Posts Tagged ‘Nevada’

Teacher is Born in a Wagon Train

September 7, 2012

PACIFIC GROVE, Aug. 25. —  Mrs. Alice Ede Gamman, Former high school teacher in this state and in Nevada, and now a resident of this city, is another “covered wagon baby.” She was born near the Platte river in June, 1862, while her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Ede, were on their way west in a wagon train from Waukesha, Wisconsin.

Mrs. Gamman’s parents settled in Summit, now Chilkoot, Plumas county, where her brothers engaged in the cattle business. In 1875 the family moved to Reno, Nev. Mrs. Gamman was educated in the public schools of Nevada and California, and graduated from the old Napa college in 1883. Afterward she taught in grammar and high schools of Nevada and California for nearly 30 years.

In 1905 she married Robert W. Gamman, son of another pioneer family. He died in 1918.

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) Aug 25, 1925

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Feb 9, 1915

Image from Find-A-Grave

Mrs. Alice Gamman Dies in California

Mrs. Alice Ede Gamman, former resident of Nevada, died Friday at her home at Pacific Grove, Calif., friends in Reno were informed yesterday. She was the eldest daughter of the late Stephen Ede, old-time resident.

Mrs. Gamman left here several years ago to reside on the coast. She was an aunt of Mrs. Harry J. Frost of Reno and leaves other relatives in western Nevada and Sierra valley,

Funeral services will be held in Oakland Tuesday at 11 a.m. followed by cremation. The ashes will be accompanied to Reno for burial in Mountain View cemetery.

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Apr 21, 1935

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Apr 30, 1935

Hidden Treasure near Franktown

April 13, 2012

Image from the Western Nevada Historic Photo Collection

Hidden Treasure.

Franktown in a Blaze of Excitement.
——-
$85,000 Buried By a Highwayman — Efforts to Find the Sack of Money — What the Spirits Say About the Matter — History of the Search.
——-

[From our own Correspondent]

For the past few days Franktown has been the scene of a great excitement over a supposed hidden treasure. Men, women and children have been hunting in the mountains for it. The story about the treasure has been known for the past twenty-five years. It is as follows: Some time in 1850 a man was tried and convicted of murder. Before his execution he made a confession, of which this is the substance:

THE ROBBER’S STORY

I had been a highway robber on the plains for years and had accumulated eighty-five thousand dollars. I started back to California to take a  steamer for the East. In November I reached Washoe valley, and seeing that a storm was brewing, I feared that I could not cross the mountains to California, so concluded to bury my money. I therefore buried it, back of Franktown, above what is known as the old Mormon mill, with the intention of returning for it in the spring. Not being satisfied with my gains, I went on the road again. Now here I stand, convicted of murder and doomed to die.

EARLY SEARCH FOR THE GOLD.

The above story is as told to me by a man who heard it, and who came to Washoe valley on purpose to seek the buried treasure. He came in 1858 or ‘9 and was well known to your correspondent and to all the old settlers in the valley. Failing in his search, he left in disgust for parts unknown. For years nothing has been openly said about the treasure, although it has been searched for from time to time by several parties.

THE AID OF SPIRITS INVOKED.

It has been known here for several days taht a prominent spiritualist from California, not at all acquainted with this section of the country, has described the exact location of the Morgan mill, and that he has led many up the side of the mountain to look after a fortune. Your correspondent has had an interview with Mrs. Bowers, “the Washoe Seeress,” and she says there is treasure hidden somewhere near Franktown. As she was here in ’54, she remembers well the story about the treasure. But strange to say, when she calls on her spirit friends, none of them are able to tell her the exact locality of the deposit. Even her deceased husband and brother, whom she claims to be her constant companions, say they know nothing about it. The spiritual Mr. Bowers tells her that if he did, he would be sure to tell her, as he knows she needs money.

FINDING THE HOLE.

Maurice May had an idea that he knew where the treasure was hidden. So about 5 o’clock last Sunday morning, he and a confidential friend started out with pick and shovel to become suddenly rich. They at last reached the proper place to dig when, lo and behold, there they found a hole about four feet deep, and all that remained of the treasure was a dollar and a half, lying on the ground near the hole, an evidence that some one had been before them in the search. On the way home Maurice looked so disappointed to think that some of our Franktown Christians had robbed him of Eighty-Four Thousand, Nine Hundred and Ninety-Eight Dollars and fifty cents that a favorite dog failed to recognize him. The dog bit him and May shot the animal. It is hinted around that May suspects Judge Harcourt and Constable Frank Wooten of robbing him of the treasure that was as good as his, so that a double duel may soon be expected.

CHUCK-A-LUCK.

Franktown, Feb. 10, 1880.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Feb 11, 1880

AN UNEXPLAINED SUICIDE.

Charles F. Wooten Takes Poison at Victoria.

A Victoria (B.C.) dispatch, dated October 19t, contains the following of local interest: “Charles F. Wooten came to Victoria on the 18th of August from Virginia, Nev., and has been lodging at the Pritchard House ever since, under the assumed name of C.F. Whittaker. He has been living very quietly here and was very reticent, though claiming to be a mining man and at one time amalgamator at the United States Mint at Virginia, Nev. He retired very early Wednesday night, and his room was not disturbed till this morning, when its occupant was found dead. A bottle containing opium in liquid was found on the bureau. A Coroner’s jury returned a verdict of suicide by poison. The following letter was left by Wooten:

To Any lodge F.&A.M. of Victoria, B.C.:

Please give me a decent burial. I am a member and P.M. of Washoe City, Nev., U.S.A., and send your bill to my lodge. You will please inform James Twaddle, Tulare City, Tulare county, Cal., of this, and instruct him to tell my wife. I ask her forgiveness. No one to blame but myself. This is a cold world. Good-bye, Josie, good-bye. May God bless you and protect you. I have disgraced you, that is all. Frank.

C.F. WOOTEN.

Known in Victoria as Whittaker. Good-bye, my love; good-bye. FRANK.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Oct 23, 1888

The article mentions both Mormon Mill and Morgan Mill. I am not sure if this whole thing is made up (correspondent’s name is Chuck-A-Luck, after all) or if one of the mill names is a typo, as there appears to have been both a Mormon mill and a Morgan mill, although Morgan Mill was in Empire, Nevada, which is about 90 miles a way, give or take a few, so I am inclined to think he means Mormon Mill, which according to the page below, was owned by Orson Hyde, a Mormon.

Title: The history of Nevada, Volume 1
Editor: Sam Post Davis
Publisher: The Elms Publishing Co., Inc., 1913
Page 232 (google book link)

Here are two news clips mentioning the Morgan Mill:

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Sep 5, 1877

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Nov 27, 1883

The Mormon mill was a sawmill, while the Morgan mill processed ore. If I were to bury a fortune, I wouldn’t do it near a mill where they process ore, for fear some of the miners or other workers might find it.

Read more about Franktown here:

Title: General history and resources of Washoe County, Nevada, published under the auspices of the Nevada Educational Association
Compiled by: N. A. Hummel
Edition: reprint
Publisher: Sagebrush Press, 1969, 1888
FRANKTOWN – Page 10 (google book link)

Sarah Winnemucca: An Indian Princess

April 2, 2012

MISS SARAH WINNEMUCCA.

Miss Sarah Winnemucca recently passed through Carson, Nevada, on her way to Virginia City. This notable woman is commonly reputed to be the daughter of the old war chief of the Piutes, but this statement is denied, and it is represented that she was born of Digger parents somewhere in the foothills of the Sacramento Valley, and was educated by “The Sisters” at their Catholic academy in Marysville. Still the fact remains that she is enough versed in the Piute tongue to be able to talk fluently with the people of the tribe, for whom she had frequently acted as an interpreter. She is popularly regarded as the virgin queen of the Piutes; is a plain little woman, pretty dark; dresses like an American female, of rustic habits and modest pretensions; and talks English without any perceptible accent. She is a capable person, and reads our language and expresses herself in writing quite correctly, and with considerable force of expression. We have also heard of her writing poetry. As a reputed princess of the Piute blood royal she is a famous character. — [Carson, Nevada, Appeal.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Aug 2, 1873

THE PIUTE QUEEN.

A Letter From Her Highness to Chief Naches.

[Winnemucca Silver State.]

Naches, Chief of the Piutes, has received a letter from Sarah Winnemucca, the Piute Queen, now at Fort Simcoe, Washington Territory. She says she is well and doing well, and is now teaching a school among her people, which sixty of them, and sometimes more, attend. They have cleared about 70 acres of land and put in quite a crop of corn and potatoes. Lee Winnemucca is working for the agent at Simcoe Reservation, and Mattie, her niece, who accompanied her through the war last Summer, is dead. Twenty-one of the Piutes, who were taken to Simcoe last Winter have died, and there are quite a number of others on the sick list, many of whom are not expected to live. Those of the tribe who were taken to Vancouver as prisoners of war, she has not heard from, and she does not know what is going to be done with them. Princess Sally hankers for pine nuts, and wants Naches to send her as many of them as he can. She cannot tell when, if ever, she and her people are coming back, as they cannot leave without orders from Washington to that effect.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Jul 17, 1879

Sarah’s Challenge.

The following is said to be a literal copy of Sarah Winnemucca’s challenge to the editor of the Silver State:

Your statement that I am a drunkard is an infernal lie, and you knew it was false when you wrote it. If you are anything of a man you will meet me and give me satisfaction. I will cram the lie down your throat at the point of a bowie knife. An early answer will oblige.

