From: The History of Santa Cruz County [California]. Thomas Corcoran. This gentleman is a native of County Carlo, Ireland, and was born December 11, 1827. His father was a farmer, and emigrated to America the next year after Thomas was born. Mr Corcoran's boyhood was spent with his father. When the Mexican War began he enlisted in the American army, and served a short time as a teamster. After the discovery of gold in California he joined the westward emigration. Mr Corcoran's company crossed the Missouri River at Omaha in a flat boat, swimming their horses and cattle. Their pilot was Greenwood, an old Rocky Mountain guide. The captain of the train was P.B. Cornwall, since a resident of Santa Cruz. The trip was devoid of accident.

Arriving in California, Mr Corcoran went to the Yuba River country and engaged at mining, his only implements being a butcher knife, a wooden crowbar, and a tin pan. Even with this crude apparatus he managed to take out from three to four ounces of gold per day. After he had saved about $2,000 worth of dust, he started to visit Mart Murphy, an old acquaintance who was living on the McCozzum River, near Sacramento. On the trip his gold was stolen. His friend loaned him money to buy a new outfit and get back to the mines again, also two pack horses loaded with blankets and shoes to sell at the mines. Mr Corcoran went this time to Woods Creek, Tuolumne County. He sold the blankets at $75, and the shoes at $16 a pair. In a very short time he had replaced his lost $2,000, and had another $2,000 with it.

From mining Mr Corcoran went to teaming, and then engaged in general merchandise trade, at San Andreas, California, where he remained until 1858. Good success attended him in all his undertakings, and he accumulated a comfortable fortune.

Mr Corcoran relates many interesting amusing stories of early days. Among them may be mentioned his tale of the circumstances attending the discovery of one of the richest gold mines in Tuolumne County. Mr Corcoran, with a number of his companions, most of them just from the Mexican War, was mining in the bed of a river, when a part of New England men came along and asked for advise as to where was the best place to dig. Now the ex-soldiers had small love for the Yankees, because the latter had opposed the war with Mexico. So they instructed the strangers to dig on top of a neighboring hill, where they told them prospects were excellent, but where they really thought was the very last place on earth that gold might be. The Yankees did as directed, to the great glee of Mr Corcoran and his comrades. The jokers did not laugh long, however, for in a very short time the verdant strangers from Yankee-land had reached a pocket of pure gold dust, which netted them several thousand dollars apiece.

In 1853 Mr Corcoran was united in marriage to Miss Bridget McGraw. Three children were born to them: Frank, Mary, and Hannah. His wife died in 1885. His children are now grown.

From Calaveras County Mr Corcoran moved to San Joaquin, and afterwards Santa Cruz. In San Joaquin he joined the society of California Pioneers, in which he still retains his membership. His life here has been one chiefly of leisure. Much of his time is devoted to crayon work and painting pictures, to which work he is very much attached, and at which he has won considerable success. Several of his pictures have been awarded premiums at the Santa Cruz County Fair, and also at the San Jose District Fair.

I had a great-great uncle, Thomas Corcoran. He and his family were Irish immigrants who first settled in Quebec, then migrated to Atchison County in 1842. They settled in a place they called Irish Grove. A number of their fellow Irish immigrants had also settled there, namely, the Martin Murphy family, the Martin family and the Sullivan family. In 1844, the Murphys, Martins and Sullivans joined a party that emigrated to California. Then in 1848, because of his lung fever, Thomas Corcoran, 24 and single, decided to go to California as well, and he joined the P. B. Cornwall wagon party that left that spring, immediately after which the rest of his family left Atchison County to rejoin other family members in Wisconsin.

Later, in 1879, Thomas returned to Atchison County to visit friends, likely former neighbors.

