Privations of Pioneers

By William Daugherty in 1891.

Pioneers in Covered Wagons, Thomas Fogarty

Pioneers in Covered Wagons, Thomas Fogarty

Life in all new settlements was one of privation and hardship, where lingering hope often ended in despair and where success, if it came at all, came too late for the fortunate possessor to enjoy what, for a lifetime, had been coveted. The history of the boom lands of California offered many illustrations of the truth of this assertion and nowhere was it more strikingly presented than in the San Joaquin Valley. During a visit to that section since the results of the boom were felt, the writer had an opportunity of verifying this fact by actual observation, and the sudden transition from pinching poverty to easy affluence was so strikingly presented that it left a lasting impression. Although it has been of frequent occurrence in the history of Nevada, yet the conditions here were far different, and here, the favorites of fortune were not usually placed at such a disadvantage as the early settlers of the isolated sections of California. Nevada was settled with a rush; almost in the nighttime, towns sprang into existence, and its people were from the start — collected as they were from all parts of the world — brightened and polished by the contact and friction with the different elements, and were thus enabled to keep up with the times, and in fact, usually a little ahead. But, such was not the case with the cowboy element of the San Joaquin Valley. There, progression was at a standstill from the early settlements until years after, when the boom suddenly lifted into prominence many of the sleepy denizens who had dropped out of the march of progress as completely as Rip Van Winkle during his 20 years sleep.

Visiting San Francisco with one of the fortunate pioneers of Fresno, the writer was introduced by the latter to a noted physician of San Francisco who had,  25 years before, on his first arrival in California coming across the plains, stopped for a while near Millerton. The story is best told in his own words:

The valley was a vast, vacant, and treeless plain. Near the foothills were oak groves in which the early settlers made their homes, usually under the trees, and with rude outdoor surroundings; and the doctor said he was frequently called to attend childbirth only when a rawhide stretched on the limbs above protected the patient from sun or rain. Times improved slowly and people built cheap houses of boards, but, used to outdoor life, left holes for doors and windows and did not bother about providing any other floor than mother earth. Horse racing was a favorite pastime and the social gatherings that resulted induced an early settler to build a big house for entertainment, and in it, he laid a floor. A house warming was given, a fiddler was imported, and a dance wound up the event.

The doctor went and in honor of the event put on his broadcloth that for long had been laid away. When he put in an appearance, he observed that none were attired in conventional costume. The gentlemen wore their pants in their boots with a red sash at the waist, were in their shirt-sleeves, and instead of collar and tie had a flowing white handkerchief around their necks, and most of them kept on their heavy Mexican spurs. The ladies were in calico gowns of the Simple Susan style. The doctor sat down by an elderly matron who was one of his patients and who suggested that he should dance with her daughter Mary, a buxom girl of sixteen summers who sat by her side.

The doctor, being a Chesterfield in manners and desiring to propitiate his friends, offered himself with much gallantry as a partner for the cotillion then forming. But Mary declined, and without any explanation stepped out on the floor with one of the boys in vaquero costume and danced with hearty zest. The doctor bit his lips and talked with the mother until the dance ended and Mary returned to her seat. Then the mother said: “Mary, why didn’t you dance with the doctor instead of Jack? He asked you first.” And with a look of wounded dignity, Mary replied: “Me dance with him? Him a coming here wearin’ a coat and puttin on airs; not much.” “But,” said the doctor, “times have changed since then. Men who were land poor and couldn’t pay their taxes unless they went without tobacco, are now rolling in wealth and wearing coats every day.”

By William Daugherty, for the Reno Evening Gazette, March 17, 1891. Compiled and edited by Kathy Weiser/Legends of America, updated January 2021.

About the Author: Written by William Daugherty wrote for the Reno Evening Gazette in 1891. The Gazette was first published on October 12, 1876, and continued for the next 107 years. In 1977, it was merged with the Nevada State Journal and continues to exist today as the Reno Gazette-Journal.

Note: The article is not verbatim as spelling errors, minor grammatical changes, and editing have occurred for the ease of the modern reader.

Also See:

Pioneers on the Nevada Frontier (Reno Evening Gazette)

Tales of the Overland Stage (Reno Evening Gazette)

Nevada Mining Tales (Reno Evening Gazette)

Nevada – The Silver State