In Focus Volume 7 No. 1

In Focus Volume 7 No. 1

A Journal of Archaeology, Essays, Fictions, Folklore, Natural History, Native American Culture, Nevada History, Old Photographs, and Poetry.

Churchill County Museum Association

Churchill County Museum Association

1993-1994

Michon Mackendon
Diane Alles
Jane Pieplow
Andrew Russell
Connie Philips Walters
Sally Springmeyer Zanjani
Hilda Cadet Zaugg,

Copyright Churchill County Museum Association

Published Journal, TIF, PDF

English

CHURCHILL COUNTY
IN FOCUS
A Journal of
ARCHAEOLOGY ESSAYS FICTION FOLKLORE NATURAL HISTORY NATIVE AMERICAN
CULTURE NEVADA HISTORY OLD PHOTOGRAPHS POETRY
THE CHURCHILL COUNTY
MUSEUM ASSOCIATION, FALLON, NEVADA
1993-1994
CHURCHILL COUNTY
MUSEUM ASSOCIATION, INC.
BOARD OF TRUSTEES
Elmo Dericco, Chairman
Glen Perazzo, Vice Chairman
Glenda Price, Secretary
Myrl Nygren, Treasurer
Kathy Albiston, Trustee
Harriet Allen, Trustee
Michael Berney, Trustee
Wilva Blue, Trustee
Pat Boden, Trustee
Virgil Getto, Trustee
Don Johnson, Trustee
Cyril Schank, County Commissioner
EDITORIAL POLICY
IN FOCUS solicits articles or photographs of scholarly or popular interest dealing with the history and people of Churchill County and neighboring Nevada regions. Prospective contributors should send their work to the Editor, IN FOCUS, Churchill County Museum & Archives, 1050 South Maine, Fallon, NV 89406. Articles should be typed, double spaced, and sent to the museum. If the article is available on a computer disk, please contact the museum for further instructions. Copyright Churchill County Museum Association, Inc., 1994. Manuscripts and photographs for each annual publication must be received by March 1 for consideration for that year's journal.
Authors of articles accepted for publication will receive three complimentary copies of the Journal.
IN FOCUS is published annually by the Churchill County Museum Association, Inc., a nonprofit Nevada corporation. A complimentary copy of IN FOCUS is sent to all members of the Museum Association.Membership dues are:
Seniors (60+) Student Individual Family
$ 10.00 10.00 15.00 20.00 Wagonmaster Pioneer Homesteader $ 50.00
100.00
200.00+
Membership application and dues should be sent to the Director, Churchill County Museum & Archives, 1050 South Maine Street, Fallon, NV 89406. Copies are also sold through the MUSEUM MERCANTILE shop, located in the Museum, by mail, and at several retail outlets.
The Editors of IN FOCUS and the Churchill County Association disclaim any responsibility for statements, of fact or opinion, made by the contributors.
POSTMASTER: Return postage guaranteed. Send address changes to Churchill County IN FOCUS, 1050 South Maine Street, Fallon, NV 89406.
Cover Photograph: A 4th of July parade heads south on Maine Street about 1908. See related story on the Black & Ferguson store beginning on page 3. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo
Collection, photographer unknown.)
CHURCHILL COUNTY
IN FOCUS
ANNUAL JOURNAL OF THE CHURCHILL COUNTY MUSEUM ASSOCIATION
VOLUME #7 1993-1994 NUMBER # 1
Contents
SOFT FOCUS
The Editors' Comments Michon Mackedon and Jane Pieplow 1
SHADOW CATCHER
Black and Ferguson Carol Cote 3
SHARP FOCUS
County Road Maintenance Firmin Bruner 21
Haylift of 1948-49 Diane Alles Miller 26
Winning the War: 1944 Newspaper Ads Jane Pieplow 35
Williams Station: Catalyst for the Paiute Indian War in 1860 48
Russell P. Armstrong
Hearts of Gold and Hostile Times: Wartime Reactions to the 57
"Japanese Question" in Churchill County Nevada . Andrew B. Russell
NATIVE AMERICAN PERSPECTIVE
A Prayer for Grandmother Author Unknown 87
PIONEER PORTRAITS
Ranch Recollections 1920-1926 G. F. "Kelly" Engle 88
Growing Up In Silver Creek Hilda Cadet Zaugg 102
CREATIVE FOCUS
The Bus at Six Connie Philips Walters 108
Springmeyer's Sanitorium Sally Springmeyer Zanjani 113
SCIENTIFIC PERSPECTIVE
Silver Hill Camp: A Churchill County Historical Site 116
William C. Davis
CONTRIBUTORS 124
SOFT FOCUS
The Editors' Comments
Michon Mackedon
I often give visiting friends or relatives a copy of In Focus. Many of them once lived in Churchill County and recognize a name, remember a face from a photograph, or hear an echo from the past in the sound of a phrase -- "cottonwood tree," "irrigation ditch," "Hearts of Gold," or "Oats Park School." Then the memories come back, questions arise and conversations about Fallon begin anew. They will remember something especially associated with their lives or visits here: quail crossing the road, swimming in Indian Lakes, the smell of Russian olive trees in May.