I have copies of two letters that Thomas wrote to his sister in Wisconson. One describes his trip to California, and the other is about his visit to the Irish Grove area in 1879. They ware both wonderful letters and may be of interest to you, as he mentions people who lived in the area in 1848 and in 1879. If you would like copies, let me know and I will send them to you. I am also certain that you are familiar enough with the families, countryside and early history to enlighten me on a few matters. For one, I would be curious where Irish Grove was. My impression is that it might be Milton. Thomas also writes of crossing the Missouri River on a ferry boat in 1848. It may have been at St. Josephs, but there were other places up the river from St. Josephs as well. Would you know of other principal ferry crossings that would be closer to Atchison County? Finally, do you think records of his family's sale of their farm in 1848 exist? If so, it may reveal the precise location of the farm. Do you know of any current descendants of the Seymour family that Thomas refers to in his 1879 letter? Hoping to hear from you, I am, Michael LaSalle 13771 Excelsior Avenue Hanford, CA 93230 (559) 582-6138 lasallem@lightspeed.net EarthLink Revolves Around You.

Thomas Corcoran Letters - This section contains letters written for Thomas Corcoran (he could neither read or write). These letters have been discovered as of May 5, 1877. Thomas Corcoran, the youngest of ten children, was born in the Townland of Kilcoltrim, near the village of Borris, County Carlow, Ireland, in 1825.

The family emigrated to Quebec, Canada, in 1828. Seven of the children left home, some of them ending up on farms near Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. In 1841, the parents and three of the children, including Thomas, emigrated to a farm near St Joseph, Missouri. Thomas contracted an ailment that was described as lung fever. He was told by a doctor, that he would die unless he moved to California. In the spring of 1848, he left for California.

The rough draft of the following letter to Thomas' sister was recently found in an old copy book:

I have made up my mind to send you a letter at last. I would write often but I cannot write my own letters. I had Ellen Murphy write one for me in 1849. I was hoping you would come out here at that time. I shall never forget the day I bid you goodby in March 1848. My mother could hardly shake hands with me. She said I would die on the way and have no friend to bury me.

I had a long tedious journey. I suppose that you remember that Mike (Thomas' brother) went with McKisie, the man to whom I sold the cattle, to help him drive them to his place. As they started some time before me, I did not catch up to them till sometime in the afternoon. Then McKisie told me to go on and directed me where to find his house and how to get in. He said that they would be there in time to get supper, but it was after dark when I reached there. After putting my mare in the stable and feeding her some with some corn, I went to find my way into the house. I had no light or matches to strike. So when I got in I groped around in the dark until I found a bed. It was very cold and I coughed a great deal. I laid down without any supper and went to sleep. The bed was very good and I slept soundly all night. I was very glad when I woke up and found that it was daylight. When I got up I went to McKisie's brother's place about a half mile away and had breakfast. Mike and MaKisie did not get there with the cattle until about 10 o'clock that morning.

My cough was very bad all the time. I coughed up blood until I got to the Rocky Mountains. Then I got better, but I never got over the effects of that sickness that I had in Missouri.

I am going to try to give you a small sketch of my adventures crossing the plains. The first was crossing the Missouri River. The company and teams were all across except Cornwall and me. Cornwall was one of the men that came to the party you gave for me before I left home. Old Doc Hann and his son-in-law served a summons on me to appear in court in 60 days or pay a forfeit of $65 for the cattle trespassing on his land. They caught hold of my mare slipper and were going to take her. Cornwall told me to get on her back. Doc Hann asked him who made him. Cornwall answered and said a better man than than ever made you. At the same time, he pulled out a six-shooter and a knife. He told me to get on the ferry boat that had just come across the river. Old Doc stood and watched us cross the river and then went home. That same Cornwall is now president of the California Coal Company.

