Suits me to a "T"

Trying to reconcile conflicting reports about the start of the city of Lodi, California, has come down to two initials: that of Allen C. Ayers or Allen T. Ayers. Of course, since the names are so similar, it could have been a typo in George Tinkham's 1923 History of San Joaquin County that started the whole pursuit. Considering that the Tinkham volume amounts to 1,640 pages, one could cut the guy some slack on one silly initial. But just in case, I felt obligated to check out the references to the Allen C. Ayers who supposedly was involved in some key real estate transactions that eventually benefited the establishment of downtown Lodi.

We already learned yesterday that the similarly-named Allen T. Ayers had a middle initial representing the name Trimble. Attempting to find further information on his contemporary, the man supposedly named Allen C. Ayers, led nowhere. There are no census records for the county in either 1860 or 1870 showing the existence of a man by that name anywhere near the Elkhorn Township which eventually formed the city of Lodi. More to the point, every Allen Ayers listed in California's Great Register for San Joaquin County spelled out clearly the full name of Allen Trimble Ayers. No Allen C. to be found.

Considering that the four names mentioned in the land issue that persuaded a railroad company to build its line through the downtown area included not only Allen Ayers but that of another man—John U. Magley—who happened to live in A. T. Ayers' own household through two decades of census enumerations, it seems far fetched to assume that the Ayers name represented in the Tinkham volume was anyone other than Allen Trimble Ayers.

But what about any mention of the fourth man to be included in that railroad deal? Could anything be said for Ezekiel Lawrence, the name we've yet to examine, to connect him with John Hutchins, whose own biography prompted me to call this whole history into question?

Of course there can. Though once again, there is no biographical entry bearing the name of Ezekiel Lawrence, there were a few mentioned of the name tucked away in those thousand pages of history that can assist us.

The earliest mention of Ezekiel Lawrence was when, in 1858, he provided some of his land, just south of the Mokelumne River, for a schoolhouse. The 1860 census confirms his location in Elkhorn Township, along with his wife Mary and two year old son William. By 1870, the census confirms the Lawrence family's continued residence there, with the addition of son George and daughter Nettie.

Similar to the story of fellow Lodian John Hutchins, Ezekiel Lawrence was from Canada—the province of Ontario, if we can believe his son George's report in his own passport application, many years later. Like the story of Allen Trimble Ayers, Ezekiel Lawrence must have come through El Dorado County, as well—the well-traveled route to Gold Country leading to "Hangtown," now known as Placerville, where Ezekiel and his wife Mary were married in 1857.

Despite his 1858 provision of land for the Lodi schoolhouse, Ezekiel Lawrence did not show up in the Great Register until 1867. The reason? The minute he officially became a United States citizen, the naturalized Ezekiel Lawrence immediately registered to vote on May 18, 1867 in Stockton, county seat of San Joaquin County.

The only other mention I could find of Ezekiel Lawrence was that of the roster of officers for a fraternal organization's lodge in Lodi. Though finding only a listing of his name as the treasurer for the Lodi lodge of the Odd Fellows may be disappointingly sparse, considering all that surely could have been said about the man, reading the rest of the list can provide some insight.

Now that we already know the name of the foursome whose influence was instrumental in setting the economic growth of their future city—Ayers, Magley, Wardrobe, and Lawrence—this list provides some perspective on relationships. Along with treasurer Lawrence, the I.O.O.F. lodge had, for their financial secretary, Allen T. Ayers. And listed among the lodge's charter members, according to the Tinkham history, was John Hutchins.

This, finally, provides the only context linking the four names together in their bid to persuade the railroad's consideration of a route through Lodi. In the meantime, we've explored the few details we could glean about four early leaders in the expansion of the city now known as Lodi.

Still, we can't simply be satisfied with this exploration into the friends and neighbors whose land tied them together at the start of the downtown Lodi area. We need to stay the course on our original objective. Researching these four men mentioned in the Tinkham history of Lodi is solely for the purpose of examining another claim: that there was a fifth man who, with "four associates," presented that offer of land to the Central Pacific. That other man was John Hutchins.

