Editor’s note: This story is part of a series devoted to the history of Plumas County. Each month, we cover a different seasonal theme from Plumas County’s past.
In recent years, the location of a future courthouse expansion has been the subject of intense local debate. Now, it looks as if the Judicial Council has settled on a site for a new 54,000-square-foot adjunct facility. As Plumas’ iconic courthouse passes its 103rd birthday, and the county prepares for its newest courthouse building, we look back at the history of the county’s judicial facilities.
Holding court at American Ranch
Before the formation of Plumas County in 1854, justices of the peace roamed the region, hearing cases at the mining camps and ranches that served as town centers. There were also vigilance committees, which administered mob justice in the camps.
When Plumas was split off from Butte County, a heated contest ensued over which of the budding communities would become the county seat. Candidates included Nelson Point, then a thriving community of about 300; Elizabethtown, a settlement at the west end of American Valley, near modern-day Purdy Lane; and American Ranch, at the center of what would become Quincy.
American Ranch, owned by Hugh J. Bradley, was selected as the most central location. The boarding house there was already used for public assemblies, balls and political meetings. Court was held in a small log building adjacent to the hotel. The space was furnished, according to a contemporary account, with a single chair, a stool and a spectator’s bench, with whiskey kegs providing the rest of the seating.
Plumas’ first courthouse
In 1857, the citizens of the new county organized a subscription to raise funds for a courthouse. That autumn, the Plumas Argus published a notice inviting building proposals. Land for the construction was donated by Bradley, Joseph Gree and George W. Sharpe. Bradley was given the privilege of naming the new county seat. He chose Quincy in honor of his hometown of Quincy, Illinois. In 1859, Plumas opened the doors to its first real courthouse, a New England-style building at the center of a grassy town square with a jail in the rear.
For 60 years, this rudimentary courthouse formed the center of local justice and politics. But by the early 20th century, the growing county needed more space. The district attorney and law library rented offices elsewhere, and the Plumas Independent reported that the State Board of Charities and Corrections had threatened to condemn the jail on multiple occasions.
The ‘supervisors’ folly’ — our current courthouse
Plumas County’s iconic classical style white-and-taupe courthouse is among the most beloved buildings in Quincy. But at the time of its construction, the prospect of replacing the old wood-and-brick structure was unpopular.
“The old court house at Quincy will be razed, and one of the most famous structures in the history of Plumas County will be a thing of the past,” mourned the Plumas Independent nostalgically in 1919. “Many celebrated cases have been held there in the old building and many of the best known attorneys have battled there.”
“The old court house at Quincy will be razed, and one of the most famous structures in the history of Plumas County will be a thing of the past.”
Plumas Independent
Residents also objected to the design of the new building. Nicknamed the “supervisors’ folly” or the “marble palace,” the current courthouse was deemed too expensive, too ostentatious and too large for the county. In 1957, John Hardgrave, one of the last living 1919 supervisors, recalled that they had hoped to erect the building for $150,000. It actually cost $325,000 — more than twice the projected amount. They funded the effort with a special direct, three-year tax of $1 on each $100 of assessed valuation. The controversy was so intense that there was talk of recalling the board of supervisors. In the end, though, each member is named on a plaque just outside the main doors. The supervisors were proven right about the size, too: by the mid-’50s county officers were again forced to rent space elsewhere.
The supervisors selected architect George Sellon after touring the Lassen County Courthouse in Susanville. He was supported by contractor Edward Book. Their 46-room building is made from reinforced concrete and stucco, with marble floors and staircases of blue-gray Tuolumne County marble, accented with pink marble from Tennessee. Interior walls were made with terracotta tile, covered by plaster. The lobby originally boasted a 2,000-pound bronze-and-plate-glass chandelier “modeled after an old-fashioned lantern” and suspended by heavy chains. It was retired in the 1970s due to safety concerns.
In spite of the initial concerns, as opening day approached more favorable reports of the new courthouse began to circulate. An article appeared in the Plumas National Bulletin with an unironic subtitle: “Artistic temperament finds much pleasure in viewing handsome finish of county building.” The paper described the new building as surpassing “in beauty of architecture, durability and compactness the courthouse of any county in California with a population approximating that of Plumas county.”
The formal dedication took place Sept. 9, 1921. California Gov. William D. Stephens gave an address, followed by a catered barbecue for 1,500 attendees, a baseball game between businessmen and county officials, and dancing into the evening.
A tour of the courthouse then and now
When it opened, the ground floor housed the county public library, sheriff’s office and a community meeting room. It has since been remodeled to include two court rooms and several offices. The middle two floors remain largely as they always have been. The offices of the county clerk, treasurer, auditor, recorder and related positions occupied the second floor of the building (although today, there is also an information technology office). The third floor was home to the supervisors’ meeting room, district attorney’s office, judge’s chambers and — the jewel of the building — the superior court, with its 12-foot panels of quarter-sawn oak, oak judge’s bench and jury box with swivel chairs, cathedral windows, cork floors and blue velvet drapes with gold cord and fringe.
In the spring and fall, said Bruce Robbins, a longtime county maintenance worker and member of the E Clampus Vitus fraternal organization, wasps make their way in through those cathedral windows and establish themselves on the elegant vaulted coffered ceiling. Maintenance workers attach a 20-foot pipe to a vacuum and clean out their nests each morning.
The fourth floor was a jail capable of accommodating eight prisoners, with additional space for women and boys, plus a padded cell. An elevator linked the jail to the superior court and the sheriff’s office below. While there were metal screens over the windows, they did open. Prisoners would drop string from the fourth floor to the ground below, so that passersby could tie on cigarettes or beers, said Robbins. When a new jail opened in 1976, the fourth floor was converted to a law library and offices. A few traces of its former purpose still remain.
