The Mammoth Book of the West (15 page)

Undoubtedly, the greatest racial hate was reserved for the Chinese forty-niners. According to custom house figures 25,000 Chinese passed through San Francisco in 1852 alone. Alien and incomprehensible, the Chinese were despised even for their careful reworking of claims long since abandoned by Whites as unprofitable. They were routinely harassed and sometimes murdered, while cutting off their pigtails was considered fine sport in a drunken spree.

By the middle 1850s it was clear that the day of the independent Californian prospector was over. California’s surface and near-surface gold had been taken, the region prospected from top to bottom. There was still gold, but it was locked in lodes of quartz or buried deep in the ground. To get it required tunnels, mills and machinery. Few independents had the necessary finance. The day of the eastern capitalist mining corporation had come.

Thousands and thousands of prospectors gazed on a dull and poor future. Few could conceive of any other life. Mining was an incurable disease; in the eye of the Argonaut every river was gold-bedded, every hill veined with precious yellow. Only mining would do.

The prospector was curiously blessed, for just as the last placer gold in California was drying up, gold was discovered in America’s far western interior. With pack mule, pan and boundless hope the prospector headed to the Gila River in southern Arizona in 1853. The first Colorado gold rush, in the Pike’s Peak area, came in 1859. Gold-seekers from the depressed Mid-West rolled Colorado way in wagons emblazoned with the slogan “Pike’s Peak or Bust!” (later, failed Argonauts headed home with “Busted, by God!” scrawled on their tailboards). The same year saw the discovery of the famous Comstock Lode in the eastern Sierras of Nevada.

The Washoe field in Nevada had been prospected in a desultory fashion since 1848, but in June of 1859 Peter O’Riley and Patrick McLaughlin discovered the fabulous Ophir Vein at Six Mile Canyon. As they dug furiously the man whose name would eventually grace the strike rode up, the dubious, slothful Henry T. P. Comstock, who declared that he and his partners, James “Old Virginny” Finney and Manny Penrod, owned the claim. Although O’Riley and McLaughlin did not believe him, they took the three into partnership. Before the Lode gave out it yielded $300 million in precious metals, and helped finance the Union side in the Civil War.

Among the 10,000 Californians who rushed to the Washoe strike was George Hearst, father of the future newspaper magnate. Hearst bought out Patrick McLaughlin’s share in the Ophir Mine for $3,500 – a sum Hearst got back countless times over. The other Ophir partners proved almost as gullible; O’Riley was bought out for $40,000 and “Old Pancake” Comstock for $10,000, he already having bought out the hapless, bibulous “Old Virginny” Finney for a blind horse and bottle of bourbon.
To Virginny’s cold comfort, the shanty town which rose in the valley below the find was called after him: Virginia City.

After the Comstock rush, the mining boom moved north into Idaho and onwards to Montana, where rich placers were found between 1862 and 1864. The large discovery at Alder Gulch in 1863 was made by Henry Edgar, who kept a journal detailing his life as a miner, a classic account of the lows, dangers (which in Montana numbered Indians) and the occasional excitements of the independent prospector:

May 2nd: All went well through the night, but towards morning the horses became restless, and required a good deal of looking after. Just as morning came I took two of them where the boys were sleeping and woke them up. I put the saddles on and was just going out to Bill when the hills were alive with Indians. They were all around Bill and I got on the horse and started for him, but an Indian grabbed him by the head; I pulled my revolver, Simmons was along side of me and told me not to shoot. Well, I got off and gave the rope of the other horse to my Indian. Here they come with other horses and Bill mounted behind another Indian with hat in one hand and rifle in the other, digging his heels in the horse’s flanks and yelling like the very devil he is. “How goes it boys?” he asked as he got off. Simmons was talking to the Indians and told us to keep quiet. Quiet, everything we had they had got, but our arms! A young buck took hold of Cover’s gun and tried to take it from him. Bill stuck his revolver in the buck’s ear, he looked in Bill’s face and let go of the gun. We told Simmons to tell them that they had got everything but our guns and that they could not get them without killing us first. We were told to keep them. Everything we had was packed and off to the village. Such a hubbub when we got
there. Our traps were put in a pile and a tent put over them. Simmons and the chiefs held a long pow wow. The women brought us some breakfast; good of the kind and plenty. Simmons told us we were prisoners, to keep still and not to be afraid. I went through the village and counted the lodges; there were 180 of them. We talk the matter over and agree to keep together and if it has to come to the worst to fight while life lasts. All the young ones are around us and the women. What fun! We get plenty to eat; Indians are putting up a great big lodge – medicine lodge at that. Night, what will tomorrow bring forth? I write this – will any one ever see it? Quite dark and such a noise, dogs and drums!