SARAH WINNEMUCCA.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Feb 24, 1880

Image from dragonflydesigns – Ancient Voices

Married a California Princess.

SAN FRANCISCO, December 8. — The princess of the Piute Indians of Nevada, commonly called Sarah Winnemucca, was married last night at the Russ house, in this city, to L.H. Hopkins, an ex-soldier of the United States army, who arrived here from Arizona on November 3. The bridegroom informed a reporter that as far back as 1879, during the Bannock campaign, he first met the princess, and was smitten with her charms. Since then mutual feeling has inspired them and, an opportunity presenting itself, they resolved never to be separated again. Dr. Beers was the officiating minister. Princess Winnemucca Hopkins and Mr. Hopkins will take their departure for the east at an early date. The princess is well known on this coast. She has lived mainly in Carson, Nev., with her father, the old Chief Winnemucca, who died a few months ago. She is a bright girl, has a good English education, and looks more like a Mexican girl than Indian. She has regular features and dresses fairly. She is a great advocate of education and has lectured in this and other cities on the wrongs of her tribe.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Dec 9, 1881

Image from Fort Tours

PLEADING FOR HER RACE.

The Princess Winnemucca Before the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs.

WASHINGTON, April 22. — The Princess Sarah Winnemucca, of the Piute tribe of Indians, was before the senate committee on Indian affairs to-day, pleading for a setting apart of a reservation for her tribe. She was accompanied by a delegation of ladies and gentlemen from Baltimore. The Indian woman spoke in good English, emphasizing her remarks with graceful gestures. As she depicted the griefs of her people, she was frequently moved to tears. She said her tribe was scattered, that they had been driven from place to place, “Two winters ago,” she continued, “while being driven from one point old men and children were frozen to death. She also said that the Indian agents had deprived the tribe of the stores provided for them by the government. The Piutes are located in Nevada. The princess asked that camp McDermott be set apart for them.

The Atlanta Constitution ( Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 23, 1884

Google Book link – Read Online

An Indian Tale.

Life Among the Piutes,” is the title of a new book just published in the East, the authorship of which is accredited to Sarah Winnemucca, the Piute princess. In the introductory chapter the reputed authoress informs the reader that “I was born sometime about the year 1844. My grandfather, Winnemucca, was then camped at Humboldt Lake with others of his tribe. It was about that time that a party of white men returning from California, was seen approaching our camp,” etc., etc.

The book is said to be full of thrilling incidents in the life of the dusky heroine, (which of course never happened.) It tells all about the capture of Sallie and her brother by the whites and how they were taken to California and educated; how they rejoined the tribe as soon as liberated; how in after years they labored to keep peace between the whites and Indians; how the heroine wrestled with her people to make christians out of them, and to prevent them from becoming victims to King alcohol and other besetting sins forever thrown in their way by conscienceless white men, and all that sort of thing. One or two heart rending love stories, in which the authoress plays a conspicuous part, are also woven in to give spice to the narrative. All of which, no doubt, will be entertaining to people in the East who know the Indian and his mode of life simply through pictures drawn in fancy by Cooper and other blood and thunder novelists, but to those who have lived in Nevada a quarter of a century and are somewhat familiar with the Piute tribe and the career of this dusky heroine, whatever interest the book may contain will be from another and very different standpoint.

Weekly Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) May 3, 1884

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Sep 7, 1884

THE NORTHERN INDIANN.

They do Not Want to Go to Pyramid Reservation, and No Room For Them There if They Did.

The Silver State says:

Leggins’ band of Piutes, who remained peaceable during the Bannock war, were treated upon the cessation of hostilities exactly the same as the captured hostiles. By order of the Indian Bureau, they were taken under military escort from Fort McDermit, by way of Camp Harney, where they were joined by the hostiles, to Yakima, Washington Territory. Naches and Sarah Winnemucca went from here to Washington to intercede for Leggins’ band, and upon the representation of General Howard and other military officers, who were in the campaign against the Bannocks, and who knew that Leggins’ band was not on the warpath, the Secretary of the Interior promised Naches that the exiled Piutes should be permitted to return to their own country, and that they should be furnished a military escort through Oregon. Owing to opposition of the Indian Bureau and a change in the Cabinet, this promise was not fulfilled, although the Indians expected it would be; and after patiently waiting nearly three years, they made their escape from Yakima, crossed the Columbia river, and evading as far as possible the settlements in Oregon, finally reached their native hunting grounds, near Fort McDermit, almost naked and starving. During the intensely cold weather tow years ago, they suffered from hunger, as they had been on the road from Yakima all Summer, and had it not been for the military and settlers, many of them would have starved to death. The Legislature of 1883 asked Congress to provide for their immediate wants, and Congressman Cassidy succeeded in getting $5,000 appropriated to purchase food and clothing for them. About $1,000 of that amount was expended under the direction of the military at McDermit for their benefit, and possible the Indian Bureau may be able to account for the balance of it, though the Indians derived no benefit from it. Subsequently an appropriation was made to be expended in removing Leggins and his band to some reservation. A week ago, E.C. Ellet, a special Indian Commissioner, arrived from the East at McDermit to arrange for removing the Indians. He held a council with the head men of Leggins’ band, and they protested against being taken away from the land of their birth, stating that as their young men could work for the settlers herding cattle, etc., and hunt deer and other game, they preferred to remain, but expressed the hope that the Government would provide, during the Winter months at least, for the old and decrepid of the band, through the military, who always befriended friendly Indians. Commissioner Ellet, accompanied by Lieutenant Colville P. Terrett, then went to the Pyramid Reservation to see what provision, if any, had been made for the northern Indians, and if there was sufficient arable land there to accommodate them. We learn that they found that the lands which the northern Indians would have to occupy on the reservation are not susceptible of cultivation; that the best lands along the Truckee for eight or nine miles below Wadsworth are occupied by white squatters, who have good fences, and comfortable houses; and that Winnemucca Lake, which the Indians claim was originally included in the reservation, is now a resort for Chinese fishermen. They also ascertained that the supplies furnished the reservation were not sufficient for the want of the Indians now there, and that Leggins’ band would have to support themselves or starve if removed there. Commissioner Ellet, after due consultation with Agent Gibson at the reservation, did not hesitate to say that he would recommend the removal of the squatters from the Reservation, but even if that is accomplished there will not be room there for Leggins’ band, the old and feeble of whom, in his opinion, should be provided for where they are.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Dec 11, 1884

SARAH’S LIES ABOUT THE PIUTES STARVING ON THEIR RESERVATION.

Her Story of the Wrongs of Her People and False Charges of Dishonesty Against Indian Agent Gibson.

Sarah Winnemucca is the champion light-weight of the season, as will appear from a perusal of the following interview taken from the San Francisco Call of the 22d:

When old Winnemucca, the chief of the Piute Indians, died, he committed the interests of his people to his daughter Sarah. It was one of the most sagacious actions in the old man’s life. From that day to this Sarah Winnemucca has been the tireless friend of her people. She has brought to her work a fine mind, a generous nature, a fair education and indomitable energy. The first book written in the English language by an Indian is her vivid narrative of the wrongs of the Piutes and her eloquent appeal for justice for her people. In the history of the Indians she and Pocahontas will be the principal female characters, and her singular devotion to her race will no doubt be chronicled as an illustration of the better traits of the Indian character.

Sarah Winnemucca first spoke to a white audience several years ago in this city. The years that have intervened have been spent by her in addressing audiences in the East, relating to them the sad history of her tribe, and appealing to them to aid her people in their destitution. She has returned to San Francisco again. A Call reporter called upon her yesterday to inquire what the condition of her tribe was and what she proposed to do for them.

THE PIUTES STARVING.

“My people are famishing in the snow about Pyramid Lake, in Nevada,” she said sadly. “They are utterly destitute. My brother Natchez, the chief of the Piutes since the death of Winnemucca, my father, has only pine nuts to eat, and the speckled trout he catches in the lake. If he had not foreseen the need of the Winter last Summer, when he went into the mountains for the nuts, he would have had nothing. The Piutes are on the verge of starvation. They are growing weaker and weaker every day for want of food. They have been driven like wild beasts from place to place, and forced back from the meadows and the banks of rivers and streams into the mountains that are barren and wholly destitute of game.”

As Sarah Winnemucca, in these brief words, painted the destitute condition of her tribe, she expressed in her intelligent face the sorrow and indignation she felt. She is a woman slightly apast 40, with a heavy, yet shapely figure. Her face is exceedingly intelligent. She has strong jaws, with a delicate mouth, and cheek bones that are not so prominent as is usual in Indian faces. Her forehead is rather low, but broad, and her eyes are large and expressive. Her glossy black hair was gathered in a Grecian coil at the back, which showed the outline of her shapely head. She has easy command of colloquial English, and frequently expresses herself forcibly and eloquently.

“The Piutes are now on the reservation about Pyramid Lake,” she continued. “They number about 7,000 in all. It has been falsely said that the Pyramid Lake Reservation is rich in game and good lands. That was the representation made to the authorities at Washington when we were driven from the Malhuer Reservation. General Sheridan asked me, a short time ago, if our reservation did not afford us a good living. I told him that high bleak hills that only a goat could safely climb rose out of the water all around the lake; that the only arable lands were four acres on the river. He seemed astonished at the revelation, for he feels very kindly toward my people.”

FREEZING IN THE SNOW.

“How do your people live?” asked the reporter.

