John Baptist Lembert was born in New York around 1840, one of several children in a family of German immigrants. Some family members represented their last name as "Lambert". Although John preferred the form "Lembert" in his adult life, even his name was often rendered "Lambert" in books and newspapers. Nothing is known about his formal education in New York. He arrived in California when he was about 28 years old, and worked as a farmer in the San Francisco Bay area. Three years later, he continued farming near Marysville, Yuba County, and then became miner at Buttes, Sierra County. His eldest brother Jacob probably came to California at the same time as John, in 1868, and lived the rest of his life in Mariposa, near Yosemite. This may have been the reason why John also eventually adopted the Yosemite area as his permanent home. In his spare time, John enjoyed creating objects that could best be classified as 'folk arts and crafts'. In 1872, while still a farmer in Marysville, John earned praise for making a smoking pipe out of "cement" and—according to a newspaper note—displaying "considerable artistical skill" {1}.
John moved to the Yosemite region around 1874 or 1875. The attribute "artist" was already attached to his name. In 1877, he painted the flag and carved the flagpole that Anderson and Hutchings would place atop Starr King Mountain. The accompanying text will tell you more about this and other early ascents of Starr King. In 1883, while hiking in the Sierra mountains above Yosemite, Chas Robinson, a San Francisco painter, was surprised to find the interior of Lembert's cabin "ornamented by some amateurish attempts of art, [but] not at all discreditable" {2}.
Lembert's cabin, built 1878 or earlier, abandoned 1896.
Photo by Helen Lukens Jones taken around 1904.
Shortly after arriving in Yosemite, Lembert discovered the incomparable charm of the lush pasture grounds in the upper country, known as Tuolumne Meadows. A distinctive feature of the Meadows was the bubbling mineral springs, and the name Soda Springs was sometimes used as an alternative name for Tuolumne Meadows. This area was still open Government land and not part of the original Yosemite Grant. Lembert liked to stay in the high mountains for several months every summer, away from the busy and crowded Yosemite Valley. This earned him another frequently used attribute. People started calling him "the hermit". In 1881, a newspaper article titled "The Hermit of the Sierra" described him as "fine looking, well educated and a good talker, yet quite a curiosity. For some unknown reasons he has cut loose from civilization and lives alone in the mountains and seeing a human being only now and then" {3}.
Hutchings described Lembert in 1886 as a "hermit-artist" who makes sketches while his goats graze upon the succulent pastures at the Soda Springs {4}. Hubert Dyer, a student at Berkeley stopped at Soda Springs in July 1889 on his way to Mt. Lyell. To him, John Lembert, while handsome and quite intellectual, was also a bit of a "peculiar personage... whose mind is filled with the beauties of the scenery and the objects about him. With pathetic simplicity he tells of the dream-pictures of his lonely life..." {5}.
It was there, in the center of Tuolumne Meadows, that in 1885 Lembert staked off a quarter section (160 acres) of grassland north of the Tuolumne River. The springs of carbonated water also became part of his claim. Contrary to what is found in current literature and in National Park documentation, Lembert built his small residential summer cabin near the springs long before he became the homesteader. For example, the botanist John Lemmon spent a night in Lembert's cabin in August 1878 {6}. Today, there is no trace left of Lembert's residential cabin. It was located some 400 feet west of the springs, on a wooded knoll, about where Parsons Memorial Lodge now stands. Sometime between 1904 and 1915 the cabin (or what remained of it) was completely dismantled and removed. Thanks to photographer and writer Helen Lukens Jones, we know at least to some extent what Lembert's dwelling looked like. Her picture of the by then abandoned but still standing cabin was taken in 1904 or earlier {7}. Another, slightly blurred photo, taken around 1891, probably by George Fiske, also appears to show the same cabin {8}. Keep in mind that thoe term "Lembert's cabin" is sometimes also used to describe an enclosure that Lembert built of logs around the largest of the soda springs. That structure, nine feet by eleven, not really a place where anyone could live, is now only eight-logs high and roofless, but it still stands {9}.
For some visitors to the Meadows, Lembert's solitary living in this mountain paradise painted a romantic halo around the edges of his aloneness. Others may have found him a bit odd. Many noticed that he always made sure to show only what he wanted to show. For example, no one knew anything about his pre-Yosemite life, not even the basic facts, for he was unwilling to offer and share much information about that. But in general, he was considered a simple, modest man, sociable (although perhaps a little reticent), intelligent, hospitable and kind. It was then a shock for everyone when, in the early spring of 1896, he was found murdered in his winter-season humble adobe near the Merced River, a few miles below Yosemite Valley. Why would anyone want to harm, let alone kill this gentle hermit? However, there was a secret part of his life that only a few of his most trusted confidants knew about. The direct chain of events that would culminate in Lembert's death began in the late fall of 1889, but if we want to understand the whole story, we have to start even earlier.
J. B. Lembert, unknown date, probably
around 1880.