Those of us who now live in Churchill County would most likely describe its virtues with less sentimental imagery. But we all feel something about our place which keeps us here.
Now, we are engaged in a great struggle to protect whatever the something is that keeps us here -- the seasons and colors, or the sense of community, or the way we earn our livings. The immediate threat may be quantified in terms of water allocations, but it also has to do with American values in a state of crisis. What this place has offered to its people was once part of the American dream: virtue could be suggested in the rural tableau of cottonwood trees and irrigation ditches and country schoolhouses. But populations grow, values (and the language and images we use to express them) change, and what once was part of the American dream (or at least its Jeffersonian half) is now called "wasteful," "outdated," "unrealistic" or worse. So, as the struggle intensifies and the stakes are raised, some of us will be forced to examine the ways in which we define ourselves in terms of place. What is the meaning and the value and the risk in thinking, "This is my valley"?
In Focus is one small way to explore and celebrate our sense of place. Each year as we collect and print the articles, the reminiscences, and the photographs, we build an ever-changing collage of past and present place. We challenge you to add your ideas, your stories, your creative efforts to
1
2 Mackedon
this living, shifting protrait. The 1995 edition has already begun to take shape with nearly-completed essays on The Lincoln Highway and Women Poets of the Valley. We can use budding beginners or experienced authors to work up material on a host of subjects: the 1954 earthquakes; histories of churches, schools, or clubs; the beet sugar factory; the local dairy industry, individuals and families -- you name it.
For, despite the talk of changing times and shifting values, a solid comfort remains in the fact that our place, yet, has many interesting tales to tell.
Jane Pieplow
Production of my second issue of In Focus is now behind me and I can truthfully say it has been a very pleasant experience! The variety in the articles in this issue and the willingness of the authors to allow their work to be published has been an inspiration. I'm also proud of the wonderful photographs that staff members have collected to go with the articles. We could not accomplish this without the generosity of the people in Churchill County who are willing to loan their old photographs for copying.
It has been my experience in the museum field that a publication of this size, coming from a small museum such as ours, is a rarity. In Focus can be produced only with the dedication of the In Focus staff, the approval of the Churchill County Museum Association Board of Trustees and, last but not least, the membership dollars that our many Association members donate every year.
Enjoy Volume 7 of In Focus and be sure to share it with others. Not only does it offer historical articles by talented people, it is an important record of Churchill County's past.
SHADOW CATCHER
Black & Ferguson
and the Photo Postcard
Carol Cote
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
One of the benefits of visiting, or working at, the Churchill County Museum is having the opportunity to study the photograph collection. These photographs tell us not only about our local history, but also about the trends and fashions in photography itself. While looking for views for this issue of In Focus, I came across several postcards marked "Black and Ferguson." What intrigued me about the cards was the obviously local subject matter. Two cards showed views of Fallon's Court House with horses hitched outside (one of the cards was labeled "Lovers' Lane, Fallon, Nevada." Another showed teams of horses "Loaded for Wonder Mines."). At first, I assumed that the phrase "Black and Ferguson" referred
3
4 Carol Cote
to the photographers but as I began to search the museum files, I discovered that Black and Ferguson were the last names of the owners of a stationery store which published and sold the postcards in the early years of this century. Further research brought information on two very interesting women and the history of these popular cards as well.
