Between five and six o’clock on the evening of Saturday last, Judge Horace Templeton breathed his last. Some time ago he underwent an operation, and for some time his life was despaired of. Getting better and being about his business, his friends supposed him well. Two weeks ago, he was taken sick and almost before his friends knew that his life was almost gone, he passed to the shadowy land without a struggle. Twelve hours before his death, one of his watchmen asked him if he suffered any pain. He answered in the negative, which were the last words he spoke.

We exclaim in the significant language of old “How have the mighty fallen?”. In many respects Judge Templeton was a man among his fellows. With keen perception, quickness for arriving at conclusions, (generally the right ones) with ambition to do and boldness to dare, a determination to be recognized and felt, and superior animal magnetism, he held friends in admiration and enemies in awe. His ambition to lead was felt by all who came in contact with him, and his willingness to become the hero or scapegoat of every enterprise with which he was identified, made him a leader and a prominent target of praise and condemnation. Hypocrisy was no part of his character. He played a bold hand in business and always for keeps. Everything that came to his net was fish and “Bag them, my boy” without reference to how they reached the ground was the motto. Anything before defeat. If he had a point to gain in politics or business, he studied his man, went over the ground and where he could not coax, he would drive and if he could not drive, he would out flank or fall with all his force on the enemy’s weakest point. He hated his enemies with hatred good and genuine, a hatred that bristled all over with prickers. To his friends, he stuck like a brother. To know that a man admired and boasted of his prowness, rated “Old Temp”, as he was proud to be addressed, as a specimen of the first magnitude, made Templeton display his friendly feeling in ways unmistakable. He never split peas or made months on trifles. He gave freely and gave often. If a proven friend called for help, Templeton was at home. He wanted his associates to ride in good vehicles and behind fast horses, but give him the front seat. He had no taste for other men’s dust. Second best was distastful, not that his friends should have less but him more. His crowning ambition was to be a dispenser of justice “When I’m on the bench, I’m Judge, you bet, and friends and foes will get their desserts alike”. The people so recognized him. It was not for the love of money so much that he made money as it was to make things lively and show his detractors that he was around. If there was anything that did him more good than another, it was to out general some one that had played him false. When by actual force of intellect he had brought a traitor down, he was in the zenith of his happiness.

Redwood City was Judge Templeton’s pride. He had come here a young man, without money and without friends. He had struggled with the people, fought their fight and progressed with their progress. What he had in the way of wealth he made here and had invested here. From his continued connection with the lumber business, he knew and appreciated roads and ever manifested a lively interest in their construction. They generally got around to his mills or his mills located themselves along the road, but this did not make the roads any worse for those who wished to travel them or disadvantageously effect the contour of the country through which they passed.

Templeton was the embodiment of enterprise. As a leader it will be hard to find his equal. It would be an utter impossibility to find another such man in every respect. Repeatedly has this opinion been expressed during his illness and the late political campaigns. His absence was keenly felt by those whose interests were his interests.

Born in Vermont forty-nine years and two months ago, Horace Templeton spent his early manhood engaged in carpentering in his native state. His education was fair and if he was ever engaged in the ministry, it must have been as an exhorter, without chart and without license. He came to California in 1853 and settled in Searsville. He engaged in the lumber business and was at one time Justice of the Peace, He and R.F. Fox contested for the Judgeship when San Mateo was first set off. As the vote counted, Fox was successful. Templeton would not be beaten, and for months, two county courts were in full blast. He was subsequently elected to the Judgeship, and at each succeeding election for County Judge, he succeeded in succeeding himself by large majorities. At the time of his death, he had been judge for twelve years. Eight years ago, hc married a sister of J. Crowley of this place. He leaves in this state a widow, a son, a sister and nephew to mourn his loss. His nephew, H.M. Templeton, was a partner in a saw mill on the San Gregorio River and the Tunitas Chute.

The deceased was warm in his attachments, genial in his intercourse and most affectionate in his family relations.

On Monday at ten o’clock the body, followed by a long procession, moved from “T’s” residence to the Congregational Church. The rain was falling fast. Splash, splash went the horses hoofs as they raised and fell in the mud. Many fòotmen on the sidewalks were gentlemen from the distant portions of the county. They were warm friends of the deceased from abroad. At the church, Rev, H. E. Jewett officiated delivering a funeral sermon that we hope to publish in our next issue. The pallbearers at the grave were the supervisors: M.L. Britton, A.F. Green, H. Kelly, and attorneys Geo W. Fox, Wm. R. Smith and Duncan McPherson. The rain continued to fall as the procession moved to the grave. While the body was being lowered into the earth, the rain fell in torrents, patterning most dismally on the outer box. Hardly had the coffin reached the bottom of its narrow house before earth met earth and all that was mortal of Horace Templeton was hid from the eyes of men.

Plot 135

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