In 1848 a Swiss immigrant named John Sutter had a fort in California where he was hoping to create a Utopian farming community called New Switzerland. Things were going well until a carpenter named James Marshall found some gold flakes in a stream while building a sawmill for Sutter. Sutter and Marshall tried to keep the gold a secret but an enterprising Mormon named Samuel Brannan went and fucked the whole thing up. Brannan bought up every bit of mining equipment anywhere near the fort and opened a general store. Then he took a vial of gold flakes and ran through San Francisco screaming, “Gold, gold, gold in the American River!” Next thing you knew every motherfucker in San Francisco was crawling over Sutter’s land. If this wasn’t bad enough, everyone who worked for Sutter quit their jobs to go dig up his property. Sutter was ruined while Brannen became California’s first millionaire.

Most people think the road west was covered with hostile Indians forcing the pioneers to circle the wagons to defend against attacks. The truth is even more American. Most 49ers that died along the trail did so from dysentery, cholera, or drowning. The Indians they did meet along the way set up shop along the rivers and charged tolls for safe passage and price gouged starving travelers for food.

The Indians in California didn’t do so well. Before the gold rush there were around 150,000 Indians in California. In twenty years there would be less than 30,000. European diseases decimated the Indians. Many had to resort to stealing food after their hunting grounds were overrun with miners. Indian children were stolen and used as slaves. The natives were murdered by miners with no fear of punishment. You didn’t have to worry about the Indians scalping you; it was the general store you had to look out for. Potatoes were going for a dollar a pound. Eggs were a whopping fifty cents apiece.

San Francisco turned into a bustling metropolis overnight. Unfortunately, it was mostly a shithole built out of scrap lumber by drunk miners. Unsurprisingly, San Francisco burned down seven times between 1849 and 1851. Crime was rampant, so concerned citizens created “Committees of Vigilance” to stamp out crime and corruption. And by that I mean, lynch anyone they didn’t like and beat up immigrants, causing more than one race riots. A letter written by Californian rancher Hugo Reid sums up the atmosphere quite beautifully, “Don't go to the mines on any account. They are...loaded to the muzzle with vagabonds from every corner of the globe, scoundrels from nowhere, rascals from Oregon, pickpockets from New York, accomplished gentlemen from Europe, interlopers from Lima and Chile, Mexican thieves, gamblers of no particular spot, and assassins manufactured in Hell for the express purpose of converting highways and byways into theaters of blood.” Sounds like my kind of party.

In 1855 ships from Asia dropped off a cholera epidemic, which wasn’t helped by the filthy conditions in San Francisco. After all the easy gold got picked up, miners turned to more industrial methods, diverting rivers for sluices and blowing shit up. Toxic shit like mercury poisoned the water supplies to the point where parts of California are still contaminated to this very day.

More than 90% of the people who came to California to find gold were men. This resulted in what historians refer to as “One of the biggest sausage parties in history.” This, added to the general lawlessness meant some of the most successful entrepreneurs during the gold rush were whores, at least if they were white, otherwise they were most likely victims of sex trafficking. Still, there weren’t enough prostitutes to go around so many lonely miners had to resort to “female impersonators.” Thus kickstarting San Francisco’s historically LGBTQ friendly atmosphere.