The second problem we had was on the Platte River (Nebraska). The Pawnee Indians were trying to steal from us. They kept shooting around us all day. We traveled all night to get to the Sioux Indians who were friendly with the whites. I slept in a wagon part of the night with my rifle and pistol by my side, ready for an attack. Other men rode on each side of the wagons. We came to a half-about at daybreak near a little bend in the Platte River. The sleeping men were awakened and rode guard while the others slept. Shortly after sunrise, I walked about a mile ahead of the wagon train and saw about six Indian warriors coming down on us. I hurried back to the camp and told them what I had seen. They corralled the wagons and made a line of defense with them. We had an interpreter with us by the name of Fallon. He went out to meet them. They told him that they had been fighting with the Sioux Indians that morning and about sixty of their tribe has been killed. They told us that we must give them provisions and clothing. We told them that we had nothing to give them. They had their bows strung and were all ready to fire on us. They were all around us and each of us had a pistol in one hand and a rifle in the other, waiting to see which would fire first. They got around in front of the wagon in which I had slept and one of them took hold of my blankets. He was going to carry them off. I got up on the tongue of the wagon and pushed him away. They then made a break and stole all of Young's blankets. This was the Young that lived in Hayes Grove. Then we leveled our rifles at them and they took to their heels and ran. We then hitched our teams to the wagons and drove to the Sioux village and arrived that evening. The Sioux were glad to receive white travelers and they hoisted the American flag on a pole. They told us that we could go thru their Nation in peace but not to kill any more buffalo than we needed to eat. They said that they were their cattle. Sometimes we used to kill three or four of them a day just for the sport of killing them. Five or six of us would get on our horses in the morning and hunt all day. We would find a nice green patch about noon and roast some for dinner. About sundown, we would strike out for the wagons, bringing plenty of fresh meat for the whole party for supper, breakfast and dinner the next day. Every night we would stand guard in two hour shifts. After I stood guard for a about a week, the boys went to the wagon train captain and told them that I coughed so much at night that they would stand my guard, so I didn't have to stand night guard anymore.

When we came to the south fork of the Platte River, I came across a band of buffalo and ran a calf down and caught it with my rope. Slipper threw me and when I recovered, the buffalos were bellowing all around me. I got on my horse and got safely away with the calf. I tried to bring the calf back to camp alive but it gave out on the way and I had to kill it. I tied the loins and hind quarters to the back of my saddle and struck out for camp. When I got to the South Fork, the oxen teams were already across the river. The river was about a half mile wide and looked like a running sea of water. I was a little frightened for I could not swim. I ventured in an found that it did not average more than three or four feet deep, so I got to the other side in safety.

When we reached Fort Laramie (Colorado) ---- ----- ----[text missing] back on his bargain. He said it was too much for his family to cook for so many. I made arrangements to board with one of the Ohio men, who name was Parks, for one and a half dollars a week all of the way across. They would also carry my clothes and blankets. They were a very good family. I sold my provisions at Fort Laramie and made $150 in the transaction.

Nothing of note happened until we came to Soda Springs. Fallen and Gunthrie said that they knew a cut-off that would shorten the distance 200 miles. They knew all the Rocky Mountain country as they had been trading and trapping in this country for the last 25 years. They were going to start next morning as they were tired of stopping and traveling so slow with the oxen drawn wagons. They coaxed me to go with them. The three of us were to start at 6 o'clock the next morning. I bought an Indian pony to carry my clothes and other things. They came after me at the appointed time but I was asleep. Fallen asked Parks to wake me but Parks made some excuse and said that I would not be able to stand the trip. When I awoke, they had already started. I had never slept as long as I did that morning. We heard no more of Fallen or Gunthrie until we got to the Truckee River. There were some Snake Indians who came along with us. As they were out hunting on the river, they came across some wild Indians. They told them that there were two men who came ahead of us and that they had had a fight with the Indians for two days. The Indians had them corralled in a bunch of timber. Somehow, they escaped during the night and were never heard from again. It was supposed that they perished from wounds or starvation.

When we came to the truckee River, we heard of the discovery of gold in California. I left the wagon train with a man named Greenwood. I gave him one of my horses and he rode the other and we started for the golddiggings. The first night, we stopped in the Seirra Nevada Mountains at Donner Camp. It was here that about half of the emigrants died of starvation during the winter of 1846-47. The next morning, Greenwood showed me six or seven of the skulls lying around. That night, he told me the most horrible story about the starving party. He was sent by Captain Sutter to pilot relief parties to the suffers. He showed me where three of his toes had been frozen off. The first time, they took all of those who were able to travel as well as the young folks and children. They left several of them behind and when they came back again, Mrs Donner was dead. There was a family with them all that winter who came out on the same ship from Ireland, nearly fifty years ago. I think that they were distant relatives of father's. Their name is Breen. None of that family starved and they came safe to California. The old man and woman are dead now.