View cards were published on a regular basis in Europe beginning in 1872, but it took another twenty five years (c. 1897) before photographers in America began experimenting with processes that would reproduce a view onto a card. The artistic reputation of these often "local" postcards was never very good. Noted British photographer, Frank Sutcliff, held a negative opinion of the popular view card, as they were called, and of the tourists who bought them. In an article written for The Photographic News in 1897, he caustically commented, "Why do people buy local views? Because they are offered such exquisite examples of photographic art? No. All the tourist wants is something to remind him of the places he visits
Unfortunately many photographers reflected his thinking and, although they were willing to supplement their incomes selling their negatives to view card companies, they did not want their names used. As a consequence, many fine photographers have gone unrecognized for their work which may be preserved only on view cards held in private or museum collections.
In America, the U.S. Post Office inadvertently aided the growth of the photo postcard when, in 1898, they established a reduced rate for privately printed postcards. The cards were used by businesses as a form of advertising. One side of the card was reserved for the address and postage; the other contained an advertisement. Later the back was divided to allow a hand written message. Rural Free Delivery was also enacted in 1898. By 1906, most delivery routes were established and mail was being delivered on a daily basis to isolated homes and farms. Postage was just a penny for postcards. Communication was now relatively rapid, inexpensive and fun.
In the wake of these postal improvements, many printers began to specialize in postcard production, concentrating on scenes from major cities and popular tourist areas. The ALBERTYPE COMPANY, of Brooklyn, N.Y. catered to small town needs. They used a process termed "albertype," which was the forerunner to the photogravure method. The cards display a characteristic black over green appearance and many were
Black & Ferguson 5
hand colored. The photo postcards featured in this article were printed by the ALBERTYPE COMPANY and were published by BLACK & FERGUSON. The actual photographer or photographers remain unidentified.
The Eastman Kodak Company also took advantage of the booming postcard fad by marketing a postcard size photographic paper on which images could be printed directly from negatives. In addition, processing services were offered which allowed the amateur photographer to order postcards from any negative for just ten cents each. Amateur photographers were enticed by advertisements to turn their negatives into cash: "You can make MONEY on photo postcards from your negatives" read a Multiprint Photographic Company advertisement.
Societal changes also contributed to the rising popularity of the photo postcard. Society had changed from the "straight laced" puritan era to a more relaxed, informal, less inhibited period. Americans were now willing to mail pictures of themselves, sometimes in comical poses, write personal messages on the back of the postcards and drop them in the mail where they could be seen and read by anyone. Many "personal" postcards have been found in family collections with the finder wondering why the photograph had been made into a postcard, not realizing that the personal postcard was a popular fad of the time.
Soon, photo studios at tourist sites began to specialize in postcards that allowed tourists to get into the picture themselves. The new Kodak paper accommodated on-site processing so the tourist could order as many postcards as desired and have them in the mail relatively quickly. Postcard collecting became a popular hobby, and elaborate postcard albums were produced.
The new fad did not escape Fallon. Indeed, the use of these popular cards was alive and well in Fallon when the Churchill County Eagle noted in an article on August 11, 1906, that "several souvenir postal cards were received Wednesday from Manie Sanford at Santa Monica, Calif. A photo on one side shows Manie standing beside a 300 pound fish, 'which he says he caught (?).' Another depicts Manie and Mr. Englebrecht in the surf bathing."