“Ah, that is a sad story, It is a wonder that they do live at all. They would all surely have perished long ago if their life-long experience with hardship had not inured them to scant food and exposure to cold. It is snowing now, doubtless, on their reservation, the lake and river are full of ice, yet they have no shelter except the wigwams, made of reeds and tule, no clothing save the bit of calico or blanket that they have picked up. Some of the young men herd cattle in Summer or work on farms near the reservation, and in that way they get a little money to buy blankets for the Winter; but they are the fortunate few. The rest have little to protect them from the cold.”

“What have they for food now?” inquired the reporter.

“Pine nuts, fish and rabbits. The latter is the only game on the whole reservation, and you may imagine how quickly they will disappear when hunted by 7,000 starving Indians.”

“Has no appropriation been made by the Government for the support of the Piutes?”

“My people do not belong to that class of Indians who are regularly provided for by the Government. At the last session of Congress Senator Dawes, of Massachusetts, secured an appropriation of $17,000 for the support of the Winnemucca tribe and Leggin’s band during this Winter, but not a cent of it has yet been spent for us, and I am afraid that it will never get farther than the hands of the rascally agents, who steal all they can get. My people are suffering for it now.”

THE INDIAN AGENT.

“Who is the Indian agent at your reservation?” asked the reporter.

“One Bill Gibson,” she replied with scorn. “He has employed all his relations in positions provided for by the Government, such as teachers, carpenters, blacksmiths and farmers. But they never do anything for the Indians. They live in idleness and draw their salaries regularly. The carpenter has not driven a nail for months; the teachers have never given a lesson; the blacksmith rarely lights a fire in his forge, and the farmer plows only for the white people. If a conspiracy were formed by the most cunning men to desert and neglect the Indians on our reservation, it could not succeed better than the selfish policy of Bill Gibson, the agent, and his hungry relations. Not a cent of the $17,000 which was appropriated for the support of the Piutes has been spent for us. Where it has been side-tracked on its journey from Washington I do not know.”

“Don’t the Indians sell fish and get money that way?”

“Yes; but they are robbed of that too. They are allowed to trade only with the settlers of the reservation. They but their fish at 5 or 6 cents a pound and sell it for 15 to 18 cents. My people don’t understand weighing either. They bring in a load of fish and the settler goes through the form of putting them on the scales and then tosses the Indian a silver dollar or two and goes off satisfied. Everyone connected with the agency is wholly devoid of conscience. They are there to get rich. There are people there who steal everything that the Government sends to us. They steal everything that the Indians own, and they run their cattle on our reservation, driving ours and the game off. It is a wretched state of affairs.”

“Are your people willing to become farmers?” asked the reporter.

“Yes, indeed, if they had but a chance. They are not a roaming, shiftless, lazy people. They want to work in the Summer they take it eagerly. If we could only get a start in agriculture, if we could only get arable land, we could take care of ourselves, but we have been driven from good land to worse, till now we are on about as bleak and barren a spot as there is in the whole state of Nevada.”

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Jan 25, 1885

Image from the National Park Service

Wants Protection.

Sarah Winnemucca writes the Silver State from Lovelock, complaining about the destruction of the Indians’ crops by the cattle and hogs belonging to white people, and asks if there is no law for the protection of the Piutes’ crops.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Dec 4, 1886

Image from A Landing A Day

An Indian Industrial School.

A Lovelock correspondent, under date of the 1st instant, writes to the [Silver State] as follows: “Princess Sarah Winnemucca goes East to agitate the matter of getting aid for building an industrial school on Chief Naches farm at Lovelock. Naches offers to donate a 40-acre tract for that purpose. The Princess will canvass among her eastern friends for their support and influence in trying to get Government aid towards the building of such an institution. There are some 400 Indian children within the country to be educated, and Sarah believes in educating them at home. She says it is all nonsense about the Indian children’s features changing when taken from home to be educated, as some papers go so far as to say, and that their features always remain as God made them. They learn rapidly at almost any school under proper treatment, but the right place to teach them is at home in their own State amid the surroundings of their childhood, with their parents, not among strangers in some distant land. Experience has taught her what her young people need, and the Government should make an appropriation and place her at the head of an Indian industrial school. So far she has conducted her school here without Government aid, having received assistance from her eastern friends, among them that grand old lady — Miss Peabody.”

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Jun 4, 1887

Superintendent W.I. Davis, of the Grand Junction School, with several Indian pupils, will leave here to-morrow morning for home. He expected to take with him at least forty recruits for his excellent school. He would have done so had not Piute Natchez, and his lovely relative the far-famed Princess Sarah Winnemucca, interposed a veto. This latter idolized friend of Mrs. Horace Mann and Miss Peabody can shed crocodile tears over the misfortunes and lamentable ignorance of “my people,” but now that the opportunity offers this “patron of learning” shows her hand. She is soon to go East to collect money to educate “my people,” but she protests against the Government educating them. She dislikes the Government and the dislike is mutual. Her dislike to the Government is her objection to “my people” being educated at the Government’s expense. If Sarah could handle the Government’s money as she does that of the misguided religious enthusiast there would never be a whisper by her against the Government educating the Piute people to which, unfortunately for them, she is a member.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Jun 7, 1887

PDF Link  Newspaper article:  Johnson Sides == “United States Peacemaker”

Combatting Superstition.

Princess Sarah Winnemucca came in from Humboldt last evening and had a long talk with Johnson Sides and other Piutes relative to the fraudulent prophet of Walker River, who is telling the Indians of that locality that the braves of former ages are soon to reappear on the earth to destroy all Indians who have adopted the habits of white people. Sarah and all the better informed of her tribe do not believe in any such foolishness.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Mar 25, 1889

Sarah Winnemucca, the Indian princess who attended Wellesley college, and under the nom de plume of “Bright Eyes” has written several frontier stories, is now teaching an Indian school of her own. She reports that she has fifteen or sixteen pupils, and is getting along nicely.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Apr 16, 1889

UNRELENTING BRAVES.

They Want Tuscarora Jake to Stretch Hemp.

A council of Shoshone Indian braves was held at Elko last week. Tuscarora Jake, the Indian thug, is in jail for the murder of two members of his tribe. The relatives and friends of Jake offered to give the relatives of the murdered men a certain number of ponies, blankets and money if they would consent to have him set at liberty, and to put up a number of ponies as indemnity for the future good behavior of Jake.

The relatives of the murdered men refused the offer, and said that Jake ought to be hanged, as he not only killed members of his own tribe, but a Chinaman also, for which another and an innocent Indian was sent to State Prison. The head men of the tribe concluded that Jake should be punished as an example and a warning to Indians who are disposed, while drunk, to murder members of their own tribe or others who happen in their way. They think Jake is guilty of a cold-blooded murder and ought to be publicly hanged, so that Indians and whites could see him die. Sarah Winnemucca and Nachez attended the council.

Weekly Gazette Stockman (Reno, Nevada) Oct 10, 1889

SARAH WINNEMUCCA.

Colonel Frank Parker Tells How She Once Saved His Life.

Princess Sarah Winnemucca, who died recently in Montana, was a remarkable woman in many respects, and a prominent feature in the Indian relations of the Pacific Coast for the past quarter of a century. She had but one idea, and that was the civilization of her people. She was the daughter of old Chief Winnemucca, of the great Piute tribe, which included the Bannocks, Sheep-eaters, Weisers, Malheurs and the Snake River Indians, who committed so many depredations in early days in Oregon and Idaho. Winnemucca and her whole family were ever true to the whites, and so far as their jurisdiction extended forced their tribes to peace. Colonel Frank J. Parker, editor of the Walla Walla Statesman, tell how she saved his life and that of his companions in the Malheur country in the spring of 1878:

Sarah was then on her way to the Malheur reservation in the vain endeavor to prevent the reservation Indians there from going on the warpath with Buffalo Horn. One night one of the horses of her team got away, and to help her out we loaned a young fellow, who was along with her, one of our horses to hunt the lost one. Charles Robinson of this city and a boy were along with us at the time, and for the help we rendered her we always gave credit for saving our little company from being killed. The Indians had already donned their war paint and we were in their midst. The very day we arrived on the reservation everything was looking dark. Sarah was all the time in consultation with Chief Egan, and sent for us. Going to her wickiup, she introduced Eagan, and intimated that we had better get, and stand not upon the order of getting. As we only had one gun among our crowd, the advice was taken.

After this Sarah joined Howard‘s outfit, and followed him throughout the Bannock campaign as a guide and a possible interpreter in case of a desire to surrender on the part of the hostiles. When the war ended she was in great demand by the Interior Department authorities, and did good work in having the remnants of her tribe removed to various other reservations where they could do no mischief. She was the only Indian on this coast who ever took any prominent part in settling the Indian question, and as such her memory should be respected.

Col. Parker could not have known old Winnemucca very well, for a more treacherous wretch never lived.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Nov 20, 1891

We called her Sarah Winnemucca, of the mint family? Well, Toc-me-to- which means shell-flower. Have you ever seen these flowers growing in an old garden among their many cousins of the mint family? Well, Tocme-to-ne loved them of all flowers best, for was she not herself a shell-flower?

Her people were Piute Indians, and they lived in every part of what is now the great state of Nevada.

Toc-me-to-ne had a flower name, so she was followed to take part in the children’s flower festival, when all the little girls dance and sing, holding hands and making believe that they are the very flowers for which they are named. They wear their own flowers, too, and after they have sung together for a while one will dance off on the grass by herself while all the boys and girls look on and she sings:

I am a daisy gold and white
Somebody catch me — me!