May 3rd: All is well. What will we get for breakfast, that is the first thing? Barney has got some flour. Bill asks “If we can get some coffee?” I go to the grub pile. Sugar and coffee all gone. An old woman is watching me. I take the coffee pot and show it to her. She knows what I want and hands me some coffee and sugar; buffalo meat in plenty, cut what we want; high living. The Medicine man made medicine all night. Wonder what the outcome will be? The village is on a large, low flat on the left bank of the river, with a large wooded hill back of it. Could we make that? Yes, the boys say when the time comes we will make it. Simmons tells us we are wanted at the medicine lodge; up we go. Bill says, “Ten o’clock, court now opens.” We went in, the medicine man sat on the ground at the far end; both sides were lined with the head men Red Bear and Little Crow, the two chiefs of the village, sat beside the medicine man. We were taken in hand by an old buck; in the center of the lodge there was a bush planted, – the medicine bush – and around and around that bush we went. At last their curiosity was satisfied and we were led out to Red Bear’s lodge and told to remain there. We had a good laugh over our cake walk. Bill says if they take us in
again we will pull up that medicine bush and whack the medicine man with it. We tell him not to, but he says he will sure. An order comes again, and we go in and around the bush. At the third time Bill pulls up the bush and Mr. Medicine Man gets it on the head. What a time! Not a word spoken; what deep silence for a few minutes! Out we go and the Indians after us. We stand back to back, three facing each way; Red Bear and Little Crow driving the crowd back with their whips, and peace is proclaimed. Red Bear mounts his horse and started in on the longest talk I ever heard of; I don’t know what he is talking about; Simmons says he is talking for us. He began the talk about noon and he was still talking when I fell asleep at midnight. We are all in Red Bear’s lodge and a guard around it.

May 4th: All’s well that ends well. We were told this morning what the verdict was. If we go on down the river they will kill us; if we go back they will give us horses to go with. A bunch of horses were driven up and given to us. I got a blind eyed black and another plug for my three; the rest of the boys in the same fix, except Bill, he got his three back. We got our saddles, a hundred pounds of flour, some coffee, sugar, one plug of tobacco and two robes each for our clothes and blankets; glad to get so much. It did not take us long to saddle up. Simmons asked us what was best for him to do, stop with the Indians or go with us. I spoke for the boys and told him he had better stay with the Indians, if he was afraid to risk his scalp with white men. He stayed. We got away at last. Harry Rodgers was riding by my side. I asked him what he thought would be the outcome. His answer was “God is good.” The Indians told us to cross at the ford and go up the south side of the river. We met an old Indian woman and she told us not to cross the ford. She made us understand that if we did we would all be killed. When we came to the ford
we camped and got something to eat and when it was dark saddled up and traveled all night; took to the hills in the morning; we were about forty or forty-five miles from our friends, the Indians. They told us Stuart was one day ahead. What has become of them? . . .