We left Donner Camp next morning about six o'clock and traveled till noon. We were descending a steep hollow with the expectation of finding some water where we could eat lunch. It was all covered with thick timber. When we got into the valley, there were about 500 Indians before us. We unstrapped our rifles and cocked them but as soon as the Indians saw us, they ran like wild deer excepting some old ones that did not get away until we came right on them. They offered us some roasted grasshoppers and we gave them two biscuits. We rode along leisurely, keeping our eye on them till we got out of sight. They we galloped as fast as our horses could go. We traveled 'til 11 o'clock that night. We then turned off the trail so that the Indians could not track us. After we had gone about a quarter of a mile, we came to a halt, took off our saddles and staked our horses out to graze. When we lay down to sleep, we were so tired that we slept till sun-rise. When we looked around, we found that we were on the summit of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. We saw a beautiful little lake called Lake Bigler. We saddled our horses and went back to the trail where we found fresh Indian tracks. We saw no more Indians till we arrived at the gold diggings. Next evening about sunset, we came to a camp of white men from California who were going to meet their relatives that we had left behind us in the wagon train. It was lucky for us as we only had four biscuits left. When we come to thank them, one of them was Hunsucker that lived in Nishnabatona, Atchinson County, Missouri. They were the first to show us gold dust. Next day we arrived at Johnson's Ranch on the Bear River (Probably near Eimgrant Gap, Placer county). I bought a hundred weight of flour for $16, some dried beef, a pick, shovel and a tin pan (gold washing pan). We then had to go 16 miles to the Yuba River.

I turned out slipper and the pack horses to grass and went to mining. I used to wash from one to four ounces a day. I was so taken up with the gold that I never thought of Slipper. When I went to look for her and the pack horse, they had strayed away. I never saw either of them again.

I sold an overcoat that I had bought from Vernal Thompson for six ounces (of gold). I also sold my rifle to an Indian for $100. I worked there for three weeks and got together about $1000 in gold dust.

Then I got chill and fever and I made up my mind to go south and see some acquaintances that came from Missouri in 1844. I hunted another day for the horses. I walked till evening when I came across my old friend, Park where he is living in what is still known as Park's Bar. He had just got to the mines. There was also another man with him who was named Pringle. He had crossed the plains with us. I told Park about the loss of my two horses. He told me that he had a fine American mare that he would let me have if I would take care of her during the winter. He told me that if I should lose her, I was to pay him $200 whenever I should see him. I never saw him afterwards but I saw his wife and son in Sacramento two years later and I paid her the $200.

I started for Sutter's Fort the next morning and I got there, the following night. The first person that I knew was Mr Bray. We used to know him in Missouri. He came here with the Murphys in '44. He was very glad to see me. He had the keys to Sutter's Fort. He put my horse in the stable and I stayed with him overnight. Next morning, I started for Martin Murphy's ranch on the Cosumnes River (Approximately 25 miles southeast of Sacramento). I had gone no more than one mile on my journey when I felt in back of my saddle where my clothes were tied. This bundle contained my gold dust and I found that the bundle was missing. I rode back to the fort, thinking that I would find it on the way, but I never did. You can imagine how badly I felt. I had lost everything that I had except the $100 that I had brought from home.

Now, dear sister, I will conclude this letter about my travels in California at some other time. I will add a few lines about home and the present.

We are all well as usual. Dennis is well and so is Owen and his family except Ellen. She had erysipelas. She was taken sick a week ago last Monday. We had a letter from her today telling us that she was better.

We had a very dry season this year. Some farmers did not harvest enough grain for seed. I had four thousand bushels of wheat, but if it had been a good year, I would have had ten thousand bushels. Wheat was selling a month ago for $2.50 per cwt and now it is selling for $2.00. I have not sold mine yet.

I was in San Jose last spring and I saw nearly all of the Canadian folks that we used to know when we were little.