The grown-up people watch, too, as their children play, and Toc-me-to ne was never happier than when, light as a bird, she danced and sang her shellflower song:

See me – see me, a beautiful flower,
Give me a hand and a dance.

Then after the plays and dancing the children had all sorts of good things to eat, and the flower festival was over for a year.

Only three times did Toc-me-to-ne take part in the flower festival, for when she was quite a little girl, her grandfather, Chief Winnemucca, took his family and went to live in California, and when they came back she was almost grown up.

Her grandfather was very fond of her, and called her sweetheart, so she was sad and lonesome indeed when he left her and went to the Happy Spirit Land; but she did not forget his last words to her before he went. “Sweetheart,” he said, “do not forget my white brothers; be kind to them and they will be kind to you and teach you many things.”

In California the old chief gave to grandchildren new names — Natchez, Lee, Mary and Sarah, and Sarah learned to speak fairly good English. Later, when she came to Pyramid lake, she played with Mr. Ormsby’s children and learned to speak better English. Besides this Mrs. Ormsby taught her to cook and sew and to do housework.

When Sarah was fifteen years old she made the long 500-mile journey to California once more with her brother and sister and her grandmother. Her brothers took care of cattle for good Mr. Scott, who had known and loved Chief Winnemucca, and he gave them good wages, several fine horses, and two ponies for Sarah and Mary to ride. The sisters had always ridden bareback like Indian men, but when Christmas came Sarah was surprised to find a beautiful Mexican side-saddle from her brother Lee, and she learned to ride like the white ladies, and was very proud and happy.

Now the Piutes always would wander about. They lived by hunting and fishing, not by farming, so they moved from place to place wherever there was game. When they were in the mountains rough white settlers came to Pyramid lake and caught almost all of the fish with nets, so that there were no fish when the Indians returned. This made the Indians angry, and so trouble began. All this time Sarah was in California. Her father, Chief Winnemucca Second, and her mother were in Nevada, and she often heard good news from them, but one spring when she was seventeen years old two Indians came bringing the news from her father that he was in the mountains and wanted all his children to come to him, but especially Sarah.

Starting on their ponies they began the journey, riding beside the wagon where the grandmother rode. It took twenty-five days to reach Carson City, but here their father and mother met them, and next day all went to see Gov. Nye, whom Sarah told in English what her father, the chief, wanted to say.

Gov. Nye was very jolly and good, and when he knew how things really were he told the white settlers not to interfere with the Indians, and sent soldiers from the fort to drive the rough men away; so Gov. Nye and Chief Winnemucca became good friends, as they never could have been but for little Toc-me-to-ne and her bright interpretations.

For the next year Sarah talked both Piute and English, and settled many little troubles. She was called friend both by the Indians and soldiers, and her father and she thought often of old Chief Winnemucca’s words and kept peace with their white brothers.

New Oxford Item (New Oxford, Pennsylvania) Nov 5, 1908

Image from Nephilim Skulls International

Seek to clarify Indian myth about tribe of cannibal giants

By BRENDAN RILEY
Associated Press Writer

LOVELOCK, Nev. (AP) — Times are tough for the legendary red-haired cannibal giants whose alleged existence here centuries ago has been debated for nearly 100 years.

Scientists have said there’s no proof the “giants” first described in old Indian tales were cannibals. Chemical staining by earth after burial was advanced as a likely reason why mummified remains have red hair instead of black like most Indians in the area.

Now a new study under way at the University of Nevada indicates the “giants” were about six feet tall, and not up to 10 feet tall as had been claimed.
What’s left is evidence of a tribe separate from principal tribes whose Paiute descendants live here — perhaps a wandering, more aggressive but outnumbered band finally hunted down and killed or chased off.

Anthropologists say the story, while somewhat tamer, is still fascinating. But they concede the old myth has more appeal and, no matter what they say, will probably persist.

Don Tuohy, curator of anthropology at Nevada State Museum, says he’s confident the “giant” myth is about to be debunked. He asked for the latest study after a bundle of “giant” bones were found in a long-overlooked cabinet at the Nevada Historical Society building in Reno.

But Tuohy says the old tale will probably live on.

Dr. Sheilagh Brooks, chairwoman of the anthropology department at UN-La Vegas, is now analyzing the bones which apparently came from the Lovelock Cave, a nearby treasure trove for scientists trying to reconstruct Nevada’s early history.

Dr. Brooks says her initial investigation shows some of the bones were from cows, not giants. The human bones appear to be remains of Indians “maybe six feet tall — big, but not that big,” she says.

The myth was written down in 1883 by Sarah Winnemucca Hopkins, daughter of a Piaute Indian chief. She told of a strange, red-haired tribe of cannibals her ancestors drove into a cave and suffocated by lighting a fire at its entrance.

She said the “people eaters” were so fierce they would leap into the air, snatch arrows whizzing over their heads, and shoot them back at the Piaute attackers.

John T. Reid, a Lovelock, mining engineer, said Indians took him to the cave in 1886 and told him the same tale. But when he entered the cave he found nothing but tons of bat guano.

Reid was unsuccessful in getting an archeological dig started immediately. But miners realizing the value of guano as fertilizer started hauling it out in 1911. They promptly turned up bones, baskets, weapons, tools, duck decoys, various other artifacts and what they described as a 6-foot-8 red-haired mummy.

That spurred the first archeological dig in 1912. A second dig took place in 1924. Thousands of artifacts and about 60 average-height mummies were recovered. More studies followed, including radio-carbon dating which showed the cave was occupied from about 2,000 BC to about 900 AD.

Daily Leader (Pontiac, Illinois) Oct 4, 1976

Woman Prospector Nurses Husband

March 27, 2012

Image from PopArtMachine

WOMAN PROSPECTOR NURSES HUSBAND

Mrs. Patrick O’Hara arrived in town yesterday from Witherspoon canyon in the Tule Canyon district, with the news that her husband, Pat O’Hara, a mining man well known in Southern Nevada, had on July 23 accidentally shot himself in the thigh. He was hunting rabbits and on stopping to adjust the hobbles on a horse his revolver was discharged, the bullet entering a point high up in the thigh. The nearest habitation to the O’Hara camp is at Lida, eight or nine miles distant and owing to the excessive heat on the desert his wife was afraid to risk the long drive over the desert to Goldfield for medical aid and has herself been treating the injured man, assisted only by the few Indians in the section.

Image from University of Texas LibrariesNevada Historical Topographical Maps

There is no doctor nearer than Goldfield and Mrs. O’Hara was unable to leave the wounded man until yesterday, when she drove over the scorching Ralston desert for supplies. She says that the patient is now getting on very well and there are no signs of blood poisoning. O’Hara is a member of the Knights of Pythias and has been in the section for some time engaged in mining. His wife says that they have a good prospect with some excellent ore exposed in a large vein. She was formerly Mrs. Casey, and was known as the “woman prospector,” having traveled far and wide over the desert and prospected alone in many parts of the southern part of the state.

— Goldfield Tribune.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Aug 8, 1910

CENSUS RECORDS showing Patrick O’Hara and wife, Syliva:

***

In 1920, they were listed as living in Lida, Patrick’s occupation listed as miner (gold and silver.) In 1910, they show up in the town of Goldfield, Patrick also listed as a (gold) miner, second marriage for both, Sylvia having had 2 children, but none living.

***

According to the 1930 census, Patrick was no longer working, but Sylvia was a tailoress, in her own shop.

By 1938, old Sylvia was back to propecting!

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Dec 17, 1938

History of the Nivloc Mine – The Beginning

Celebrating Freedom and Independence

July 3, 2011

Letter from Senator Oldham.

RICHMOND, VA., January, 20th, 1865
[Excerpt]

Thus might the patriot manfully say:
“So freedom now so seldom makes
The only throb she gives,
As when some heart indignant breaks,
To tell that still she lives.”

No, better die ten thousand deaths battling for Liberty and right, than live a life so pregnant with ignominious shame.”

W.S. OLDHAM

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Feb 21, 1865

Centennial Poem.

Delivered by Hon. H.H. Hogan, at Reno, Nevada, July 4th, 1876.

