in 2013, the local EVC chapter hadn't yet placed a nearby EVC plaque on the backside of this monument. It was relocated here from across the street where it resided in front of a former restaurant but was removed when the local EVC chapter was told the building was going to be razed (it hasn't been yet). The plaque reads:
Bill Haas, a “Cracker Jack” of Noble Grand Humbugs, is credited with having this historical plaque erected. Bill put up more plaques than any other Club President and took the reins again as the Chapter began to decline in the early nineties.
First set in a concrete monument in front of the Boston Shaft restaurant in Yreka in 1991, the plaque was located near the site of the hanging. In 2012 the Humbug Chapter moved the plaque across the street to the north side of Moonlit Oaks Avenue in Yreka where it shares a brand new concrete monument with its new sister plaque, Moonlit Oaks Dance Pavilion. For the original dedication ceremony, Bill arranged for Fred Burton to talk as well as others. Folks who lived through the era shared their memories of the 1930s with the 40 to 50 people present at the dedication.
This plaque tells the story of the last lynching in California. In 1935, Clyde Johnson, confessed killer of Dunsmuir’s Police Chief, was hung from a pine tree located about two miles west of Yreka on the road to Fort Jones. The following excerpted selections from Alan
McMurry’s book Just a Little Lynching Now and Then best summarize events surrounding the case.
“Robert Barr and Clyde L. Johnson arrived by freight train in Dunsmuir, California on July 27, 1935. It was the deepest and darkest depth of the Great Depression. People had no money and no jobs. Many men just drifted, riding the rails. Barr and Johnson were young men. Robert was 25 and Clyde a few years older. In the past month Johnson had committed robberies in Hollister and Roseville. Low on funds they hatched a plan to rob a bar in nearby Castella. The two men didn’t know the area. What they didn’t understand was that Dunsmuir, at the bottom of a rugged steep canyon along the Sacramento River, only has two escape routes, north or south.
After walking 10 miles from Dunsmuir to Castella they arrived at what they thought was the bar; it turned out to be a pool hall called Padulas. With five or six men inside, Johnson pulled out his 30 caliber Lugar and Barr held a Colt 38. After taking everyone’s wallet and cleaning out the cash register, they found a 1929 Chevrolet outside with a key in the ignition. Forcing the sleeping occupant out of the car, they drove back toward Dunsmuir. Ditching the car in North Dunsmuir their plan was to hide out in the Hobo jungle and catch the next freight train out of town. They began walking along the road toward downtown Dunsmuir.
Meanwhile, Dunsmuir Police Chief Jack Daw and local state highway Patrolman George Malone went to Castella to investigate the robbery and gather information. On their way back to Dunsmuir they spotted two men walking. It was a long shot, but they decided to question the two men. Their car made a U turn and pulled up alongside the two men. As Daw stopped the car Malone sensed danger. He reached for his submachine gun. Daw yelled “get your hand away from that belt!” His order was too late. Malone didn’t have enough room to operate his machine gun. Johnson began shooting. Jack Daw was immediately hit, his foot slipped off the clutch and the car lunged forward. Johnson jumped on the rear bumper and used his gun barrel to breakout the rear window firing continuously through the glass. Bullets rattled around everywhere inside the vehicle. Malone realized the car was picking up speed and about to crash. Johnson’s now empty Lugar clip encouraged him to jump off the bumper. Malone then raced the car down the street to the Highway Patrol Office. How he never got hit is a miracle.
Barr had run off with the money from the holdup. Johnson thought he had killed both Officers. Clyde couldn’t believe his eyes when the car righted itself down the road. He started walking back toward downtown Dunsmuir again. Thinking he had gotten away, Clyde ran into Charley Tracey and Steve Abaroff, posse volunteers. Johnson was captured by these two men and turned over to jailer W.J. Stevenson at the City Jail. Chief Daw died at 2 a.m. that morning. The next four days included interviews, inquiries and inquests by the justice system. Clandestine vigilante meetings had also been held on some of those four evenings. Angered by the senseless killing of Jack Daw, and a perception that other criminals in years past had “gotten off,” a decision to mete out justice was made.
The night after Jack Daw’s funeral, at 1:30 in the morning, 30 to 35 masked men gathered near the jail house door. Over powering Deputy Martin Lange, the vigilantes took Johnson and drove to a place just south of Yreka where there was an open air dance pavilion called Moonlit Oaks. A few hundred yards south of the dance floor was a tall lonely pine tree, a good spot for a necktie party. Once there they took Johnson out of the car, stripped him of his shoes and hung a noose around his neck. Willing hands pulled Johnson up until his feet were four feet off the ground.” Near Moonlit Oaks Dance Pavilion on a dance floor of air under its own open air pine pavilion, Clyde Johnson danced his last dance. Robert Barr who escaped was captured one year later.
Those who did the deed must have held the firm belief that the lynching would serve as a deterrent, and justice was served. We are a nation of laws. When a local populace feels the law has failed them, troubling decisions can too often be made.