In 1885 or earlier, as soon as Lembert fenced off his rich meadow pasture, he acquired a herd of about 150 Angora goats. He probably spent most or all of his savings on that purchase. According to some contemporary estimates, owners of medium size Angora flocks could make a profit of one to two dollars per animal per year. But in the end, everything depended on the market prices of Angora fleece, called mohair. The price of mohair appears to have fluctuated greatly in the mid-1880s. Lembert had to worry about another unpredictable factor, namely the weather: Angoras are not as winter-hardy as other goat breeds, so a suitable winter shelter for the herd in the low foothills was absolutely essential. Therefore, it was crucial to leave the Meadows well before the onset of cold winter storms. Prof. Raymond of the State University at Berkeley once asked Lembert about late fall conditions at Tuolumne Meadows. He replied that he was compelled to leave the meadows and take his flock to their winter quarters as early as October, due to the threat of very cold and sometimes even snowy weather later in the autumn season {10}.
Lembert was therefore fully aware of the possible consequences of staying too long on the summer pastures in the high country. However, even his caution did not help him in the fall of 1889, when a series of extremely cold winter-like storms hit the Sierra mountains early and with a vengeance. There were no official U.S. Signal Service meteorological stations anywhere in the High Sierra or Yosemite Valley at the time, but we can try to reconstruct the events based on weather observations in the adjacent Sierra foothills. At Mariposa, some 50 miles southwest of Tuolumne Meadows, the local clerk, Maurice Newman, carefully recorded the daily conditions and reported the weather patterns in a local newspaper. According to Newman, the first storm of the fall season commenced at Mariposa on the morning of October 7, 1889, and it rained quite heavily most of the day. By that evening, he had measured more than two inches of rain. Generally, this would correspond to about two feet of snow in the high mountains. Lembert may have been in the final stages of preparing to leave Tuolumne Meadows with his goats when that storm hit. A foot or two of snow on the ground would certainly force him to postpone the trip, with the hope that a cold front would pass quickly and the snow would melt. However, in the following days, a newspaper article from Wawona reported that snow remained on the ground and that all scheduled work in the Big Trees area was halted until spring. Similar reports of heavy snowdrifts in the Sierra were published in other California newspapers. Ten days later, on October 17, an even stronger storm made Lembert's situation quite desperate. Almost five inches of rain fell in Mariposa over the next 7 days. The chances of Lembert's flock ever reaching the lower regions now became very slim. In the days that followed, and as the bad weather continued, it must have become clear to Lembert that, barring a miracle, the goats were trapped and doomed. In mid-November, yet another powerful storm dumped 6 inches of rain in Mariposa and many feet of snow in the mountains above Yosemite. It was time for Lembert to leave his flock and try to save himself.
Based on various reports from across California, we can conclude that nothing like this has been observed for many years (or ever), and that the autumn of 1889, with its abundant mountain snow at the start of the season, was a unique meteorological event. The usual routes from Tuolumne Meadows to the foothills became impassable earlier than ever before. By mid-December of that year, a total of nearly 23 inches of rain had fallen in Mariposa since the onset of the storms {11}. This would correspond to a huge quantity of snow at higher elevations. Indeed, John McKenna reported a previously unheard of amount of snow, a total of 55 feet, accumulated during that winter of 1889/90 at Lake Tahoe {12}.
The heavy losses of several shepherds due to the early arrival of winter were reported in the newspapers, but I found nothing directly connected with Lembert's misfortune. However, a year or two later, when an annual report of the Bureau of Animal Industry was published, it contained the following note on the subject of the mohair industry in the Western states: "Mr. J. B. Lembert, Yosemite Valley, Mariposa County, Cal., was, until recently, the owner of 156 head of Angoras, said to be thoroughbred. His flock, while away from shelter, was overtaken by a snowstorm that continued for twenty-six days. Large number of his animals [actually all!] had to be abandoned to starvation after many weeks of continuous privation" {13}.
Losing his entire investment and thus his livelihood, Lembert had to find other sources of income. The year 1890 must have been extremely difficult for him. In the past, he occasionally guided tourists who arrived at his Soda Springs property to the nearby peaks of Mt. Dana, Mt. Lyell and Mt. Conness. Now, for the first time, he actively offered his services to tourist groups even down in the Valley. He also reportedly bottled and tried to sell water from his soda springs to Yosemite visitors. In the summer of 1890, the U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey team of Prof. George Davidson was doing triangulation work in a temporary observatory at the very top of Mount Conness. Davidson reimbursed Lembert for the use of his property as a base camp and pasture. In a report on the work completed in the fiscal year 1890/91, the following statement is found {14}: "At the lower [Soda Springs] camp Mr. Davidson acknowledged his indebtedness for much local information and many favors to Mr. John Lambert who has a claim there and acted as guide and more." The amount of 'indebtedness' in dollar units was not stated.