An article published on September 30, 1911, mentioned that "N.R. Fitzpatrick took a picture of a coyote on the Humboldt River and had postcards made of the scene. The animal was only about 100 feet away when the snapshot was taken and stood in the characteristic pose looking
6 Carol Cote
at the party." On December 16, of the same year, the same paper commented that "R.R. Ham has a fine enlarged view of the sugar factory on exhibition in the window of the Fallon Hardware & Supply Co. that he recently took. He also has many postcard views of the factory."
One local publisher and purveyor of these postcard was the BLACK & FERGUSON store, owned by two lady entrepreneurs. Who, or what, inspired this partnership between two such opposite personalities is unknown but on February 16, 1907, Mrs. Callie Ferguson and Mrs. E.W. Black announced that they would open a stationery and book store in the W.W. Williams Post Office building. A circulating library would also be a feature of the establishment, and magazines and periodicals would be sold.
The store served many needs of the community. In addition to maintaining and updating the circulating library, the two owners were agents for the school books used in the county. They stocked gifts and party supplies of all kinds. An advertisement in the newspaper of December 9, 1911, reminded the readers to see Black & Ferguson's display of dolls, toys, and an assortment of fine French candies before purchasing elsewhere. The reader was also reminded of the ball to take place that evening, "There is a great assortment of masks at Black & Ferguson's for the ball tonight. If your face doesn't suit you, call and get a new one." The ladies represented the Eddy Floral Co. of Reno and took orders
for the community's floral Mary Hook Black Roe (left) and Callie Smart
needs. They also established an Ferguson (right) about 1910. (Churchill County
Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
employment agency at the
store where "those seeking
work are put in touch with
Black & Ferguson 7
ranchers needing hands." The ladies appreciated their customers and expressed that appreciation by giving fir boughs at Christmas. The boughs were cut and shipped from the Black's ranch in Nevada City, California. Because it was contiguous to the local post office, Black & Ferguson truly was the meeting place for the community. And, it was a natural place to pick up local postcards.
The selection of views of Fallon chosen by these ladies to be printed as postcards reveals a great deal of pride in their community. They picked images that showed a bustling, growing, hard working community proud of its churches and schools. These images were sold to the traveler but were also purchased by the citizens of the community to be shared with distant family and frienis. Many were also kept in scrapbooks or albums as collectibles.
The personal history of each of these ladies is as interesting as the photographs they published on postcards.
From left to right: Jessie Mable Woodiff, Jessie Irene Woodliff, Callie Ferguson, Edwin Black,
Mary Black, Nate Hardy, Will Danielson and Irving Sanford, Sr. pose for the camera inside
Black & Ferguson's first store. Note the telegraph equipment on the left, the postcard
rack in front of Callie and the post office boxes on the right.
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
Black & Ferguson's second store and post office (left), Williams building (right), after the 1910 fire on Maine Street. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
Callie Smart Ferguson was born January 16, 1859, in Dracutt, Massachusetts. Shortly after her birth, her parents, Sylvester and Mary Pease Smart, began their trek to California. Enroute, their wagon train was attacked by Indians and they lost nearly everything except their lives. They finally arrived in Washoe Valley and there decided to end their journey. Callie attended high school in Virginia City, where her parents were friends of Mr. & Mrs. Sandy Bowers. She remembered being allowed to spend hours reading in the Bowers' elaborately furnished
library. It was with the
encouragement of Mrs. Bowers that she attended Bishop Whitaker's seminary in Reno and upon graduation taught school, first in Washoe Valley and later in
Carol Cote