With joy we hail our natal day!
Again we meet to homage pay,
And our exultant voices raise
In never ceasing songs of praise,
Unto the men so true and brave,
Those who to us our country gave;
And to give thanks to Him above,
For His great mercy and the love
He unto us has ever shown,
Since we a nation have been known.
Again the deeds of valor tell,
Of those who fought and those who fell;
Again recall the names of those
Who dealt destruction to their foes,
On battle field, on raging sea,
Their war-cry always victory.
Of Warren tell, so true and brave,
Who’d sooner die than be a slave;
He, when offer’d supreme command
Quickly grasped his gun in hand,
And to his gen’ral firmly said,
I fight where falls the thickest lead.
Of Washington, whose name will be
Revered unto Eternity,
In every clime, in every land
Where freemen breathe and freemen stand,
Upon the rights of man to man.
Of Henry bold, whose clarion tongue
Loud out in House of Burgess rung,
With stentorian eager cry,
Give to me death or liberty.
Not only men but women too,
In those days were staunch and true.
Moll Pitcher fought with bated breath
T’ avenge with blood her husband’s death,
On Monmouth’s field neath sweltering sun
By foes outnumbered two to one;
With form erect, and fearless mien,
None braver on that field were seen.
That widow in the old North State,
Whose age was nearly sixty-eight,
When asked by him who had command
For food himself with all his band,
She by herself did food prepare,
Of coarse but good substantial fare.
When they had finished their repast,
Each sated full his long felt fast,
To her again their leader then
Advanced to pay for all his men.
To you dear dame our gold we bring,
You serve of course our honored King.
Take back your gold ne’er be it said
That I for gold gave to you bread,
I gave you food as way my duty,
But not for gold, nor spoil, nor booty.
I serve your King! can such things be?
A charge like that and that of me?
In me, young man, in me behold,
A widow childless, worn and old;
Yet I was blessed with seven sons,
None ever bore more manly ones,
Who with their sire went forth to fight,
In Honor’s cause, for truth and right;
But non returned, all, all were lain
In graves unmarked upon the plain.
Look on this hand, so thin and poor,
These trembling limbs so near death’s door.
Had they the vigored strength of youth,
I, even I, would fight for truth.
But still to me ’tis thought most dear,
That when I’m called to leave this sphere,
Him shall I meet, him with the seven,
With their Maker, God, in Heaven.
Why speak of these, or names recall,
When all were heroes, each and all,
Each Mother offered up her prayer
That God would make his special care,
And safe return to her her son
As soon as freedom’s boon was won.
Each father with determined stand
Grasped his musket firm in hand,
And swore by Him above the sky
That he would conquer or would die.
For seven years amid toil and strife,
They fought exposing health and life;
They fought as brave men ever fight,
For God, Humanity and Right;
For parents, freedom, home and wife,
For children, liberty and life;
At times with hunger sore oppressed,
At times with clothing thinly dressed,
At Morristown for miles around
Their bare footprints in snow were found,
With sinews like the tempered steel,
These men seemed not to hardships feel,
But always eager for the fray
Came it by night, came it by day;
Not for vengeance, but with the thought
Each victory won the nearer brought
The time when Peace would them restore
To home, with friends, to part no more.
Nor were their toils and suff’ring vain,
They in the end did vict’ry gain
And have to us their children given
A boon, the dearest under Heaven;
A country vast, of wide domain
Made up of valley, hill and plain.
Where freemen live by honest toil
In happiness, and own the soil.
Where virtue brings its own reward,
Where every man stands out a lord.
Our land of every land most blessed,
Our Government the very best,
Here meet all nations of the earth
To celebrate our country’s birth.
No Oligarchs with titles old
Can tithings take, or rob our fold,
For us no tax for King remains,
For us no tyrant forges chains;
We can exclaim o’er land and sea,
In tones exultant, we are free.
For us n North, no South, shall be,
No East, no West, but unity;
With stern resolve to guard our land
From ruthless grasp of foreign hand;
And may that emblem of the free
To unborn nations yet to be.
Stand as did those pillar’d lights
To Moses and the Israelites,
When storms assail our Ship of State.
Do thou, Oh, God! Almighty! Great!
Avert the storm at Thy command,
Or guard us with Thy shelt’ring hand;
And may this our first Centennial
Be to others as perennial,
Till shall come the day Millennial.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Jul 5, 1876

Image from Find-A-Grave

The Passing of One of Reno’s Grand Old Men.

Dr. H.H. Hogan sleeps now. His noble life work is ended. Like the physician Ian McLaurin told us about in “Beside the Bonny Brier Bush,” Dr. Hogan was a willing servant of the poor. Many a time he accepted a less fee than was tendered him. Many a poor patient was tenderly and skillfully cared for and when asked for his bill, the good old physician would reply with a wave of his hand: “It is nothing.”

Henry Hardy Hogan closed his eyes at dawn yesterday morning. The light of the sun he did not see. His spirit eyes beheld the radiance of the city not built with hands.

He was the oldest physician in Nevada. Born in Alburg, Vermont, three score and eight years ago, he spent his boyhood days in the Green mountains. He had graduated from two medical colleges when Abraham Lincoln called him to arms.

The doctor enlisted in Co. G, 142d New York Infantry, and took part in many a battle for the flag.

After the war he came to Nevada and began the practice of medicine. He is survived by a wife, a son and an adopted daughter.

The funeral of this good man will take place from his late residence on Center street at 2 o’clock Thursday afternoon.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Mar 18, 1902

From the History of Washoe County (PDF):

…Washoe County pioneer Henry Hardy Hogan, M. D. Hogan had been born in Vermont in 1834, attended a college in Albany, New York, and studied medicine at a medical school in Burlington, Vermont. He enlisted as a private in the New York infantry for service in the Civil War and was discharged honorably on account of disability in 1863. Arriving at Ophir, Nevada Territory, in 1864, he resided there until moving to Reno when that town became the county seat. Hogan took a great interest in politics, serving in the Nevada legislature from Washoe County during the 1871, 1875 and 1895 sessions. In 1881 he established and edited the Plaindealer, a weekly and later a twice weekly Greenback paper, which suspended operations in 1884. The newspaper was revived in 1895 and lasted until 1899. On his death in Reno in 1902, Hogan was one of the oldest physicians residing in Nevada….

A Columbus Smörgåsbord of Sorts

October 11, 2010

 

 

Chirstopher Columbus (Image from http://www.bonney.org)

 

A San Domingo dispatch says that the remains of Christopher Columbus have been found there. It is proposed to erect a monument over them, and the American Governments are asked to contribute. Certainly Columbus should have a monument.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Nov 18, 1880

The Eureka papers are indulging in local sobs and hysterical jottings over the death of Christopher Columbus 375 years ago.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) May 23, 1881

Mr. Garfield wrote a letter in October, 1880, recommending that the 12th day of October be made a national holiday, in honor of Christopher Columbus and the discovery of America.

The Oshkosh Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Jun 1, 1882

 

Calvi, Corsica

 

FOREIGN DISPATCHES.

Born at Calvi.

PARIS, April 28.

Abbe Casanova, a Corsican archaeologist, has discovered archives which show that Christoper Columbus was born in the town of Calvi, in Corsica, and emigrated to Genoa. President Grevy, having examined the evidence and being satisfied of its authenticity, has authorized the authorities of Calvi to celebrate by an official holiday, the four hundredth anniversary of the discovery of America. The inhabitants of Calvi will hold a fete on May 23d, when the commemorative inscription will be placed on the house in which Columbus was born.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Apr 28, 1886

Where Was Columbus Born?

While statesmen and patriots are busy making history, the citizens of the little town of Calvi have been industriously upsetting biography. Every one knows that Christopher Columbus was born at Genoa. The intelligent schoolboy has read it in the geography books. The hard-working tourist has noted it in his Baedeker. The statue to the great navigator has been set up just outside the railway station, regardless alike of expense and (the critics say) of nature. No one an come in or out of the city without being impressed by the fact that he has seen it.

The citizens of Calvi have endured this for years. But the inhabitants of an island which produced Bonaparte were not to be silenced by stationary and guide books. They revolted and claimed their rights. Such festivities were held in honor of Columbus that all Corsica must regard his birthplace as settled. A marble tablet has been let into the front of the house where he was born, and Calvi claims, henceforth, an indefensible honor.

Unfortunately, some sixteen miles out of Genoa the frontage of a little mean tavern in the village of Cogoleto also exhibits a remarkable plaque. This is the inscription engraved upon it: “Stop, traveller. Here Columbus first saw light. This too straitened house was the home of a man greater than the world. There had been but one world. ‘Let there be two,’ said Columbus, and two there were.” Till Calvi can rival this Cogoleto is safe.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Sep 3, 1889

1. Silver label on the outside of he case in which Columbus’ remains were found.

2. The disputed label on the casket.

3. Lead sarcophagus containing body.

4. Famous old Spanish prison and fort at Santo Domingo.

5. The little case of solid gold which contains the remains.

6. Oldest house in the New World built and occupied by Columbus.

Lima News (Lima, Ohio) Oct 4, 1898

Something humorous mentioning Christopher Columbus:

UNCLE PETE ADVISES A YOUNG MAN.

We yesterday afternoon observed “Uncle Pete” propped at ease against his favorite lamp-post, and overheard him holding forth as follows to a young man of  the genus hoodlum:

“Young man, don’t you go to strivin’ for a big name or frettin’ yourself to make a mark in the world. It’s all wanity and wexation of spirit. You just turn philosopher. That’s the lay I’m on. Say to yourself the world owes me a livin’ and I’m bound to have it. That’s a motto to live up to. To live without care is my philosophy. All else is wanity. What does a man get for doing anything, makin’ inwentions and the like? Nuthin.

Look at Christopher Columbus, young man, and let his fate be a warnin’ to you. What does he get for the trouble he had in discoverin’ of America? He gits called a swindler and a imposture. He had all his trouble for nuthin’, for they have found out that he wasn’t the feller that discovered America, after all. It was some Laplander or one of the feller up north.

What does William H. Shakespeare git for the trouble he had writin’ them plays o’ his? He gets busted out entirely. They now say there never was no such man as William H. Shakespeare, and I believe ’em. No one man could a-done it.

What was the use of William Tell shootin’ old Geyser? He run a big risk of passin’ in his own checks and now they say thar never was no sich man. He’d better a-bin a philosopher and staid up in the mountains. See the life ole Robinson Crusoe led in that air solitary island! and now they say there never was no Crusoe.