Daniel Murphy celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of his birth so that leaves me about 50 now. He had the picture that Father O'Grady gave him when he made his first Communion. I wish you had mine or know where it is. You can send it to me. I never forgot how you taught me my Catachism. When I would get into trouble in California, I would remember the prayers you taught me and I would repeat them. If it is to be that we shall never meet on this earth, I hope we shall meet in Heaven. I received Communion last Sunday. I belong to a Total Abstinance Society that receives Communion three times a year. I have a likeness of myself taken last winter. I am going to send it to you with this letter which will go by express. Our Pioneer Soc had pictures of all of our members taken. They are framed and hung up in the Pioneer Society Hall.

I want to know if Mike is as pious as he was when he used to say the Rosary for us in Canada. Give this letter to Mike and Patrick and Margaret. As long as I do not write myself, I do not often feel in the homor to send a letter often. I hope this will find you in good health and doing well. I send my best wishes and love to all of you and hope to hear from you soon.

I remain as ever, your loving brother,

Thomas Corcoran

(Notes in parenthesis have been added by Edward G. Corcoran, the grandson of Thomas Corcoran,1825-1904)

Dear Sister,

I take my pen in hand to write you these lines, hoping to find you in good health as this leaves me at present. Received your letter on the 10th of this date. I felt glad to hear that you and family are well but it made me feel very bad to hear that Mother was so low. Times rolls on so rapidly. I thought she was young yet. You must excuse me for not writing to you for you know, for you know i cannot write myself. I did not know that you had moved away from your old place and I did not know the reason why Mother had quit living with you. Owen wrote a letter telling that she was living with them and I think there is no malicious falsehood about my Mother being tosssed around. I t was a misunderstanding, them words. Malicious falsehoods seem to spiteful that I wish you would look over these peoples' faults as you would wish them to look over your faults. There is no one that is faultless and there is no one that I know of that wish to injure you or yours.

Dennis is well but he has no children nor wife. Him and his wife have been parted since 1852. I have answered that letter you wrote 3 years ago and the note you sent to Ellen Murphy. Her address is as follows: Mrs E. Eber, Stockton, California.

I am sorry to hear that Margaret's (his oldest sister) health is so poor. We have lost four children, 3 girls and a boy. We have 2 girls and 1 boy living. Our boy's name is Frank, aged 8 years; our oldest girl's name is Hannah, aged 13 years past and our youngest child's name is Mary Ann, aged 5 years. So you see I am getting to be an old man.

We had a very wet winter. Not later than the 12th of this date, we had a flood. We raise very good crops in California. The least we raise a year is from 9 to 10 thousand bushels (600 acres).

I will now bring my letter to a close. All the family joins in sending their love and best respects, so no more at present from your affectionate brother,

Thomas Corcoran

My wife send her love and best wished to old Mrs Longergon.

Stockton, California, Nov 10, 1879

Dear Sister Elizabeth:

After leaving Fond duLac, I arrived safe in St Louis and found Ann without any trouble. Her and family were all well. I went to church with one of her sons on Sunday. In the afternoon, I went to the Fairgrounds and saw the Balloon ascension. I saw two men going up in it that were never seen since.

When I was leaving St Louis, Ed Byrne (Ann Corcoran's boy by her first husband) gave me the address of McCarty's cousin in Sioux City. McCarty's father was married to my aunt (Nelly Greenan Corcoran, widow of Laurence Corcoran). I left St Louis Monday morning, only stayed there two nights.

I stopped at St Jo's (Mo.) one night and saw one of the Rigneys and the widow of the other Rigney. I started the next morning at 2 o'clock and at daylight, I arrived four miles from Irish Grove at a depot on the railroad called Corning. There was a wagon there that took me within a half mile of Leander Seymour's about ten o'clock that morning. I saw Leander and John Semour. They are all well but John Seymour is dead. Leander Seymour's mother was the first one I saw and she said she recognized me by my voice. After dinner the first day, (noon) they unharnessed their teams, saddled three horses and showed me where we lived. Our old grain field in the timber is a pasture since we left it. It has grown so think with timber, that you could not see twenty yards through it. In our old cellar, there has grown a tree that measures two feet through. I went down the old path where we used to get water and it has completely dried up. There has been no water in it for five years. There is a gully washed a hundred feet deep where the spring was. Then we went up where Norris used to live and from there, he showed me the grave yard where my father is buried (1844). There was the finest field of corn I ever saw around the grave yard. Where they are buried, no one has ever plowed out the fences are all rotted down and some trees that had grown there were cut down. I tried to buy a quarter acre of ground where the graves are. I spoke to Jim Enright since I came back and he told me that he would help to pay for it and also fix it up with an iron railing around it.