•
8
Callie Smart Ferguson about 1895.
(Churchill County Museum &
Archives Photo Collection)
Black & Ferguson 9
Wadsworth, La Plata and finally, Fallon. She met her husband, John Ferguson, at the Adventist Church in Fallon. A few years after her marriage, John died, leaving her with a ranch and three stepsons to raise. She sold the ranch and moved to town where she again taught school until 1906.
Callie was appointed deputy postmistress in 1906 and postmistress in 1907. The postal service required her to furnish the postal boxes used by the patrons. Callie had beautiful oak boxes made and installed at a cost to her of $2,000.00. The post office building and the Black & Ferguson store were destroyed during the May 19, 1910, fire on Maine Street. The oak mail boxes were damaged but salvaged by the "brave firefighters." Callie had the boxes repaired and saw both the post office and Black & Ferguson relocated in a newly constructed concrete building near the old location.
Callie' s second store and post office on Maine Street in 1915.
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
On June 15, 1911, Callie received an appointment for another four years as postmistress. She received the document signed by President Taft, which as the newspaper reported, "she will prize as her first appointment, signed by President [Teddy] Roosevelt, burned in the fire." However, on January 20, 1912, Mrs. Ferguson was notified that she would be succeeded by Albert J. Johnson as postmaster. In the newspaper of that date, she placed this notice:
10 Carol Cote
Dear Sir: I understand the report is being circulated in the community that the Honorable L. N. French [who was a judge], J.C. Coniff [the sheriff], and William S. Wall [a lawyer] are responsible for my losing the position of postmistress at this place. I desire to take this means of refuting such statements, as they are entirely untrue. I am very truly yours, Callie B. Ferguson.
No explanation was found during research to indicate just why she was replaced after having received an appointment. Mr. Johnson, who, incidentally, was deputy sheriff before his appointment, assumed his duties on March 2, 1912. He served just one term as postmaster.
Meanwhile, Callie continued to run the BLACK & FERGUSON store, which remained with the post office through several moves, until the post office was moved to the Depp building on Center Street [Elks' Hall] in July of 1921. Instead of moving her store into the Post Office building as originally planned, Callie rented a space in the Hoover and Streeper building on the north east corner of Maine and West Center Streets. By that time, she was no longer associated with Mary Black and changed the name to CENTER STREET NEWSSTAND. Callie continued to operate the business and publish postcards marked C.B. FERGUSON. She worked in her store until she was in her eighties. Her success in business can be attributed, at least in part, to her strict code of ethics which she instilled in
Callie sits on her tall chair waiting for customers. Her store had moved yet again,
this time to West Center Street. The photo was taken in 1939.
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)

