By Earnest Jackson and Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society
ILLUSTRATION BY J. C. (PATSY) CARROLL
Adolph Silver playing art director
Recently we carried Earnest Jackson’s reminiscences about Adolph Silver, who was known as the Poobah of the pool halls, or horse race betting parlors, that proliferated here in the 1800s. Here are some additional anecdotes about one of Jackson’s more memorable – if not likable – town characters:
It is said that every day while the races were on, Adolph would walk up to the wicket and receive his ticket. He would thereupon play any old horse, call on the cashier and find that each day his horse had won $25. A bit fantastic, eh! I am told this took place six days out of every week. It was one of the perquisites of the office of Boss "Poobah.”
As Silver was growing wealthier, he decided to build a fine home. The contract price for the house alone was over $12,000 and Tom O'Connor got the contract. I am told that including decorations, period furniture, etc., etc., this home cost Adolph about $40,000. This sum also included a large bank vault in which to keep his money.
Thinks He Knows Art
Silver was a conceited ass. He thought he knew a lot about art. Actually he knew nothing. He engaged a well known French artist to paint murals in the reception room of his house, and as the story goes, Adolph would ensconce himself in a magnificently upholstered chair at one end of the room, almost as splendid as a throne, while the artist worked at the other end. At one hand Adolph had a whiskey decanter, and at the other several bottles of beer. Choice cigars in abundance were convenient. Thus reinforced Adolph would tell the artist how to do his work ‘‘a little more fawncy.” He would call out: "I do not like those colors they are not bright enough.” A perpetual barrage of directions in Austrian accent to the French artist.
"Try and Get It”
The Frenchman had a dreadful time. Almost they came to blows on many occasions. When finally the work was done, Adolph said, “I will not pay, it is not what I want, I am an attorney: try and get it.” I don’t know whether the artist ever did get it, but I suspect not. Actually, Adolph was not an attorney at all, though he practiced in the Justice Court. Once when he appeared in Judge Lennon’s Court, the Judge asked for his credentials, and when they were not forthcoming, had the Sheriff put him out of the court room. As Adolph was nearing the door, the Judge called out at him, “Don’t you ever try to practice law again in my court, you crook!”
Defies Judge Lennon
Adolph wheeled around and shook his fist at the Judge fairly screaming, “Just you call me that name once more I defy you to call me that name once more!”
Tom O'Connor had a lot of trouble to get his money for Adolph’s house. On one occasion there was a payment due Mr. O’Connor of $l2,OO. Just for crookedness sake Adolph went over to San Francisco and got the entire amount in $1 bills, and then commenced counting them off as he passed them out, all the while trying to count more than he actually passed out.
Locks in Vault
Finally Mr. O’Connor, exasperated beyond endurance, shoved him in the vault and slammed the door. Tom did not know the combination and scared nearly to death for fear Adolph would suffocate finally had to get Adolph's sister to let him out. Adolph was furious and rushed out saying, “I’m going to get my gun.” Mr. O'Connor told me he didn't know what to do. He said he thought if he ran Adolph would shoot him in the back, so he stood his ground. When Adolph returned he was dragging his sister who was hanging on to his gun. About this time some of Mr. O’Connor's workmen entered, including his brother - in-law, who saved the day. He said: "No sense in all this fight Adolph, let's all have a drink.” “I think that’s right,” said Adolph. They all had a drink and the party ended quite happily.
Returns to Obscurity
Adolph’s career was nearly run. It came from nothing. It blazed across Sausalito’s sky for a few years and then it set in darkness. He lost every cent he had and returned to obscurity up in the hills. Some one told me that he appeared in San Rafael in about 1912, and that then he was absolutely down and out.
Misdirected Talent
He was a remarkable man with a superabundance of misdirected talent. As Service puts it, “If he had just gone straight, he might have gone far.” But he couldn’t go straight, he was too crooked. And now I have said all that I am going to for the time being, except to remind you that this story is all a part of my recollections. In spots it is doubtless inaccurate but as for that all history is built largely on recollections.