Author Dave Eggers made another visit to Hollister on Wednesday and read passages from T.S. Hawkins’ autobiography “Some Recollections of a Busy Life.” Organizers at the San Benito County Historical Society called the standing-room-only audience a record crowd for one of their events.
Holding a red-bound copy of his great-great-grandfather’s 100-year-old original work — rather than the reissue that contains a version of Eggers’ New Yorker magazine essay, “An Actual Place Called Hollister” — Eggers read “passages from the book that I thought were very emblematic of Hawkins’ wit and his desire to sort of impart to his descendants what life was like back when he was a kid.”
The bank founder and rancher was a key figure in Hollister during the second half of the 19th Century. The excerpts detailed life on the California frontier: classrooms without clocks, backless benches, encounters with grizzly bears, indoor discharges of firearms and other inconveniences of life before electric vacuum cleaners and touch screens.
A family tragedy led to Hawkins’ most enduring accomplishment. “It was in the spring of 1902 that I suffered the greatest sorrow of my life, in the death of my little grandchild, Hazel Hawkins,” T.S. Hawkins wrote in a chapter read by Eggers. “She was my constant companion, and we loved each other with a devotion I have never known before.”
“On the fifth of March, as I stood by her bedside, she opened her eyes and looking at me said in her sweet voice, ‘Good-night Grandpa,’ and then fell asleep, to awaken in the Paradise of God,” Hawkins wrote.
“Because he felt like her death was avoidable had there been better medical care, he built the Hazel Hawkins Memorial Hospital,” Eggers said
Eggers encouraged audience members to write down their personal stories and interview family members. “Put it down for your descendants because everybody’s life is fascinating.”
Although Eggers is obviously promoting a book, his relationship with the community has proven to be quite different than the exploitative use of the city’s name by other merchandisers. He visited a school during the day to mentor students. And he signed stacks of books clutched by community members and distant relatives, patiently listening to all of their stories until he had been there for three hours.
When it was over, Eggers offered his future help to support the Historical Society’s work and thanked volunteers for helping with his research. Then he brought up the money that had been collected from people who paid $25 to purchase the book. “You can keep it,” he said to the surprised association officers.
“It’s just two boxes of books.”
“Let me know if you need another box.”
Then he asked to be pointed in the right direction so he could begin his two-hour drive home.
