother and cousin soon gave up when they discovered that gold mining was actually a hard go, for short dough. They went back to Sweet Home, but Richard stayed and became a horse thief. Pals started in calling him Rattlesnake Dick.

In 1853 he was convicted of grand larceny and sentenced to a year in San Quentin. When he got out he took up with the outlaw Tom Bell and became a top hand in the banditry trade. Bell got himself killed in 1856 and Snake took over running the outlaw gang. There was a rich lode mine up near Nevada City that had a smelter. One day Snake decided to send his pal, George Skinner up there to knock over the gold shipment from the smelter. George made off with booty amounting to $40,600, but he was quickly run down and killed and all of the bullion was recovered.

Mark Twain once commented that a gold mine was nothing but a hole in the ground with a liar on top of it. In typical mining fashion the company claimed that the robbers stole $80,600, and that the robbers must have buried half the stolen shipment. Folks thereabouts have been looking that lost treasure ever since. The simple fact of the matter is that it never existed except as a tool to extort investors, and provide a margin for future embezzlement by the company officials. In the meantime Snake got himself arrested again for being in possession of some stolen mules. His lawdogs got him released on bail and he believed those lies about the robbery loot so he took off to go find it. After skulking around for a few weeks he had to give up and go back to ordinary robbing and killing. In February of 1857 the gang knocked over a Wells Fargo safe in Fiddletown and robbed a few stagecoaches, making off with booty amounting to about $30,000. The gang prospered enough to keep themselves one jump ahead of the law, and provide the lawdogs with a fair amount of walking around money. The luck ran out for Snake and his pal Cyrus Skinner (George’s brother) on July11, 1859. They were headed up the stagecoach road from Auburn towards Foresthill and got ambushed by a posse. In the ensuing gunplay a deputy tax collector named George Martin was killed, and the undersheriff was wounded in the hand. Snake and Cyrus were both wounded but got away. Snake only made it about a mile up to the Junction House. He did not want to back to San Quentin so he blew his brains out there. Cyrus was caught and served a good long sentence.

For some reason Rattlesnake Dick is thought of fondly in Auburn. Celebrations are routinely held at his grave, which has a nice marker. There are signs marking the location of the gunfight, and where his corpse was found. Since then only Donald Trump has managed to live a more nefarious life.

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Photos

RATTLESNAKE DICK SIGN
The gunfight was right there on Lincoln Way near the railway underpass that you have to through if you are on your down to the river.

RATTLESNAKE DICK DIED BY SUICIDE HERE
The Junction House no longer exists, but the marker for it is in the Raley's parking lot where the road heads off to the Foresthill Bridge.