Young man, don’t you never try to discover America, nor the steam engine, nor the telegraft — like old Moss did — cause you’ll find out when it’s too late, and you’ve had all the trouble; that it wasn’t you, but some other jackass that is dead and don’t know whether he ever done anything or not. Now here’s the latest instance: Supposin’ you to be Vasquez when you’ve gone and got up a reputation as Vasquez they find out you ain’t Vasquez, but are somebody else. Take my advice, young man, and lead the life of a philosopher; get all you can out of the world and never do nothin’ for the world; then you beat the world and are a true philosopher.

Virginia Enterprise.

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) May 31, 1874

 

Hoisting the Flag at Guantánamo, Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, Edward H. Hart, photographer, June 12, 1898. - Library of Congress

 

SPAIN LEAVES AMERICA.

AFTER FOUR CENTURIES SHE FORFEITS COLUMBUS’S GAINS.

The Flag of Castile and Leon Hauled Down From the Last American Possession — Once Floated Over Most of the Western Hemisphere.

More than four centuries of Spanish rule in both the Americas ended when the American flag was hoisted over Havana, Cuba.

The Spanish flag is swept from the western continent, north and south. The Stars and Stripes now flies in its place wherever the flag of some republic or one of the humane European monarchies did not already fly.

Spanish rule in America began in 1492, when Christopher Columbus, an Italian, discovered San Salvador Island. One voyage followed another — all South America and and a good share of North America, to say nothing of Central America, were once claimed by Spain. Columbus died in chains, but Spain was only too eager to profit by his discoveries, and ships and men followed wherever he had set his foot.

Cuba was discovered October 27, 1492, and named Juana by Columbus himself. This name didn’t suit, nor did several others. The natives called the beautiful island Cuba, and that name finally became its legal title.

Pinzon explored, thinking the island to be a part of India, but soon found out that it was an entirely new land. He found the Cubans a mild, hard-working race. It was easy to fasten on the Spanish yoke. With but a slight interruption it has endured ever since, the British capturing the island in 1762 with great loss and restoring it in 1763 under a treaty of peace.

The island was so fertile and tis climate so salubrious that it was soon well populated, despite the never-ending cruelties and impositions practiced by the Spaniards. The revenue was enormous — $25,000,000 a year — and Spain took it all. Spanish soldiers took care of the inhabitants when they protested.

They ruled all the neighboring islands, too, and put their unfortunate inhabitants under the same cruel yoke–  imprisoning, executing, torturing them upon the slightest pretext, and allowing slavery to flourish.

Cuba is now free.

So are all its 1,750,000 people.

Porto Rico is also free. It passed under Spanish rule soon after Cuba, but never even had the single year of humane British rule that Cuba enjoyed. It is known as the healthiest of the Antilles, and but for Spanish oppression would have been the garden spot of the world. Its 800,000 inhabitants will hereafter see nothing but the Star and Stripes from the flagstaffs.

Jamaica was the first of the Spanish possessions to get rid of the Spanish yoke. The British captured it in 1855 and have held it ever since. As a result Jamaica has outstripped all the West Indies. It is a beautiful island, rich in mineral wealth and fertile.

When Cortes invaded South America in 1521 he laid claim to all South America, Central America and North America. Spain claimed all the Pacific Coast from Cape Horn to Alaska, all the Atlantic Coast from Cape Horn to Georgia, Central America and South America, as well as Mexico. No other European nation could well dispute that claim, and Spain promised to be the greatest nation on earth. Now not a foot of earth on either side of he continent owns the Spanish flag.

After Jamaica, Florida was the first North American province to be free. The United States bought Florida from Spain in 1821. In 1822 it became a territory and a few years later a State.

In 1810 began the revolt in South America which ended in Spain’s being forced out from every possession in that continent, though it took a quarter of a century to do it. Spanish cruelties and impositions had been too terrible. One State after another revolted.

The great Bolivar led the revolt. In nine years he drove Spain out of what is now Colombia, Venezuela and Ecuador. Freedom got such a hold that other oppressed provinces took heart. Peru and Bolivia fought for and gained their independence in 1825, after suffering Spanish rule for more than three centuries. Argentine, Uruguay, Paraguay and Chile all cast off the yoke in bloodshed. Spain was cast out of South America forever.

Mexico and Central America resolved to be free or die 1821. It took these Spain-ridden countries till 1835 to be free.

Then the United States absorbed Texas and took California and all the rest of the Pacific Coast. Spanish influence was still further confined.

When the late war with Spain was declared the Spaniards ruled less than 3,000,000 people in the Western Hemisphere, and but two large islands, Cuba and Porto Rico. Mexico was gone, Central America, all South America and Jamaica.

Now these last two remaining islands have become free, and the Spaniards have betaken themselves back to Europe, whence they came!

Lima News (Lima, Ohio) Jan 26, 1899

*****

I stumbled across the following while searching for the real Christopher Columbus —

Christopher Columbus + Powning:

 

 

Nevada State Journal - Jun 27, 1896

 

EDITORIAL NOTES

The next time the editor of the Gold Hill News goes by here he had better get out of the cars and walk around the town instead of coming through it. His life won’t be safe after publishing such an article as the following:

“Christopher Columbus Powning, the eminent statesman of Washoe county is in Washington City, and the other day interviewed himself in the Critic of that place. The ‘interview’ bears the marks of Mr. Powning’s best style of composition. The advertising rate of the Critic are no doubt reasonable, which will account for the thrifty Senator’s selection of that paper as a medium of giving his foggy ideas to the world.”

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Jan 19, 1882

Christopher Columbus Powning came to Nevada in 1868 and located permanently at Reno in 1870, filling the position of “devil” on the Nevada State Journal, which paper was started at that time. In 1872, before he was twenty-one years of age, he became editor and in 1874 became sole proprietor of the paper. He was elected state senator from Washoe County in 1878, and in the early ’80s was a candidate for congress but was defeated by G.W. Cassidy. He was one of the most energetic men that ever located in Reno, filling many responsible positions, and passed from this life many years ago, while he was yet a comparatively young man.

Nevada Historical Society Papers, Vol.2 – 1920

In Poverty Street

September 2, 2010

Image from the Old Picture of the Day blog. (LINK)

We’re coming up on Labor Day, the economy is in the toilet, and the unemployment numbers are not looking good. Pretty soon we will all be:

IN POVERTY STREET.

It’s dirty, ill-smelling,
Its fellows the same,
With hardly a dwelling
Deserving the name;
It’s noisy and narrow,
With angles replete —
Not straight as an arrow
Is Poverty street.

Its houses are battered,
Unheated and small,
While children all tattered
Respond to the call;
There’s nothing inviting
That’s likely to greet
The stranger alighting
In Poverty street.

But something redeeming
Lies under it all —
Ambition is dreaming
In some little hall;
Some mother is praying
Successes may meet
The boy who is playing
In Poverty street.

Some fathers, depriving
Themselves of all joys,
Are valiantly striving
For sake of their boys;
Some sisters or brothers,
In sacrifice sweet,
Are living for others
In Poverty street.

Though lacking in glory,
And lacking in art,
There’s many a story
Appeals to the heart;
And years that are blighting
With tales of defeat
Find heroes still fighting
In Poverty street.

–Chicago Post.

Carroll Herald (Carroll, Iowa) Apr 15, 1896

Notice this poem was published on April 15th, ha ha!

Image by Paula Krugerud at http://www.pbase.com)

RENO REVUE

By GLADYS ROWLEY

So they buried Banker Bill. And there is mourning in Shantytown…

The first news accounts of an accident, last week, stated that an aged man, identified only as “Pat,” had been instantly killed when he walked into a moving car on the highway between Reno and Sparks.

Next day his identity has been established: He was John Elliott, stated the Journal, “81-year-old former sheepherder…a native of Missouri…a resident of Nevada for 45 years.”

But to his friends — and he had many — he was otherwise known. To them he was “Banker Bill” — who lived in “the big house” — in Shantytown.

Those who live along the river banks, on the outskirts of Reno, don’t bother much about names. The rest of us may call the section “Hoover Island” or “Shantytown.” Still others see it in a modern version of pioneer days, and think it should be called the “Reno Frontier.”

But the men, women and children who live there have other things to worry about. Only one name did I see when I visited a neighbor of Banker Bill’s. Neatly lettered on the side of a box-car house, a realist had written his address: 1000 POVERTY STREET.

There they do the best they can about the business of living. They have learned to minimize their requirements. A little fuel, for warmth, for cooking, is made to go a long way. They frequently go for it to a wood and coal company nearby. Sometimes it goes “on the cuf.” And before the bundle is carried home, they pass the time of day with the company’s proprietors.

So it was that I heard they were “grieving for Banker Bill.”

Mrs. Malcolm P. Armstrong knew him. And knew that the man identified as John Elliott “had been sort of got to these people.”

She introduced John W. Brandenburg, who told me, “We called him ‘Banker Bill’ because we always went to him about money matters.

“If you had to have five dollars, for instance, he’d just hand it to you,” he explained. “But if you asked for $20, he’d ask some questions about your ability to repay the loan.”

Mr. Brandenburg thought that I should talk with another friend of Banker Bill’s, Glen Hinkley, so we went to his home on the river bank — just below “the big house” back of the mill where “the banker” had lived.

Asked where Banker Bill had obtained capital for his simplified system of finance, both men assured me that he had received an old age pension, and had further eked it out with odd jobs, “though his age was against him there.”

Sometimes he had done a little mining. and then there were the borrowers who repaid him – sometimes — with interest:

“He always exacted interest,” said Mr. Hinckley, “if he knew the borrower could afford it.

“But he never collected half of what was owed him.”

