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CHARLIE'S SECRET Driving a stagecoach, full of passengers, loaded with baggage, mail and probably gold dust over the Sierra Nevadas was a hair-raising operation. It required skilled drivers who took danger and hardship in stride. Charlie Parkhurst was one of the earliest and best of these drivers. He drove for nearly 20 years in California. Twice Charlie was held up. The first time, without a gun, he was forced to throw down the strongbox. The second time Charlie was prepared. When he heard the command to halt, he whirled, fired a shotgun blast into the chest of the outlaw and escaped. Toward the end of the 1860's, Charlie had had enough of the mud, the dust and the ruts. His hands were crippled with rheumatism and he retired. He opened a stage station and saloon on the road between Watsonville and Santa Cruz. Later, he did some cattle ranching and, after he could no longer sit in a saddle, raised chickens near Aptos. Finally, old age and failing health drove him to a small cabin near Watsonville where he died on December 29, 1879. Very little is known about Parkhurst before or after he came West. He was born somewhere in New Hampshire and as a youngster ran away to Providence, R. I., either from his uncle's farm or an orphanage. He got a job as a stable boy. It was natural to became a driver and Charlie drove steadily before coming to California in 1850. He was small (only about 5'6"), slim and wiry, with alert gray eyes. He rarely smiled but was well liked. Apparently shy, Parkhurst never volunteered information about himself. Not an uncommon trait in those days. When he did speak it was in an oddly sharp, high-pitched voice. When his body was prepared for burial, it was discovered that Charlie was a woman! And, a doctor maintained, at some point in her life, a mother. When Charlie cast a ballot in an election on November 3, 1868, he became the first woman to vote -- 52 years before that right was guaranteed to women by the 19th Amendment. (Story is used courtesy of Wells Fargo.com) |