Above: Excerpt from the Map of the County of San Joaquin, dated 1895, as currently found at the United States Library of Congress, shows the property of Ezekiel "Lawrance" just south of the meandering path of the Mokelumne River; courtesy Library of Congress Geography and Map Division; in the public domain.

Initial Inquiries

Names containing only initials can be vexing for the ardent genealogical researcher. In particular, reading the history of the founding of Lodi, California, we find two mentions of the surname Ayers. One is A. C. Ayers, the other is A. T. Ayers. Close, but not necessarily the same individual.

In our continuing quest to rectify two tales of how the fledgling city of Lodi got its boost with the Central Pacific Railroad agreeing to build its line directly through the downtown area, we've been examining the biographical information on each of four men credited with the land donations influencing that change of plans. Behind that examination is the need to rectify the report in George Tinkham's History of San Joaquin County with that of his biography of another leading man in Lodi: John Hutchins.

So far, not only have we not uncovered any connection between John Hutchins and the first of our subjects—Reuben Langdon Wardrobe—but there was not much mentioned directly about R. L. Wardrobe in the entirety of the book's 1,640 pages.

As we'll see here, much the same can be said about the subject of today's post. There was no biographical sketch included by Tinkham for A. T. Ayers.

Worse, not only was there no specific entry for this man credited by Tinkham as making a donation of property to help clinch the deal which led to establishing downtown Lodi, but in some of the other entries about the surname Ayers, the author mentioned the name Allen Ayers. More troubling, sometimes that middle initial was a "C" instead of a "T."

If this indicates two different people rather than a simple typo in the text, which one was the right man? You know what that means: researching both names to see which one provides more reasonable indicators of representing the right person.

Fortunately, I decided to start with the name listed in the paragraph on the property donation, and looked for A. T. Ayers. First up, I discovered that A. T., like A. C., had a first name of Allen. That wasn't a promising start to this search.

If this is a troubling research problem for us, as far removed as we are from the event itself in the 1860s, consider how troubling it must have been to the man who might have had to constantly clarify which Allen Ayers he was. It wasn't long until I found A. T. Ayers' voter registration from 1866. The date of his registration was August 6 of 1866, showing him to be a thirty six year old farmer from Ohio, then living in the Elkhorn Township of San Joaquin County. Rather than simply relying on initials as at other times, his name was spelled out fully as "Allen Trimble Ayres."

Since we had already reviewed the story of one of the original Lodi settlers selling his land to "Allen Ayers," it was good to have this clarification, for in another section in the Tinkham volume, the name had been given as Allen C. Ayers. At this point, with a full name to research, I could more closely track the decade-by-decade movement of this Allen Trimble Ayers.

And that, I did. Starting with the 1880 census and working my way backwards in time, I found an "Allan T. Ayres" in Elkhorn Township, along with his wife Julia and teenaged daughters Estelle and Coralin. In the same household was an interesting addition: the presence of John U. Magley, immigrant from Switzerland, who just happened to be one of the four men mentioned as having donated land to bring the rail line through Lodi. Magley's residence in the Ayers home made me wonder whether he and Ayers were related by marriage.

Checking the 1870 census, I found Allen Trimble Ayers in much the same location: Elkhorn Township in San Joaquin County. Still in the household with his wife Julia and two daughters—both of whom were born in California, showing us that A. T. Ayers (well, at least his wife) was in the state as early as 1863—he also had a spot in his home for that same John U. Magley. In fact, the home site had enough room for horses, mules, cows, and a few pigs, as A. T. Ayers kept his 150 acres in winter wheat and barley.

Even before that point, Allen Ayers and his wife were in California in time for the 1860 census, although not living in Lodi. Julia and Allen Ayers were then living in El Dorado County, which, though not part of our story today, provides a hint about who his parents might have been, despite a name as common as Allen Ayers. Though A. T. Ayers originated in Ohio, he may not have traveled to California alone. There was a Stephen Ayers from Vermont listed not only in El Dorado County, but also on the Great Register on the same page in Lodi as Allen Trimble Ayers in 1866. Besides this, in census records including location of the father's birth, Allen always gave his father's birthplace as Vermont, same as this Stephen Ayers.

