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 Death Valley Myths -
Now
that the government scientific expedition has explored
Death Valley and
fully exposed the characteristics of that natural hothouse, one can be
pardoned for "looking backward" and recalling the myths and extravagant
stories that were rife with its early history. The writer recalls some of
the first explorers that he was personally acquainted with, who 25 years
ago ventured from one of
Nevada's
mining camps, and, pushing southward into the unknown deserts of that
time, explored the borders of that desert of desolation. They returned in
due time with samples of ore, containing gold and silver, cinnabar and
galena; specimens of dwarf vegetation, and palmetto cactus, all of which
was viewed with curiosity, and the belief that such trophies would for
years be rare to any but the hardiest and most adventurous prospectors.
Among other curiosities brought back from the trip was a quantity of
petrified wood, crystallized like agate in the natural bright colors of
resinous pine, showing the rings of the tree as clearly as if just cut. It
was sold for fifty cents a pound and by the skill of the lapidary wrought
into beautiful ornaments and sent east as souvenirs from the early
explorers of this, then wonderful and promising land. It was the romantic
era of discovery.
The
air was filled with stories of wonderful treasures that, in hidden places,
were alluring the prospector to attempt hardship, and even danger and
death, to expose to the light, and turn into the commercial channels of
the world. But, the reptiles and insects of that strange section were
looked upon with more than ordinary aversion. The rattlers were vicious
and wicked looking and the "side winders," with their erratic movements,
seemed more dangerous than they were. The chuckwalla with its big,
snake-shaped tail, was a hideous monster to pick up in the dark, and the
sensation was terrifying when one threw one of them from his blankets for
the first time. But, they were harmless and the Ivanpah
Indians considered
them dainty food; and we were fully convinced that they were palatable
when we came across an old prospector named "Tex," who roamed from there
to Arizona frequently, with no other food than the mesquite beans and
lizards that he collected on his way. The scientists will probably find
no new species in the collections sent to the Smithsonian Institute, but
they will appear strange and will repay a careful classification.
Article in the Reno Evening Gazette, June 17, 1891.
 A Doctor Without A Diploma -
In 1866 Governor Henry G. Blasdell headed an exploring party and
proceeded to the southeastern part of
Nevada to explore what was then a
quite unknown region. It was so far off and out of the way that it was
always a standing joke against our first territorial Governor who
recommended its organization into a new county, which the Legislature did,
and in irony of its remoteness, named it Nye. It remained an unknown
region until Governor Blasdell set out to explore it. He went with a
number of companions from Carson by the old overland road to Austin in a
conveyance of their own. From Austin they turned southward through Smoky
Valley, and at the Junction, then known as Minium's Station, they camped
for the night. The proprietor of the Twin River Stage Line was camped
there also, and during the night he was awakened by a commotion in the
Governor's party, and was told that the governor was sick and was in great
need of a doctor. There was none in the crowd, and as the case seemed
urgent, there was no time to waste in sending 30 miles to Austin
for one. The stage man went to the Governor and made inquiries, and
judging from the symptoms, as he would of a horse, he told the Governor it
was merely a bad case of colic and recommended a dose of Perry Davis' Pain
Killer, a bottle of which he had in the front boot of the stage. The
Governor was very thankful and took a good dose, which, in a few moments,
had the desired effect, and in due time the patient was asleep, as were
all the rest of the party. Some years after that the stage man referred to
went to Bodie,
California and being broken down in purse and health hung out a
shingle announcing himself an M.D., and soon had a very good practice from
people who took fright at a cold and feared pneumonia, and in which our Aesculapius [Greek God of Medicine]
succeeded very well in treating, about as he had his stage horses when
they had the epizootic. Other physicians coming into camp soon grew
jealous of his success, and learning that he had no diploma had him
arrested under the quackery law of
California. Our doctor appeared in
court to plead his own case, but had nothing to say until the prosecution
had duly opened the case, presented the evidence and read the law which
applied. Its provisions were up to this time unknown to our doctor, and he
was quaking in his boots for fear of the results, until the prosecuting
attorney read the provision that no one should be exempt from the penalty
of practicing without a diploma unless they had followed the profession by
prescribing in actual practice more than ten years before the passage of
the Act, which occurred in 1876. Our doctor breathed easier and
immediately took the stand, and in defense he testified, with the most
serious gravity, that he had prescribed for and not only treated, but
effected a permanent cure for Governor Blasdell of
Nevada in 1866, when on
his famous exploring expedition to the Pahranagat Valley. He was, of course,
acquitted and discharged, but he skipped over the line into
Nevada without
any delay, and with many regrets at having his practice broken up.