Black & Ferguson 11
her newsboys and other employees: "The customer owes you nothing, you owe the customer everything!"
Callie Ferguson died in October, 1947, at the age of eighty eight.
Callie's partner in the BLACK & FERGUSON enterprise, Mary Hook Black, was born December 5, 1859. She was one of seven children of Mr. and Mrs. John F. Hook, pioneer Californians who came west with the Donner Party, fortunately leaving it before their fateful tragedy. They settled in Nevada City, California. Little is known of her childhood and early years, but in 1903 she married Edwin Watson Black and the couple settled in Fallon. Edwin became Justice of the Peace of New River Township in 1904 and served in that capacity for several years. The couple also owned the local mortuary. By all newspaper accounts Judge and Mrs. Black kept a very busy social calendar and entertained frequently.
Mary spoke German fluently and for several years tutored private classes in conversational German. She was prominent in civic affairs and served many years as president of the local July 4th celebration committee. The celebration was a popular event featuring speeches, horse races, games and races for children and a parade (see cover photograph). The celebration concluded with a dance held at the skating rink, which boasted a hardwood floor. The rink was located at [159] East Center Street.
Just nine years after her marriage to Edwin, Mary was widowed when he died [February 1, 1912] from injuries received from a fall out of a window at the Riverside Hotel in Reno. She became full time manager of the mortuary and hired W. F. Kaiser as her assistant. Mary later married Herbert Roe. Mr. W. F. Kaiser became their partner and then sole owner of the mortuary when Mr. and Mrs. Roe retired. [Erb and Dorothy Austin purchased the funeral home from Etta Kaiser on March 15, 1951.]
Mary was widowed again when Herbert died of heart failure in November of 1955. She passed away on July 15, 1958, at age ninety eight.
Perhaps the most interesting observation about these business partners is the different personality each exhibited. At nearly six feet tall, Callie was a no-nonsense, hard working businesswoman. Mary, at a little over five feet, proved to be one of Fallon's most popular hostesses, entertaining large groups of people in her home. While their personal styles differed, both women had good heads for business and were interested in the well being of the community.
12 Carol Cote
Mary was often mentioned in the local papers when it came to social activities of the community. She was praised as a hostess and was always complimented on the decorations in her home, especially the floral arrangements. Mary continued to entertain lavishly into her senior years. In January 1934, at the age of 73, the paper described her annual New Year's Eve party which 12 people had attended:
One of the most attractive yearly events enjoyed by a congenial group of friends, is the New t'ear's party given by Mr. and Mrs. H. E. Roe. This is the fourteenth year Mr. and Mrs. Roe have extended hospitality to their friends.
The long table was beautifully decorated, the color scheme being pink and green. The flowers used were rosebuds and freesias.
After dinner, cards were played and a late supper served in time to greet the new year.
Mary and her husband continued this annual event into her 83rd year. Always on the move, Mary also kept busy visiting relatives and friends in neighboring cities, traveling to San Francisco in 1936 at 76 years of age.
Callie, as Mary's business partner, used her energies in different ways. Involved in community events, she was an original founding member of the local chapter of the Red Cross, working for that organization for many years. It appears that Callie was involved in other business ventures. In 1906, the paper noted that she had purchased an additional two lots in the W.W. Williams addition and, "with her usual enterprise," was to build two modern four-room cottages to rent.
Always a large woman, she grew to nearly 300 pounds and is known to have been kindly toward children but tolerated no nonsense in her store. It must have been well known how hard Callie worked as the January 25, 1936, newspaper stated, "Mrs. Callie Ferguson of the newsstand and store, who seldom gets away from business, accompanied Mrs. J. C. Coniff to Reno Saturday ..."
Her commitment toward business was life long as an article from the January 5, 1944, newspaper indicates, "Mrs. Callie Ferguson is recovering her good health and will soon be able to return to her place at the news stand." She was 85 years old at that time. Even today, Fallon residents remember Callie as a fixture in her store. In her later years, her favorite spot was a large wicker chair in which she sat until a customer required her attention.
Mary and Callie were friends and business partners for many years. Their original collaboration on the picture postcards featured in this article
Black & Ferguson 13
gives us a view of Churchill County's past. These cards also provide us with a glimpse into the popularity of the personal postcard that reached its zenith during the twenties. Reminders of that fad rest in scrap books, museum collections and attics throughout the United States.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Burdick, J.R. Pioneer Postcards. Franklin Square, N.Y.: Nostalgia Press, 1964.
Churchill County Eagle. August 11, 1906
February 16, 1907
September 30, 1911
December 9, 1911
December 16, 1911.
McCulloch, Lou W. Card Photographs, A Guide to Their History and
Value. Exton, Pennsylvania: Schiffer Publishing Co., 1982.
Morgan, Hal and Andreas Brown. Prairie Fires and Paper Moons, The
American Photographic Postcard:1900-1920. Boston: David R. Godine,
1981.
Ryan, Dorothy B. Picture Postcards in the United States 1893-1918.
New York: Clarkson N. Potter, 1982.
14 Carol Cote