The building featured the latest in 1920s heating and ventilation technology, with steam pipes placed directly under the eaves and larger windows to prevent the accumulation of ice and snow. There was an interior push-button telephone system for communicating between offices, firefighting equipment, and drinking water fountains on each of the first three floors — all innovative at the time.
Much of that internal infrastructure is still in use, including portions of the phone system. The original ventilation system remains almost unchanged. The fan motors had to be replaced about three years ago, said Robbins, but the fans themselves still work. Robbins recalled that the contractors hired to help relocate the building department were particularly impressed by the electrical system: They’d only seen pictures of the technology in books. While not original, it is old enough that the breakers are no longer available and have to be specially built.
One of the biggest challenges of caring for the courthouse is that there’s no way to know how the internal structure of the building is organized, said Robbins. Leaks are often challenging to locate, with no access points. On one memorable occasion a maintenance worker had to shimmy down a narrow shaft for two floors in order to repair a pipe. Room 207 is kept empty because the piping for the heaters runs directly through that wall from the basement boiler room, making it too hot to use.
There are similar issues with many older county properties, said Robbins. When cleaning up the old Plumas House lot to create Dame Shirley Plaza a number of years ago, workers had to remove a buried coal oil tank, which had been used to heat the hotel. Fortunately, a relative of the former owner remembered exactly where the spout was located, saving hours of searching. There have been a few times when Robbins has relied on the memories of old-timers in that way.
A secret passage?
One of the most pervasive local rumors tells of a secret passage connecting the courthouse with 521 Main St., the former site of Bob’s Fine Foods, across from the courthouse and immediately east of the Huskinson Block in downtown Quincy. In one version of the story, the passage was designed to spirit prisoners out of the courthouse in order to avoid vigilante justice — an unlikely contingency by 1935, when the building was constructed. In another, it was simply an easy way to transport food to the prisoners in the fourth-floor jail. Or perhaps it was used to hide, transport or store liquor. Prohibition may have been over, but alcohol was still taxed.
Sara Frigo, co-owner of the Wildflower Cafe, the most recent occupant of 521 Main St., confirmed that there is a hatch in the floor leading to a space beneath the restaurant. As for a tunnel between the courthouse and the restaurant, there is “no truth to the rumor in any way, shape or form,” said former Plumas County Museum Director Scott Lawson. The area is also known for flooding.
Cornerstone time capsules
The cornerstone of a building is traditionally the first stone set in a masonry foundation. In the 19th-century United States, the laying of a cornerstone for notable public buildings was a ceremonial occasion presided over by the Freemasons. Such events often included depositing a sealed cast-iron or copper time capsule. Plumas County’s courthouse has been host to several such time capsules, all located near the northeast corner of the building.
The first was buried when the original building was remodeled 1871. It was evidently misplaced for a time. In 1919, as the Feather River Bulletin reported, “Each morning finds an anxious crowd gathered about the Plumas County Court House, patiently awaiting the discovery of the corner stone that is said to contain a number of mementos of the olden days.” Eventually the time capsule was located and now resides in the collections of the Plumas County Museum. Records indicate that it contained several newspapers, including one from 1865, and a great register — the voting register kept by the county clerk at the time.
The next such treasure trove was deposited inside the cornerstone of the current courthouse at the Sept. 6, 1919, dedication ceremony. It included a range of records documenting local Masonic lodges, the educational system, county elected officials and officers, the public library, and Plumas Forest Reserve (precursor to Plumas National Forest).
The time capsule was retrieved and reopened Sept. 14, 1979, in celebration of the 125th anniversary of the county’s founding, and the 60th anniversary of the cornerstone’s placement. It was reinterred with additions the following summer, including contributions from the postmaster, several fraternal clubs, the chamber of commerce, the schools and college, the California Department of Transportation, Plumas and Lassen national forests, the county fair office, the historical society, and the newspapers. Even the state assemblyman made a contribution.
The cornerstone time capsule was most recently reopened and rededicated in 2004, in acknowledgement of the county’s 150th anniversary.
Sources and further reading
“Anxiously Seek Cornerstone.” Feather River Bulletin, June 19, 1919.
“At the Court House.” Plumas National Bulletin, Sept. 13, 1928.
“Courthouse Dedication Will Be Big Affair at Quincy September Ninth.” Plumas National Bulletin, Sept. 1, 1921.
“Courthouse ‘Time Capsule’ to Be Replaced.” Feather River Bulletin, June 25, 1980.
Droege, Lena. “Court House’s New Paint Job Recalls History of Building.” Feather River Bulletin, July 4, 1957.
“Interior New Court House Appeals to Sense of Beauty.” Plumas National Bulletin, Feb. 3, 1921.
“Masonic Fraternity Officiate at Dedication of Plumas County’s Public Building; Many In Attendance.” Plumas National Bulletin, Sept. 18, 1919.
“Masons Replay Courthouse Cornerstone Dedication.” Feather River Bulletin, July 23, 1980.
“New Plumas County Court Room Be Peer of Its Kind.” Plumas National Bulletin, Nov. 18, 1920.
“New Plumas Court House Will Be Dedicated.” The Sacramento Bee, Sept. 3, 1921.
“Plumas County’s New Court House.” Plumas National Bulletin, June 30, 1921.
“Quincy to Have a New Court House.” Plumas Independent, Feb. 2, 1919.
