Recollections of a San Rafael Blacksmith
By I. F. McDowell, October 16, 1936
This Federal Writers’ Project narrative was compiled by a writer assigned to document Marin County history in the 1930s. The typescript, and many others on a variety of subjects, is housed at the Anne T. Kent California Room.
Fifty years ago [in the 1880s] San Rafael was not much of a village, according to John (Jack the Red) Redmond who lived in the town all of his more than 70 years. He is one of the original blacksmiths of the community and received his training under his father who was a smithy before him.
In those days, according to Redmond, the business district of the town ended at what is now Lootens Place. Beyond that to the east was a vast pear orchard and grape vineyard, planted by the early Padres who founded the Mission San Rafael, and who made their own wines for their church.
The orchard and vineyard extended for several of the present city blocks in [the] area, and this was a favorite spot in which to hide, if one were inclined to play hookey from school in those days, when truant officers were of an unknown quantity.
But woe betide the culprit who was caught in the act of pilfering grapes or pears, by one of the mission fathers.
San Rafael early became the home of many well-to-do San Francisco business men because of the more salubrious climate. They almost all had their stables of blooded horses, their carriages and coachmen, and it was no uncommon sight on a pleasant Sunday afternoon to observe fine teams of horses driven by their owners [in] a buckboard, racing at full speed over the country roads.
And sometimes those men would wager pretty fair sums on the speed of their animals.
Shoeing horses in those days of 50 years ago was a good and profitable business, and Redmond at one time employed as many as eight horse shoers. Himself an expert at the trade, there were many of his customers who refused to allow any person but Redmond to care for their horses’ feet.
“Some people think that the business of shoeing a horse is just yanking off an old iron shoe, and putting on a new one,” Redmond mused. “But that is not so. There is just as much finesse in fitting iron shoes to a horse’s hoof as there is nowadays in fitting comfortable shoes to the feet of a human being.
“In order for a horse to be at his best, he must have the proper shoes, and the blacksmith must judge from the weight of the horse, and his general activity, just what sort of shoe to fit — whether light, medium or heavy; and just how large the ‘corks’ on the shoes must be.”
Redmond tells of an incident which brought him a large increase in business.
A certain resident owned a fine blooded stallion. Redmond had never shod this animal. One day the stallion went lame. The owner took him to every veterinarian and every blacksmith shop in San Rafael without learning the cause.
Finally in desperation he went to Redmond, told his story, and asked Jack to look the animal over.
The lameness was in the right fore foot. The smithy examined the leg from shoulder to the fetlock, inch by inch.
Finding nothing wrong with the leg, he continued his examination with the hoof, deciding that the trouble lay there.
Although of a somewhat ugly nature, the horse apparently realized that Redmond was seeking to assuage his pain, for he stood perfectly still and did not balk at the examination.
The iron shoe was removed and Redmond began gently tapping the bottom of the hoof with his hammer. Suddenly the stallion snorted and balked. The blacksmith had found the seat of the trouble, and after quieting the animal, he continued.
Carefully paring away the softer part of the hoof underneath, Redmond uncovered the broken end of a horse shoe nail, and with great effort was able to extract the portion which had become imbedded to a depth of more than an inch through the hoof and into the flesh.
“That horse knew I was trying to help him,” said Redmond reflectively. “He nuzzled my face and nibbled at my hands trying to tell me how much he appreciated what I had done for him. But it was nothing! It was all in the day’s work.”
But the owner of the horse knew it was something, and from that time on he sang the praises of Jack Redmond and brought him a great deal of business.
“Those were the days,” says (Jack the Red) Redmond. “I wouldn’t give one of these fine old horses of 50 years ago for all the automobiles in the country now. I like to shoe horses, especially fine horses, and I still do. There are few here in San Rafael at the present time but nothing like it used to be.”
And Redmond dismissed his interviewer with a shrug as he pounded away at a piece of iron on the anvil which has been in his family for more than three quarters of a century.
J. C. “Jack” Redmond, whose parents had immigrated from Ireland, died shortly after his interview and before this essay had been written by McDowell. He was survived by wife Mary and four children.