Other things, too, the man had shared with his friends:

“He might have seemed kind of cranky — if you didn’t know him,” they said, “but he never turned anybody away without help.

“He’d share his own food, and his own blankets, before he’d let anybody go hungry or cold. No matter what they needed, if they deserved it, they got it from Banker Bill.”

Not often is such a floral offering seen at a funeral as that sent by his friends for Banker Bill’s last rites. He would have liked it, they knew:

“He was just crazy about wild flowers,” they said. “So we went out and gathered a great big bunch of wild flowers for when he was buried this afternoon.”

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) May 2, 1940

“The Salvation Army Home Service Campaign for $13,000,000 will be conducted during the week of May 19-26. It will spend every cent of the amount in the “Poverty Streets” of the United States.”

POVERTY STREET

The way lies crooked — winding ’round,
Ever, descending — leading down
To alleys dark where children creep;
To gaudy halls where women weep;
In Poverty Street.

One path cuts through the gloomy way,
One woman walked it day by day.
Midst vice and squalor she alone
Calls to the weary — leads them home
In Poverty Street.

They call her “Angel of the Slums”
Ever devoted, on she comes
Ever consoling, gentle, kind
She lifts the fallen, leads the blind
In Poverty Street.

E.M. Clary

Evening Telegram (Elyria, Ohio) Apr 28, 1919

The Old Court Leet in Cross Street ( Image from http://www.thepotteries.org)

THE MEETING PLACE

(A Warning)

I saw my fellows
In Poverty Street, –
Bitter and black with life’s defeat,
Ill-fed, ill-housed, of ills complete.
And I said to myself, —
“Surely death were sweet
To the people who live in Poverty Street.”

I saw my fellows
In Market Place, —
Avid and anxious, and hard of face,
Sweating their soul in the Godless race.
And I said to myself, —
“How shall these find grace
Who tread Him to death in the Market Place?”

I saw my fellows
In Vanity Fair, —
Revelling, rollicking, debonair,
Life all a Gaudy-Show, never a care.
And I said to myself, —
“Is there place for these
In my Lord’s well-appointed policies?”

I saw my fellows
In Old Church Row, —
Hot in discussion of things High and Low,
Cold to the seething volcano below.
And I said to myself, —
“The leaven is dead.The salt has no savour. The Spirit fled.”

I saw my fellows
As men and men, —
The Men of Pain, and the Men of Gain,
And the Men who lived in Gallanty-Lane.
And I said to myself, —
“What if those should dare
To claim from these others their rightful share?”

I saw them all
Where the Cross-Roads meet; —
Vanity Fair, and Poverty Street,
And the Mart, and the Church, — when the Red Drums beat,
And summoned them all to The Great Court-Leet.
And I cried unto God, —
“Now grant us Thy grace!”

*     *     *     *     *     *

For that was a terrible Meeting-Place.

Title: All’s Well!
Author: John Oxenham
Publisher: G.H. Doran, 1916
Pages 72-74

BattleBorn Burlesque: Celebrating the Fourth of July

July 1, 2010

Austin, Nevada - 1860s (Image from http://oak.cats.ohiou.edu)

EARLY NEVADA ORATORY.

How the old Time Austinites Celebrated

THE GLORIOUS FOURTH OF JULY.

The First “Horrible” Demonstration in the BattleBorn State.

In the early days of Austin a number of fun-loving citizens of that then flourishing camp inaugurated the custom of holding burlesque Fourth of July celebrations after the regular exercises of the day were over.

Upon this occasion Judge W.H. Beatty, now Chief Justice in California, arrayed in female apparel and representing Miss Susan B. Anthony, acted as President of the day, and Judge Boalt, the now eminent lawyer of San Francisco, read the “Declamation of Superintendents.”

The Rev. Theopalus Jenkins delivered the following oration, which was copied seriously by a number of English newspapers as a speciman of American frontier oratory and eloquence:

ORATION.

Fellow Hoodlums and Hoodlumesses, Grangers and Grangeresses, Female Crusaders and Male Persuaders, Whangdoodlers, Ore Thieves and Three-card Monte Dealers.

Governor Herny G. Blasdel

This is the proudest moment of my eventful life. when I cast my eagle eye over the sea of upturned and unwashed faces that surround me, and behold the familiar countenances of so many of my former comrades in arms who participated with me in that glorious struggle for liberty — at the last State’s prison break at Carson — the emotions of my heart are too powerful for utterance and I can only offer a silent benison to Governor Blasdel and the Pardoning Board of Nevada for tempering the wind to the shorn ram, in thus enabling us to cast our lines among the ewes and wethers of this beautifully heterogeneous and cosmopolitan metropolis of Manhattanville.

My fellow hoodlums. More than three hundred years have elapsed since our Pilgrim fathers left their mothers-in-law and all other cherished household gods behind them in the Old World that they might be enabled to worship God and burn witches and Quakers according to the dictates of their own consciences. They landed in the midst of a Siberian winter upon the inhospitable shores of New England, when there wasn’t a distillery in the country and Plymouth Rock wouldn’t pay ten dollars to the ton by the dry process with the Stetefeldt improvement. Beans and bacon were unattainable luxuries, and the Indians had a corner on pine nuts and dried grasshoppers. Times were tough and the puritanic goose was pendant at a depressed altitude.

But, did the lion hearts of our sturdy forefathers quail before this accumulated load of adversity? Nary a quail. Perseverance and religious ardor will accomplish wonders, and behold the result! To-day the potency of New England rum and New England school-marms is felt and appreciated wherever the arts and sciences are cherished and wherever civilization has a foothold. From the Georgia Major, who in the gorgeous oriental costume of his country bends the pregnant hinges of the knee before the throne of the King of Dahomey, to the civilized savage who builds his wigwam in obscurity on the populous banks of the turbulent Reese, from the everglades of Labrador to the snow-capped prairies of Texas; from the Coliseum at Rome to that modern monument of enterprise and enlightenment — the citizens’ mill at Austin; from Alfalfa to Omaha and from the Pyramids of Egypt to Simpson’s park.

My fellow hoodlums, there stands Plymouth Rock and there stands Plymouth Church — probably two of the best stands in the country. The literati of America have vied with one another in doing homage and giving to the guardian spirits of each a prominent page upon the history of our beloved country. Longfellow has immortalized in verse the blighted love of Miles Standish, while Victoria Woodhull warbles sweet refrains commemorative of the tender bonds of platonic affection which sanctify the lives of Henry Ward Beecher and Mrs. Theodore Tilton?.

But, my fellow Hoodlums, all this is digressive. We have not assembled here to-day for the purpose of doing homage to a barren boulder, but to celebrate the natal day of that great North American bird which whipped the universal game cock of creation, and caused the crown heads of Europe to shake in their boots worse than did that spermacetti duck of old, when the Apostle Paul shook his fist under his nose, and vociferated unto him, ‘Thou art the man!’

The great American Eagle that holds down the gallinacious bird of France with one claw, the double headed buzzard of Germany with the other and chaws up the British Lion into mincemeat, with the entire balance of the European menagerie roosting on his tail feathers! And yet this extraordinary bipedal cuss has not yet reached his prime of life! In a few years more he will confiscate the navies of Europe to build himself a nest, gobble the armies of the world for breakfast and afterwards use them to fertalize the soil of his ranch — which by that time will be bounded on the north by the Aurora Borealis, and on the south by the Antartic Cirle. He will turn England into a corral for his bronchos, and stable his mastodons in the Tulleries of France.

Battle Mountain (Image from http://www.biocrawler.com)

But to resume my digression. The great principles of E Plumbus Unum have never been more beautifully illustrated than in the growth and prosperity of our famous city. Here but a few short years ago the gentle Shoshone held undesputed sway. Clad in the gorgeous costume of his race, which consisted principally of an abbreviated breech clout and a couple of postage stamps — he pergrinating peacefully over his native hills, monarch of years has elapsed, since, where we now stand, no sound broke the solemn and serene stillness of the air — except the occasional yelp of the noble cayote as he stalked grandly over his native heath, dragging his majestic tail behind him. A few short years and behold the change! A city to which all the people of Lander county pay tribute. Her surrounding hillsides teeming with the fruitful sagebrush and nutritious pine nut. A city supporting three churches and thirteen fare banks, forty two gun mills and one quartz mill, and all that is wanted to make it the commercial center of the earth is a railroad from Battle Mountain or a high toned deck of hurdy-gurdies from Carson. A city whose common schools will compare favorably with those of any nation on the face of the earth. Where the standard of the moral culture of our youths have attained such an elevation, that the chances are — if they have good luck and no set backs — a majority of them will break into the penitentiary before they are twenty-one years of age.

Taking these things into consideration, my fellow hoodlums, let me admonish you, when to night, you retire to your several homes, in the hospital, the pest house and the calaboose, to firmly resolve in your minds that the fires of patriotism shall never burn dimly within you, and that you will never prove ungrateful to the country that supports such institutions for your benefit.

In conclusion, my fellow hudlums, I will remark that I am an Independent candidate for Congress, subject to the nomination of all the conventions that meet in the State. My principles are liberal, and were constructed especially to meet the emergencies of the approaching campaign. I am what might be termed and Independent Democratic Republican Granger. I am opposed to the Battle Mountain and Austin railroad — for the reason that I have generally found it more comfortable walking on state roads than on railroad ties. I am in fact opposed to all railroads, but in favor of free passes, free schools and free school marms. I believe that every woman has a constitutional right to be a school marm, and if I was on the Board of Trustees, I would vote for them all — irrespective of age, sex, color, or previous conditions of servitude.