While many links can be found online purporting to have found Allen Trimble Ayers' place of burial outside California, a locally published book by a former member of our own genealogical society provides a clue that A. T. Ayers' wife and also his (likely) father were buried in a location south of Lodi which is now a defunct cemetery.

Known as the Live Oak Cemetery, its demise provides the kind of story that genealogical researchers seldom appreciate encountering. Apparently, some of the bodies of those buried at the Live Oak Cemetery were moved to a new burial place east of downtown Lodi, decades afterwards—but not, possibly, all of those originally buried at Live Oak. The newer burial place, known as Lodi Memorial Park, contains a memorial plaque for those re-interred from the Live Oak Cemetery. Whether Stephen Ayers' remains are at the newer resting place or the original burial grounds is hard to tell, though someone created a Find A Grave memorial for him indicating the answer is the Lodi Memorial Park.

As for the son, Allen Trimble Ayers, who knows what became of him. There is a memorial on Find A Grave speculating he somehow wound up in Nebraska and was buried there, but I do not feel confident of that conclusion—at least, not yet. A. T. Ayers' one daughter married a man from Stockton—Walter Eugene Ladd—whose family name was significant in his hometown then, as it is now. What became of the second Ayers daughter or her father, I can't say, but it is likely that they, like some of the other property owners from the early days of Lodi, moved out of the area long before George Tinkham ever considered omitting their mention from his ponderous history.

Keeping an Eye on the Neighbors

A story about a neighbor may help open up the chapter for us in the Lodi settlement's beginning years, as we puzzle over not only who got here first, but who could rightfully claim an instrumental role in establishing the future city's financial well-being.

We may have several variations of the tale of just how the Central Pacific railroad route actually came to be directed through the nascent downtown area of Lodi, California. We have one report which seems to indicate that John Hutchins was the prime influencer who lobbied to bring the railroad route through downtown Lodi, but another rendition mentions the names of Ezekiel Lawrence, Reuben Wardrobe, A. C. Ayers, and John Magley.

While we will consider each of these men's stories in the next few days, a bit of a backstory—about a neighbor—may help to set the stage today. In the telling of this brief vignette, you will see some familiar surnames pop up.

The neighbor was named John Fry Layman. Born in Ohio in 1834, he married in 1861 in Davis County, Iowa, and after the 1862 birth of his firstborn, Joseph, moved his family to California. The story was that John Layman had intended to head to Washington, but after stopping in the central valley of California for a few days' rest, changed his mind and, making a trade of one of his teams of horses for some land—160 acres, to be exact—settled in the area that eventually became Lodi.

Though the land was rugged and required much work to clear—let alone plant, or set up work buildings or a home—John Layman eventually added more land to that original acreage. He bought enough additional land from a man named R. L. Wardrobe to bring his total holdings to 240 acres, but eventually thought better of the prospect of these holdings. He sold the entire acreage and moved south to another city in the valley.

Depending on which version of the story you believe, Layman either sold his land to Allen Ayers, or to both Allen Ayers and R. L. Wardrobe. The transaction was completed in 1867. 

Meanwhile, north of Lodi, the engineers of the Central Pacific Railroad Company were scoping out the best route for a line from Sacramento, the state capital, to Stockton, a city directly to the south of Lodi, which served as the county seat. Of three possible routes surveyed, the proposed best choice ran to the west of Lodi, near another town called Woodbridge.

Rumor had it that the owner of the land over which the proposed route was to pass in Woodbridge refused to grant right-of-way, and was considering demanding excessive payment for "damages."

Perhaps it was not simply brilliance which induced five Lodi businessmen—with or without our John Hutchins—to seize the moment and make a proposal the railroad company couldn't refuse. Among those businessmen were the two landholders named in local history as having just acquired that centrally-located land of John Fry Layman, conveniently near the site of Lodi's downtown development. We'll see what we can discover about these men, tomorrow.