A passage on Lambert from Finch-Kelly's article on
California 'hermits', written in February 1892 and reprinted
in more than 100 newspapers across the U.S.
The year 1890 ended with another terrible setback for Lembert. On October 1, 1890, by an act of the U.S. Congress, all Government land in the highlands around Yosemite Valley was assigned to the newly created Yosemite National Park. Since Lembert had still not received a patent for his homestead, and was too poor to hire a team of lawyers to defend his claim, there was a real possibility that he would now lose control of his Soda Springs property. That winter, as he transitioned into his early fifties, John Lembert probably reached the lowest point of his life.
Then, in 1891, a chance encounter with a scientist from the East Coast changed his fate again. In mid-May of that year, a somewhat eccentric entomologist, Harrison Dyar, came to Yosemite for what turned out to be a four-month visit {15}, {16}. At first, he stayed in a hotel in the Valley and collected insects from surrounding areas, including from nearby peaks. But in September 1891, Dyar was ready to camp near the headwaters of the Tuolumne River and add a few insects from the high meadows to his collection. Lembert, always eager to learn something new about the flora and fauna of Yosemite {17}, now seized the opportunity to offer his services to Dyar on his camping trip. Dyar's field book indeed shows that they collected some specimens near Soda Springs and near the glaciers of Mt. Lyell between September 17 and 21, 1891 {18}.
Before leaving for Southern California, Dyar asked Lembert to continue collecting rare insects for him. In just a few days, he successfully introduced Lembert to the basics of entomology, including how to collect and observe insects, how to handle samples, and where and how to send them. Lembert will become Dyar's protégé for rearing butterflies and moths (order Lepidoptera). Over the next few years, Lembert sent several hundred specimens to Dyar, but never charged his mentor a penny for those deliveries {19}.
As a sign of gratitude, in 1894 Dyar named a newly identified species of ghost moth after Lembert. He probably also gave Lembert's address to other entomologists and encouraged them to contact Lembert and help him earn something for his skilled work. The word spread and soon people who were engaged in other branches of science started contacting him. For example, botanists from both the U.S. and Canada sought Lembert's help in collecting grasses and other plants from high mountains. Then he attracted the attention of anthropologists from the California State University at Berkeley. At that time, it was still easy to find many artifacts by Native Peoples along the Mono Trail near Tuolumne Meadows, and Lembert was happy to send to Berkeley dozens of the best arrowheads and perhaps some other items found along the Trail. Other anthropologists may have followed suit.
From the time he first met Dyar, John Lembert had steadily gained more and more expertise in his study of insects. He published several of his field notes and commentaries in leading entomological journals from 1892 to 1895. Although publications in scientific journals certainly added to his reputation in the scientific world, such publications did not generate any income. Worse, it became increasingly difficult to bring in new clients interested in buying his plants and insects. By the end of 1893, his income had again become extremely meager. It was probably at that time that he made a terrible decision, which he must have known was unethical, impermissible and completely wrong. It is not clear whether this was his own idea or maybe some of the correspondents encouraged him, but the temptation turned out to be too great. Near his winter cabin, in the Merced River gorge, a few miles below Yosemite Valley, was a burial ground of the local Yosemite Indians, and Lembert was now ready to reach for the relics from that sacred place.
One of his early shipments of objects thus obtained was addressed to the Smithsonian. In their catalog of acquisitions for the fiscal year ending June 1894, we find an item received on May 9, 1894, listed under
Acquisition catalogs of other museums and anthropological collections have so far yielded no other entries directly linking Lembert to items looted from Indian burial sites, although there are indications that he disturbed graves more than once. Perhaps it was simply more profitable for him to sell these stolen items directly to Yosemite tourists rather than to institutions.
According to William Colby's 1949 recollection {20}, "Lembert evidently knew the Yosemite Indians quite well, but he apparently fell in their disfavor because he and others[!] had dug up some of their graves in order to get the wampum and other buried relics... Some said it was for motives of robbery that Lembert was killed, and others were sure it was because of the grudge the Indians held against him because he had participated in disturbing the burial sites of their ancestors." Elizabeth O'Neill also uses the plural 'graves' in her 1983 book on the history of the Tuolumne Meadows region. She wrote {21}, "Lembert did not have the typical Yankee aversion to Indians and lived quite happily among them, gradually learning their customs. But there was a falling out when he went digging up their graves looking for shell money and relics." I cannot tell if her source was the Colby's report (above), or if she used a different independent reference.
But the most detailed and damaging account was written shortly after Lembert's death by 22-year-old Theodore Solomons, who apparently knew Lembert well and gained his trust during their frequent meetings and conversations at Tuolumne Meadows {22}. Below is the relevant part of Solomons' text. I made only minor changes related to the order and formatting of the paragraphs. Please note that Lembert did not have the opportunity to react to Solomon's chronicle and give us his version of events. It would be best if readers would consider this article to be some kind of literary construction, something between a true story and fiction, and then draw their own conclusions.