I am opposed to the Sutro tunnel, but in favor of artesian wells — where they don’t conflict with the interests of distilleries and breweries. I am an ardent female suffragist and in favor of giving the ladies all they want and more, too, if they demand it.

I shall support Susan B. Anthony for President. She is one of the old time girls and I consider it a duty incumbent upon all forty-niners to stand in for her. Let us all stand in unitedly, and victory will purch upon her waterfall. The American eagle, from his cyrie in the mountains, will swoop down upon her, seize the slack of her pannier in his beak, and with her, wing a triumphant flight to the White House at Washington.

And now, my fellow hoodlums, for the purpose of testing the sense of this meeting, or rather for the purpose of testing whether or not this meeting has any sense, I will propose a conundrum:

All of you who are in favor of the political views I have just expressed, and are in favor of the aforesaid female and your humble servent for the respective positions I have mentioned, will manifest it by saying “Ay!” All opposed will fire off a six-shooter. It is carried unanimously, and I take great pleasure in extending to you all a cordial invitation to walk down to the Cedar street hydrant and take a drink at my expense.

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Jul 4, 1899

Mark Twain: How Samuel Clemens got his Nom de Plume

February 23, 2010

Samuel Clemens - aka - Mark Twain

MARK TWAIN —

How Sam Clemens obtained his nom de plume of Mark Twain.

A true story by the Eureka Sentinel:

We knew Clemens in the early days, and know exactly how he came to be dubbed “Mark Twain.”

Virginia City (Image from http://drew90210.wordpress.com)

John Piper’s saloon, on B street, used to be the grand rendezvous for all of the Virginia City Bohemians. Piper conducted a cash business, and refused to keep any books. As a special favor, however, he would occasionally chalk down drinks to the boys on the wall, back of the bar. Sam Clemens, when localizing for the Enterprise, always had an account, with the balance against him, on Piper’s wall. Clemens was by no means a Coal Oil Tommy, he drank for the pure and unadulterated love of the ardent. Most of his drinking was conducted in single-handed contests, but occasionally he would invite Dan De Quille, Charley Parker, Bob Lowery or Alf. Doten, never more than one of them, however, at a time, and whenever he did his invariable parting injunction to Piper was to “mark twain,” meaning two chalk marks, of course. It was in this way that he acquired the title which has since become famous wherever the English language is read or spoken.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) May 11, 1877

Hank Parish: A Royal City Desperado

September 27, 2009
Boarding House - El Dorado Canyon

Boarding House - El Dorado Canyon

Image from Southern Nevada: The Boomtown Years, on the UNLV website, which has quite a  collection of digital images.

*****

Hank [P]Farish and one Taylor, of El Dorado Canyon, had a row over a game of cards. Taylor upset the table and drew a knife. Farish whipped out his revolver and shot Taylor twice, wounding him badly.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Sep 9, 1879

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Murderous Desperado at Large in Lincoln County.

A letter from Pioche, under date of March 6, to a prominent gentleman of Eureka, gives the partial particulars of a desperate shooting scrape, which occurred at El Dorado, Lincoln county, in which two men were wounded, one slightly and the other fatally.

The letter reads as follows:

El Dorado has just had an extensive boom. Three days ago Hank Parish and a man styled Ni**er Clark were playing poker in Greenwood’s saloon. The former was drunk and lost $100. The loss incensed him and he pulled his pistol and shot Clark, wounding him, though not very seriously. Parish then opened fire on Greenwood and shot him in the stomach, inflicting a mortal wound. He then left. Shortly after the shooting Andy Fife, the Coroner, appeared on the scene, and was proceeding to take Greenwood’s deposition, when Parish again put in an appearance with a pistol in each hand, and demanded that Fife take $100 from Greenwood’s pocket, which he (Parish) had lost, or he would kill both of them forthwith. Of course Fife was obliged to comply in order to save his life at the hands of such a desperado. Parish defies arrest, and says he will kill the first man who attempts to arrest him. At the latest accounts he was still at large.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Mar 11, 1881

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The Pioche Record says that Greenwood, the man shot by Parish, in Lincoln county, is not dead, and is now considered out of danger. Clark, shot at the same time, is recovering, and it is thought that his wound will soon heal.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Mar 26,  1881

Royal City/Jackrabbit (Image from http://americanhistory.suite101.com)

Royal City/Jackrabbit (Image from http://americanhistory.suite101.com)

A LINCOLN COUNTY HOMICIDE.

A Drunken Brute’s Bloody Work at Royal City.

The Pioche Record of the 9th inst. says: At Royal City Sunday morning about 4:30 A.M. Hank Parish stabbed and mortally wounded P.G. Thompson, aged 31, a native of New Jersey, and lately from Aspen, Colo. As nearly as we can ascertain, the facts of the cutting are as follows: Bob Martin, H. Hill, P.G. Thompson and a Chinaman were engaged in playing poker at Jimmy Curtis’ saloon on the morning in question. Hank Parish was present, and being intoxicated, persisted in leaning on the shoulder of Thompson, although the latter remonstrated with him, claiming that he could not play poker under the circumstances.

Parish repeated the act a few times and returned to the bar, when the laughter of the poker party attracted his attention.It seems that the players were laughing at the Chinaman for passing out a “club flush,” but Parish seemingly thought that they were laughing at him, and advancing to the table, he addressed some foul language to the party, mainly addressing himself to Thompson, the latter replying that he did not give a d–n for him.

Upon this Parish struck him in the face with his right hand, and upon Thompson rising from the table, Parish struct out with his left hand and stabbed him with a large pocket knife a little above and to the right of the navel. Upon receiving the wound, Thompson cried out that he was hurt, and hurriedly left the saloon. Jimmy Curtis at once secured a team and brought the wounded man to town, arriving at McFadden’s Hotel at 8 A.M., and Dr. Nesbitt was summoned immediately.

Sheriff Turner at once secured a team and repaired to Royal City, where he arrested Parish, unaided, and he lost no time in jailing him on his return to town.

The wounded man did not seem to have a chance for recovery from the start, for previous to his death, Dr. Louder was called in and performed an operation at Thompson’s request, the same having shown an advanced stage of decomposition and that the bowels were badly cut. The deceased died Thursday evening about 9 o’clock, and although a stranger in the community, the citizens mourn him as an old resident, from the fact of his pleasing presence and fortitude under great bodily pain.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Aug 15, 1890

Noose

PARISH HUNG.

He Dies Protesting His Innocence, But Claims To Have Killed Three Men.

The White Pines News contains the following account of the hanging of Hank Parish at Ely on Friday last:

Hank Parish, for the murder of A.G. Thompson at Royal City last July, was hung in front of the jail yesterday at noon. The death warrant was read by Sheriff Bassett in the jail, and at two minutes to 12 o’clock the solemn procession wended its way from the jail to the scaffold, Parish ascending the steps without the least apparent fear. There were quite a number of spectators within the inclosure, and Parish stepped to the front railing and addressed them. He said:

“I have been charged with a great many crimes; I killed three men, and I was right in doing it. The last man I killed (Thompson), he assisted in stringing me up three times. They say I have a wife and family that I have not treated right. My wife has been dead thirteen years; I have two children in Oregon, well fixed. I am an ignorant man, have always been persecuted, and am innocent of crime. All this will appear in Mr. Murphy’s book of my life, and I want you to believe it.”

These words were spoken calmly and with ordinary coolness. He made no reference whatever to the Unknown Realm into which he was about to be launched, nor expressed any regret for anything he had done.

He then stepped back on the trap door, shook hands with the Sheriff and his attendants, the black cap was pulled over his head, the rope adjusted about his neck — and the News reporter hurriedly walked into the Court House to prevent witnessing the final act in the drama of life and death.

Sheriff Bassett sprung the trap; the fall was a little over six feet, and the doomed man’s neck was broken. There was not a move or a quiver of the body, and as soon as Dr. Campbell could get to feel the pulse he pronounced life extinct. The whole time occupied in the execution was but 12 minutes. Parish went on the scaffold at 2 minutes to 12 and was cut down at 10 minutes past 12.

Dr. Campbell examined his pulse before he left the jail. It was beating at 99. When the black cap was pulled over his head it ran up to 142. That Parish was a bad man, and met the fate he deserved, is the general sentiment of this community.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Dec 16, 1890

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The News says:

Lincoln county has responded to White Pine’s call to the tune of $588 on account of the little job it did for that county, namely: the hanging of Hank Parish.

Daily Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Mar 25, 1891

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LETTER FROM NEVADA.

Colorado Difficulties — The Nevada Big Mine — Aligold – Bryonic.
[Excerpt]

While Mr. (D.) Turner was sheriff he proved himself of such nerve that desperadoes did not care to face him. In 1890 it became necessary to arrest a fellow named Hank Parish, who had 17 notches on his gunstock. He had left a bloody trail all the way between Arizona and the coast and made brags that he was good for a few more. The record of the murderer was so bad and he was known to be so quick with his gun (in fact, shooting was a pastime with him) that no officer would accompany the sheriff to make the arrest. Hence he went to the cabin of the murderer alone, and getting the drop on him, arrested his man, who in due time was hanged.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Oct 12, 1896

*****

You can read about Hank Parish’s ghost in the following book on Google:

Haunted Nevada By Janice Oberding (page 104)

More on Hank Parish HERE