May 26th: Off again; horse pretty lame and Bill leading him out of the timber; fine grassy hills and lots of quartz; some antelope in sight; down a long ridge to a creek and camp; had dinner, and Rodgers, Sweeney, Barney and Cover go up the creek to prospect. It was Bill’s and my turn to guard camp and look after the horses. We washed and doctored the horse’s leg. Bill went across to a bar to see or look for a place to stake the horses. When he came back to camp he said “There is a piece of rimrock sticking out of the bar over there. Get the tools and we will go and prospect it.” Bill got the pick and shovel and the pan and went over. Bill dug the dirt and filled the pan. “Now go” he says, “and wash that pan and see if you can get enough to buy some tobacco when we get to town.” I had the pan more than half panned down and had seen some gold as I ran the sand around, when Bill sang out “I have found a scad.” I returned for answer, “If you have one I have a hundred.” He then came down to where I was with his scad. It was a nice piece of gold. Well, I panned the pan of dirt and it was a good prospect; weighed it and had two dollars and forty cents; weighed Bill’s scad and it weighed the same. Four dollars and eighty cents! Pretty good for tobacco money. We went and got another pan and Bill panned that and got more than I had; I got the third one and panned that – best of the three; that is good enough to sleep on. We came to camp, dried and weighed our gold, altogether there was twelve dollars and thirty cents. We saw the boys coming to camp and no tools with them. “Have you found anything?” “We have started a hole but didn’t get to bedrock.” They began to growl about the
horses not being taken care of and to give Bill and me fits. When I pulled the pan around Sweeney got hold of it and the next minute sang out “Salted!” I told Sweeney that if he “would pipe Bill and me down and run us through a sluice box he couldn’t get a color,” and “the horses could go to the devil or the Indians.” Well, we talked over the find and roasted venison till late; and sought the brush, and spread our robes; and a joyous lot of men never went more contentedly to bed than we.

May 27th: Up before the sun; horses all right; soon the frying pan was on the fire. Sweeney was off with the pan and Barney telling him “to take it aisy”. He panned his pan and beat both Bill and me. He had five dollars and thirty cents. “Well, you have got it good, by Jove!” were his greeting words. When we got filled up with elk, Hughes and Cover went up the gulch, Sweeney and Rodgers down. Bill and I to the old place. We panned turn about ten pans at a time, all day long, and it was good dirt too. “A grub stake is what we are after” was our watchword all day, and it is one hundred and fifty dollars in good dust. “God is good” as Rodgers said when we left the Indian camp. Sweeney and Rodgers found a good prospect and have eighteen dollars of the gold to show for it. Barney and Tom brought in four dollars and a half. As we quit, Bill says “there’s our supper,” a large band of antelope on the hillside. We had our guns with us. He took up one draw and I the other, it was getting dark, but light enough to shoot, got to a good place within about seventy five yards and shot; the one I shot at never moved; I thought it missed; I rolled over and loaded up my gun, then the antelope was gone. Bill had shot by this time; I went to where the one I shot at was standing, and found some blood, and the antelope dead not ten steps away; Bill got one too; ate our fill; off to bed.

May 28th: Staked the ground this morning; claims one
hundred feet. Sweeney wanted a water – a notice written for a water right and asked me to write it for him. I wrote it for him; then “What name shall we give the creek?” The boys said “You name it.” So I wrote “Alder.” There was a large fringe of Alder growing along the creek, looking nice and green and the name was given. We staked twelve claims for our friends and named the bars Cover, Fairweather and Rodgers where the discoveries were made. We agree to say nothing of the discovery when we get to Bannack and come back and prospect the gulch thoroughly and get the best. It was midday when we left; we came down the creek past the forks and to its mouth, made marks so we could find the same again and on down the valley (Ram’s Horn Gulch) to a small creek; the same we camped on as we went out and made camp for the night; a more happy lot of boys would be hard to find, though covered with seedy clothes.

May 29th: All well. Breakfast such as we have, bread and antelope and cold water and good appetites. What better fare could a prince wish! It might be worse and without the good seasoning given by our find. Down and over the Stinking Water along a high level bench twelve miles or more to the Beaverhead River, then up about six miles and camp. We have come about twenty-five miles.

May 30th: All well. Ate up the last of our meat for breakfast; will have supper at Bannack, ham and eggs. Away we go and have no cares. Crossed at the mouth of the Rattlesnake and up to the Bannack trail, the last stage over the hill and down to the town, the raggedest lot that was ever seen but happy. Friends on every side. Bob Dempsey grabbed our horses and cared for them. Frank Ruff got us to his cabin. Salt Lake eggs, ham, potatoes, everything. Such a supper! One has to be on short commons and then he will know. Too tired and too glad.

May 31st: Such excitement! Everyone with a long story
about the “new find”. After I got my store clothes on, I was sitting in a saloon talking with some friends; there were lots of men that were strangers to me; they were telling that we brought in a horse load of gold and not one of the party had told that we had found a color. Such is life in the “Far West.” Well we have been feasted and cared for like princes.