The Oct. 7 election could be considered the one of the most
historic
– not to mention outstandingly bizarre – in California and
American politics. The eyes of the world are on the state’s recall
of Grey Davis and the horde of gubernatorial wannabees to possibly
replace him.
The Oct. 7 election could be considered the one of the most historic – not to mention outstandingly bizarre – in California and American politics. The eyes of the world are on the state’s recall of Grey Davis and the horde of gubernatorial wannabees to possibly replace him.
But the Nov. 3 election of 1868 might also be considered just as historic for the nation. And that’s because of one vote that was cast that year by a certain Charley Parkhurst in Santa Cruz County.
Ulysses S. Grant, the Civil War general and heroic celebrity won the presidential race, and Charley’s history-making vote is virtually forgotten. But that single vote in 1868 has a story behind it even stranger than many of the candidates seeking the governor’s office this coming Tuesday.
In the mid-19th century, Charley worked in the Central Coast region of California as a “whip,” the professional term for a stagecoach driver.
The dirt roads traversing the mountains were treacherous in those days, especially through the Santa Cruz Mountains and the Pacheco Pass areas.
But Charley was considered the best in the business in guiding teams of horses pulling passengers and freight in the box-like stagecoach vehicles.
Charley was famous among the local whips for possessing great skill, courage and strength in handling horses. The stagecoach driver’s personality was notoriously coarse and cold, and Charley often used profanity while driving over the region’s wild terrain – certainly offending the ears of delicate Victorian era passengers.
In 1858, during a stage run near Redwood City, Charley was kicked in the face by a horse, losing an eye and gaining a deformed jaw. Charley’s lips were frequently stained with tobacco juice and – unusual for the profession – he never grew a beard. In fact, Charley possessed a big secret, and kept that secret until death. Although pretending to be a man, Charley Parkhurst was actually a woman.
Born Charlotte Parkhurst in 1812, she began the deception in her teenage years in Vermont by pretending to be a boy to obtain a job at a livery stable. She graduated to driving stagecoaches, eventually handling as many as six horses. Charley drove the overland stage for three years in the Council Bluffs area of Iowa, and perhaps would have stayed on longer if the Mormons there hadn’t encouraged matrimonial union so vigorously.
Obviously, Charley would have given up her unusual secret if she did marry some surprised young lady. So she came out to California in the early 1850s and ran a stagecoach over Pacheco Pass in the southern Santa Clara Valley for a short while.
Realizing her ability, the Danforth Porter line hired Charley to run the hazardous Santa Cruz-San Jose route – which roughly parallels the winding modern Highway 17. On a Concord stage pulled by six mustangs, Charley could take as many as 20 passengers safely across the mountain range.
The day of the stagecoach in this area ended with the construction of a railroad line crossing the Santa Cruz Mountains. Charley gave up her career as a whip to raise livestock on Bear Creek with a mountain man named Frank Woodward. She did this for a number of years, Frank never suspecting his business partner’s true gender.
Ailing for a short period, she died in December 1879 near Soquel. It was not until the undertaker began preparing the body that the truth came out about Charley Parkhurst’s identity. When the deception that had taken place over all those years was revealed, Frank Woodward is said to have cussed a blue streak.
There is no doubt Charley did make history in American democracy. Her name appears in 1866 on the register of voters in Santa Cruz County, and election records show that, she voted in the presidential election of 1868.
Historians propose that Charlotte Parkhurst can claim to be the first known case in the United States of a woman voting in a public election.
This occurred over half a century before the ratification of the 19th Amendment to the Constitution which gave American women the legal right to vote.
These days it’s not considered unusual to see women in the voting booth or running for political office. But for the mid-19th century world when Charley Parkhurst drove stagecoaches through this area, such a notion would be considered outrageous and even shameful. After all, everyone in that Victorian Age knew the delicate brain of the “weaker sex” couldn’t handle the stress of deciding who should hold political office.
I hope this Tuesday’s election will give us a renewed perspective of democracy in America and our collective power over those we hire to manage our administrative matters. The United States was based on the idea that the people are the bosses and the officer holders are their servants. We tend to lose sight of this fundamental fact. Too many so-called political leaders easily forget who their real employers are – and it’s not the folks sending them the fat campaign checks.
Perhaps this upcoming recall election will serve as a reminder that, just like a stage coach of our frontier past, the people always need to be in the driver’s seat. They’re holding on to the reins of their team of horses – the political representatives. And, while crossing some perilous mountain road, we the people must remind our representative team who is really in charge.
That’s an analogy the independent-minded Charley Parkhurst would tip her hat to.
Martin Cheek is a reporter for the Gilroy Dispatch. He is the author of ‘The Silicon Valley Handbook.’ His column appears every second and fifth Friday of the month.