Article in the Reno Evening Gazette, February 11, 1891.
 A House Built On Rocks -
"Talk about hard times," said a Reese River pioneer, "why,
you ain't in it," and stroking his beard he gave his experience in the
winter of 1864-65; and, with the exception of some embellishments not
pertinent to the present times, the story ran about as follows: He and two
comrades went to Austin in the spring of 1864, and spent what money they
had in prospecting during that summer and fall, and when winter set in, it
found the party waiting like Micawber, for none of their locations had
proved to be productive, and there had been no income to enable them to
replenish their stores of provisions. As the winter advanced, rations grew
short, and they were sorely perplexed as to the final outcome. They were
all industrious fellows and good workers when work was to be had. But,
this was an exceptional time, for the town was crowded with idle men, and
work could not be obtained.
Flour
was $30.00 a hundred and all provisions were on the same scale of prices
and credit was out of the question. It was, in reality, famine to a great
many honest men, and "beans straight" soon became a luxury. The three
comrades occupied a dug out in the hillside, and it took, as they
expressed it, some tall skirmishing to keep warm, with the snow four feet
deep and frozen hard all around them. Each of them skirmished around
during the day, with earnest efforts to obtain work, but the results
continued the same, for each night found them in their hole in the wall, a
little nearer the bottom of the bean sack, and with nothing encouraging
for the morrow.
During the preceding fall, an enthusiastic preacher had asked for a number
of miners to bond some of their locations to him, and let him go east to
organize a company, and out of the proceeds he would build a church. They,
among others had responded by donating some of their supposed worthless
mining locations for the good cause, never, however, expecting a blessing
to follow, and only taking a little temporary amusement out of the
preacher's words of thanks, which were to the effect that "the Lord loveth
a good giver."
During the hard winter, and on one of their darkest days, one of the trio
was notified by the express agent in a confidential undertone that there
was some money at the office for them, and merely awaited their proper
identification. This was soon obtained, and to their great astonishment
they found that the sum reached the magnificent amount of $3,000, sent to
them by the preacher for the mines bonded and almost forgotten. The money
was in crisp new greenbacks, about the only kind that came from the east
then, and was duly paid over to them at the express counter. The leader of
the trio was made custodian of it while they filed out of the office and
wended their way to the dug-out in the hillside with a great deal of
caution, for the treasure seemed immense.
Upon
arriving at the cabin, the door was closed and securely fastened, and one
of them suggested that it be counted again to assure them that it was all
correct. The chosen custodian spread it out and slowly counted over the
crisp bills. His fingers were cold, and his nervous condition made it a
slow task, especially because the other two had seated themselves on
powder kegs, and lighting their pipes and crossing their legs were content
in watching the precious pile. The count was finally finished and the
custodian looking up said: "Well boys, its all here, what shall we do
now?" expecting of course that they would suggest an immediate division;
but to his surprise, one of the boys knocked the ashes out of his pipe on
the chime of the powder keg, and with some deliberation said, "Boys, let's
pray." With the money coming from the source it did, and the suggestion
being made in such a serious manner, the situation seemed ludicrous, and a
hearty laugh preceded a hearty feast in commemoration of their
providential deliverance from the stress of threatened hunger. In due time
the preacher returned, and out of the venture built of brick, the cozy
little Methodist church that still stands as a monument of faith in the
shire town of Lander County.
Article in the Reno Evening Gazette, February 20, 1891
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