The Roots Of Merced

Most old towns have a long and storied history, Merced is no exception.

Recently I was down at the Merced library attempting to smash Indiana Jones style through the floor hoping to find an entrance to the underground bunkers which run for miles under the streets. I did not however find them. What I did find was a water main, which I might add should never have been constructed of such flimsy material that one errant whack could burst it into a geyser rivaling Old Faithful.

This mishap however is not the subject of this post. As I was dashing from the now flooded library, an old manuscript fell from the copy of the Dickens classic Sense and Sensibility I had been using as an umbrella. I quickly rescued it from the water and made my way through the back alleys until I reached the relative safety of my bridge.
Once underground I sat down to read this fascinating find. It was a complete history of Merced.

To read the whole thing to you would be far too long for one post, but I’ll give you the gist of the town’s beginnings, it’s not word for word, but close enough.

The area now known as Merced was first inhabited by a small band of prehistoric Indians who lived in harmony with the land, and eventually came to believe that all living things were sacred. This belief however proved tragic, unable to bring themselves to harm anything they soon starved to death. Much Much later, another band of Indians who called themselves the Heapmuckabouts came to build the first settlements on what is now Main Street. Lead by the great chief Grublywampum (no known relation to yours truly) they soon flourished. Years ahead of their time they invented such things as the Property Boundary, the Spiked Dog Collar, and Itching Powder. Infact they were so advanced that they would have noboubt become a Western Europe. But despite these technological advancements, their weaponry never advanced beyond the pointed stick, and this oversight was their downfall. On a never ending quest for the seven cities of gold, the Conquistador Salvador Grumpypuss marched north and attacked the tribe, whose only defense was to rush the Spaniards head on, sprinkle itching powder down their armor then attempt to poke them to death with their sticks. The battle lasted less than ten minuets and resulted in the wholesale slaughter of all but one of the brave Heapmuckabouts.

(A distant relative of this last Indian still lives in Merced. A hopeless drunk, he spends his time on a small hummock of land behind the Seven Eleven parking lot, which he has declared as his own Sovran nation. Approaching him is not advisable unless you want to be poked in the eye with a sharpened stick)

Salvador Grumpypuss never did find gold, in a strange twist of irony he left his hut one night to relive him self. On his way back he became lost, and while stumbling around in the dark he stepped on a long discarded pointy stick and died of blood poisoning a few days later. Salvador’s men, now with out a purpose decided to erect a mission, and become monks. The mission was the first ever built in California, but is never mentioned in the text books. The life span of this mission was far to short for that. One night Brother Enrique dozed off in prayer and set his beard alight with an alter candle. In blazing panic Brother Enrique ran into the powder room and blew the building and all two dozen of it’s occupants to kingdom come.

After this mishap the Area of Merced became a waste land, feared by all both red and white. Then in 1840 an enterprising old man, Tinplate Possumgrumble became the grudging founder of what is now this great town. But how that came to be is a story for another night.