By William Daugherty in 1891
Man getting ready for bed.
During the first mining excitement in Utah in 1870-71, the great influx of strangers crowded the hotels of Salt Lake City to their utmost capacity. This was particularly the case with the Gentile hotels, which were few because the newcomers naturally sought their kind. Among the guests of the old Revere House was Bob Howland, who was known extensively among Nevada people as being a jolly, good-natured wag, full of the latest good stories, which he was an adept in telling, and always ready to perpetrate a joke if a chance presented itself. The hotel was filled every night and beds were at a premium at the established prices of $1 for single and $2 for double ones. As a favor to the landlords, as much as for the economy, Bob occupied a single bed in a room containing “two of a kind,” as Bob called them, with an open privilege to let the other bed to any respectable looking guest, if duly sober and not addicted to snoring.
On a late train, one night there arrived an elderly gentleman from the East, who registered as Mr. Robinson of Saratoga, New York, and asked for a room. He was duly informed of the crowded condition of the House and that the best that could be done was to assign him to a bed in the room with Mr. Howland. Mr. Robinson objected on the grounds that he could not possibly sleep in the same room with a stranger; but the clerk assured him that Mr. Howland was a perfect gentleman and a mining operator that enjoyed a high standing throughout the Territory and in the adjoining State of Nevada, and he added with cunning diplomacy, that he would not intrude upon Mr. Howland anyone but a respectable and reputable guest. Led to consent against his will, Robinson accepted the alternative and was led to the room door, where he asked further questions and was further assured of Howland’s high standing. Bob was in bed but not asleep and overheard the conversation. Robinson tiptoed in with his lamp, passing Bob’s bed, to the other side of the room, and when partly disrobed, Bob rolled over, gave a yawn, and said: “Hello, pard; going to bed?”
“Ahem! Yes,” said Robinson, “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“That’s all right,” said Bob; “I like company.”
“Ahem!” said Robinson; “but I am not used to sleeping among strangers.”
“Oh!” said Bob, “we are used to that out here.”
“Yes! yes! I presume,” said Robinson, “but I should not have intruded had not the clerk recommended you very highly.”
“The h–l he did,” said Bob. “He had no business to recommend me, for I was two years in the Nevada State Prison. But it’s all right, pard; good night,” and rolling over Bob soon simulated the deep breathing of contented sleep.
Robinson was uneasy, and after turning out the light, was debating the propriety of making his escape from the convict’s room, and lay in uneasy wakefulness for some time, when he was startled into fright and trembling by Bob’s sudden burst into the smothered yells of a nightmare. Robinson started from his bed to awaken Bob, who lay with the light shining through the transom full on his face, which, with the wrinkles and crow’s feet of mirth around his eyes, looked pretty hard. As Robinson touched him, Bob gave a snort, sprang up and flourishing a revolver, said in deep tragic tones: “Hold; let go, or I’ll shoot.” That was enough for Robinson; he made a break out the door, reached the main staircase, slid down the banisters into the office, and informed the astonished clerk that he had just escaped from a madman.
Explanations were of no avail, and the clerk finally conducted him to his personal room, where he passed the night. On the following morning, Robinson was introduced to Judge Haydon of Genoa, then visiting Salt Lake, and was relating his remarkable experience of the night before with a Nevada convict, and asked the Judge if he knew the man.
“No,” said the Judge, “I don’t, but here comes Bob Howland, and as he was Warden of the State Prison for two years under Governor Nye’s administration, perhaps he will know him.”
Robinson looked amazed as the light dawned upon him, stroked his gray beard, and stood in introduction, which Bob made smooth by saying in a laughing tone of badinage: “Hello, pard! You left me last night in a hurry. I was only fighting bed bugs–why didn’t you stay and see the fun.”
By William Daugherty, for the Reno Evening Gazette, April 7, 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)