The next day, John and Leander Seymour and I went up to English Grove. We had dinner at Barthin Helms. She is well but all her beauty is gone and left -- plenty of fat and wrinkles instead. She had a Quilting Bee there that day. She has two daughters married and she is married to the second husband herself. She is as funny as ever. She inquired about you and Mike. She was glad to hear from you. Then we came back by the Larkins. There is a big road that way now and fine groves of lumber have grown there since we left. Doc Snow and his wife are dead and his second wife is running through the property as fast as she can. We got back to Semour's about dark. Next morning, we started down by where Enrights used to live. We went down by the lake at Larkins where I used to catch Muskrats. It is all dried up now and a good corn field is in it's place. There is a town now this side of where John Martin used to live in the Larkin bottom. We went to see Mrs Graves. Her husband died last winter. It is all settled up the other side of the Larkins -- all fine farms there. They raise 60 to 80 bushels of corn on them old fields, yet they never manure them. The land that I had in timber that I sold for $20 per acre was sold last year for $10 per acre. Corn is worth only 15 or 18 cents per bushel there. Then they went down to the depot and saw me off.

I arrived in Council Bluffs that evening. I started next morning and arrived in Sioux city at 12 o'clock. I saw McCarty right away. He's keeping store there. Next day, I bought 480 acres for $1200 down in Woodbury County. I went back to Council Bluffs the next day. The following morning, I started for home and arrived home four days later all well and found everybody well. They thought that I had made a quick trip.

I was very disapointed at your not coming to see me off that morning. Mike's son Frank (Allita Jenning's father) arrived here about a week after I did. He seems to like the country better every day.

I would have written sooner but I was busy putting in my summerfallow.I just got through Saturday and we had a good rain yesterday. I went to see Frank and Mary at their schools in San Francisco and San Jose (St Mary's College and Notre Dame Accademy) after I cam back. Frank is doing well and is contented. I found Mary lonesome and homesick and would rather be home. I took her out a day and a night to Martin Murphy's folks who live seven miles from where she is going to school. We called on Jim Enright on our way back. They are all well. I took her back to school the next day better contented than when I took her out. I came back by San Francisco and saw Frank again. I also saw Owen's folks and they are all well. I brought home a large drawing of Frank's on which he got a premium at the State Fair.

All the folks join in sending our love and best wishes and hoping to hear from you soon. I remain your affectionate brother,

Thomas Corcoran

(Words in parenthese added by Edward G. Corcoran)

I am down here in Santa Cruz again and Mary is keeping house for me. I have to use crutches now. There is a numbness in my arms caused by leaning on the crutches so much. My whole side seems to be numb. I find out that this is pretty hard world to what it was when we were young in Canada and Missouri. I suppose the Lord is punishing me for my sins. I always prayed to be afflicted in this world for my sins so I would not suffer in the next, but I do not pray for that now. I was talking to Jim Enright to-day. They are living in Santa Cruz now. He send his regards to you. We were talking about ages. He says he is 65 and that I am as old as he is. I received a letter from Hannah the other day. She sent the letter that your daughter, Mary, wrote. I was very glad to hear from you and it gave me lots of news that I wanted to hear. I would like you to write me and tell me how Mike's daughter, Johanna, is. I think she lives near you. I liked her very much. I was glad to hear that Margaret and Mary (Elizabeth Lonergan's daughters) was well. I was awful sorry to hear about Dennis' eyes. (Thomas brother, Dennis, who was going blind and had moved in with his sister, Ann, in St Louis.) Remember me to Patrick (Thomas brother). I am glad the son is married to a Corcoran because they never turn out bad.

I cannot paint now. My hand is too numb. I will send you a specimen of my work at the heading of this letter. I did not know that I could be an artist when we were together. I took to painting when I got so lonesome when my wife died. I thought it would be better company for me than in saloons. I sold one picture for $25 to go back to Minneapolis. I cannot bear to live at home since she died.

