Coloma sprang from gold findWilderness area boomed as news of discovery spread
By Steve Gibson They called it "Cullumah" or "Koloma," a Maidu word meaning "beautiful valley." For the several dozen Maidu Indians residing in the river valley where the Gold Rush started, it was simply a place to live off the land, to harvest acorns from abundant oaks and bulbs of brodiaea lilies. It wasn't until 1847, when an itinerant craftsman and millwright named James Marshall began building a sawmill, that "Cullumah" became known as "Sutter's Mill," after Marshall's business partner, Sacramento pioneer John A. Sutter.
He picked a spot on the south fork of the American River because it was the closest suitable site to Sutter's Fort in Sacramento. Nearby, there were abundant stands of pines that could be cut into lumber. On Jan. 24, 1848, Marshall made his now-famous discovery of gold in the mill race adjacent to the partially built sawmill and is reported to have told laborers nearby: "Hey boys, by God, I believe I've found a gold mine!"
It was later that year the site became known as Culloma and showed up on newly printed maps of the foothill region. Miners scoured the Coloma Valley, then quickly moved on. "This place ought to be a city and not, as it is now, just an area in the wilderness with a name," miner Vincente Perez Rosales wrote in his diary in 1849. "There are only two wooden buildings in this place: the mill and a store. The others are all tents or lean-tos. This is no longer considered a mining area." But soon a community emerged, with stores, cabins, churches and cemeteries. In 1851, the town became known as Coloma. Like most of the miners, the man credited with making the discovery failed to make his fortune in the gold fields.
Though Marshall gained considerable fame from his discovery, financially he never did well. When Marshall returned home two decades later for a family visit in Lambertville, N.J., relatives were "taken aback by his poverty, eccentricity and weakness for liquor," one historian wrote. "Marshall himself was awkward, shabby, morose, moody and embittered -- yet also ingenious, honest, kind and faithful. A strange character in all." He died in poverty Aug. 10, 1885, and is buried on a hill in back of Coloma, under a monument erected by the state of California in his honor.
In 1966, a full-scale replica of Sutter's Mill was built at the state park, which comprises nearly 150 acres and straddles Highway 49. Today, the community has about 170 residents -- half retirees, the other half commuters. And today, visitors come to visit a historic site, while archeologists are searching for clues and artifacts -- not gold -- in the foundations of old buildings that have been repeatedly flooded. "We get a lot of grammar school kids, people from all over the world," said Postmaster Jim Read. Park Superintendent Matthew Sugarman accurately describes Coloma today as "a sleepy little town that has close to 200 permanent residents ... and they're very proud of their community." Because Coloma is dominated by the state park, which attracts close to 500,000 visitors annually, the community is unlikely to change much. "This place is about the same as it's always been," said Silvia Hlavacek, who runs an eatery called Argonaut on Highway 49. "I think it will always retain its home town atmosphere."
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