I have several houses here for rent. The smallest one got burned the other day. The insurance men are rebuilding it now. I never saw so many people work with such good will. They saved everything, even the smallest article. I begin to feel as my mother did when she was getting old. I feel that I will go to where she is before very long.

Frank says they will begin to harvest soon. They cut and thrash with one combine machine. Where we are living in Santa Cruz is on a hill just above the beach. We are about 200 yards from the beach and about 80 or 90 feet above the sea. I remember that they used to call me "Yellow Melot" when I was at home but now I am the whitest one here and I weigh 197 pounds. Mary has gained two pounds since she got here two weeks ago. There is a man here by the name of Corcoran who donated 20 acres to the Catholic Ladies Aid for an old ladies home.

Hoping this will find you well and please write soon, I remain your loving brother,

T. Corcoran

Dear Sister:

It is a long time since you and me have been children together. I have been studying on it all winter. I am going to send you a long letter to see if you recollect things that happened in our childhood when we used to be going to Catechism. When we used to be piling rocks in the field together, how lazy we used to get sometimes and then when we came to Missouri you were riding my black mare and she commenced dancing and she throwed you on a bunch of rails and you got up and you wasn't hurt, and when we used to be picking wild plums together. I thought of all these things when I was very sick. I thought my time had come. I had the priest and was Anointed. The Lord wasn't willing to take me then. I am getting better now. Thank God. It was about two weeks I didn't know anything. Then my neighbors wrote Frank and he came down and stayed two or three weeks and then he had to go home and take care of his ranch.

When I went to see you in Wisconson, I went to Irish Grove. Then I went to see Leander and John Semour and they didn't do a thing that week but to take me out riding and showed me everything. We stopped nearly a day at Bartina Helm's. We had dinner there. She has a big grown family now. She was married twice and looks very old now. Then they took me to our fathers grave. I couldn't find it. It was full of trees that we cut down. The old wooden fence was rotted down. If I could find him (fathers grave), I was going to dig up his bones and bring him to California. I knelt down and said my prayers. I had a cold and cough when I knelt down and after saying my prayers, I was well. They took me to the man that owner the land. He would sell an Acre fo $100. I thought that all of the relatives of the ones that were buried there would build a stone wall around it.

When I cam back, Jim Enright said he would throw a hundred dollars in for his share. The murphy's and the rest of them didn't. They said it would be no use. Then I went up to Sioux City and I saw McCarty and his fine big family. He took me to church with his folks. They were the best dressed people I ever see. He introduced me to lots of folks from Carlow that knew our father in Ireland. He told me that he was the Captain of the ball players in carlow. The Carlows beat the Kil kennys and they were going to have a free for all fight about which beat. Any my father, he stopped it. They made a proposition to fight their Captains next morning and father whipped him. McCarty told me to buy 800 or 1,000 acres of land. The grasshoppers had been in it the year before and the land was verre cheap. There was 700 acres there for sale, so I finally bought it. I and $300 and McCarty loaned me the balance. I wouldn't have bought it but you thought they would send their sons to buy land there, for I knowed there was lots of money in it. I got McCarty to write letters to all of them and they didn't come, so I sold it in three years and got three times what I paid for it. Now the land is worth five times what I paid for it. I bought $5 worth of alfalfa seed to send to McCarty. I don't know if he is alive or dead. I wish you would find out. McCarty gave me a letter for his sister. She is married and lived in Oakland, California. I would like to know what her name is. She might come down to Santa Cruz and I wouldn't know her.

There are many people in Santa Cruz now. There is quite a boom here. I expect Frank down in three or four weeks. I can tell how you can get cured with rheumatism. If you give a small charity to the Sisters of Charity for the Honor of God and St martin and I'll pray for the Lord to cure you. God never refused my prayer yet.

I send my love to you and hope we will meet in Heaven.

I remain your affectionate brother,

Thos Corcoran

Note: Words in parenthes have been added by Edward G. Corcoran. Grammer or words have not been corrected, however, sentences have been broken up to make the text more readable.