(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
Black & Ferguson 15
Note the trees planted along what is now North Maine. Were they originally fence posts?
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)




Maine Street before the 1910 fire. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
16 ---.1Carol Cot6
Maine Street after 1914. The Draper Self-Culture Club water fountain can be seen in the middle of the photograph. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)




(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
Black & Ferguson 17
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)-
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)


18 Carol Cote
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
This Rolly Ross Ham photograph has been retouched by hand. The retouching artist drew in
portions of the background and also the faces of the two Paiute women in the foreground,
giving them Caucasian features. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
Black & Ferguson 19
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
20 Carol Cote


(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
SHARP FOCUS
County Road Maintenance
1922-1924
Firmin Bruner
Ed. Note: Lahontan Valley News stated on April 16, 1984: Bids have gone out for the new maintenance building for the Churchill County Road Department....the new building will provide a facility for the recurring maintenance of small and large county vehicles. The new building, which will encompass approximately 8,400 square, will be located near the current building at 330 North Broadway Street. The building now being used is 1,800 square feet and will be used as a secured storage shed by the sheriff s department." Confusion over the origin of the old shed prompted Firmin Bruner to write the following recollections:
The county road department shop building was brought to Fallon in knocked down condition in about 1920. The mine in Fairview had run out of ore so all the mining facilities owned by the Nevada Hills Mining Company were dismantled and sold, the present county shop building being among them. It was brought to Fallon by the big freight teams owned by J. N. Tedford, the biggest hauling contractor in Fallon. His dock and office were located on the corner lot directly south of the Texaco bulk plant, and it was serviced by a spur track of the Southern Pacific Railroad. Tedford's office manager's name was Esther Lusencamp. With a single horse and buggy she commuted from her home in the Scheckler District on a homestead she had taken up (which is the ranch presently owned by Mrs. Kelly Johnson on Power Line Road). A man named Sullivan had charge of the dismantling and shipping out of the company buildings and equipment and it so happened that he supervised the setting up of the county shop building on a lot where the Fallon Volunteer Fire Department building now stands. He became acquainted with Miss Lusencamp while conducting business with Tedford and they got married. Perhaps some might still remember him because he limped as he walked due to a permanent leg injury.
21
22 Firmin Bruner
Where the county shop now stands [330 North Broadway], the county had a huge gravel bin on railroad wheels and short track so it could be rolled back and forth with boxcar moving jacks. The gravel pit was on railroad company owned ground where the power line to Lovelock crosses the RR, about a mile east of Hazen. The county used a high trestle beside the RR with a double drum electric hoist. Inside a small building on the trestle a train of eleven mine cars tied together were pulled back & forth by the hoist. A tunnel had been dug under a gravel deposit, and, at the bottom of the tunnel, was a snatch block which the back haul cable ran through. There were two loading chutes with raises to the surface. Each trip, half the cars were loaded from each chute. A Swingle Bench rancher, Charles Lehman, had the contract to scrape gravel into the chutes. He used two teams; Galen Fisk and Mike Hart were his teamsters. It took nearly ten hours to load two gondola RR cars. The RR got ten cents per yard for the gravel.
In Fallon the gravel was hauled out to the county roads in county owned belly dump wagons. This was done mostly in the winter months in order to make jobs for the farmers and their horses. Some farmers were able to pay their county taxes with money earned from hauling the gravel. The spreading was done with an old style land leveler. This crudely designed piece of equipment consisted of two long 1" x 12" wooden planks fastened together like a sled. The sides were attached to runners so that the sled could be easily pulled. A third wooden plank was fastened crosswise in the middle of the sled. This plank was adjustable and it could be dropped almost to the bottom of the runners or raised to the top of the sled and secured. Its position was chosen depending on the depth of gravel that needed to be spread on each road.
When chuck holes developed on the gravel roads, sharpened steel pins were clamped with U Bolts to a crossmember near the front of the drag. These pins were used to scarify the surface, and the back cross plank smoothed the loose dirt. The drag was drawn by a FWD truck. Churchill County had two FWD s, two Nash quad trucks and a two ton caterpillar, all World War One surplus, plus, a "White" two ton capacity, flat rack truck. The road supervisor's vehicle was a Ford Model T pickup. Mr. Charles Howard was County Clerk and also Road Supervisor. He received no extra pay as Supervisor. Will Harmon was Churchill County Commissioner. Charles Howard always carried a good supply of old sacks
County Road Maintenance 23
in the pickup which he would put under the wheels for traction when he got stuck in the sand. Driving over the county roads at present, it's hard to envision how sandy and treacherous the roads were at that time. It was important that road signs be maintained at all cross roads because many men walked from town to town looking for work carrying all they possessed on their backs rolled up and tied in their bedrolls. With a limited amount of drinking water on hand, taking the wrong road could have caused great hardships.
In 1924, Elsie Mitchell, Mae Mills and Firmin Bruner pose with a FWD [Four Wheeled Drive]
World War II truck used by Churchill County employees for road maintenance.
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
I'm pretty sure the pull grader that is at the museum is the one we pulled with the caterpillar. Jay Babb was the cat skinner and I was grader man. We threw up the first graded road that extended from the city limits to the foothills south of town.
G. C. Rogers, (uncle to [the late] Melba Boman) was general mechanic and also hoist man at the gravel pit in Hazen. I was the car loader in the tunnel and rode the train of cars in order to dump them. Whit Harmon and Glen Dudley were truck drivers. We all took a hand at pick and shovel work when needed. Outer area road maintenance consisted mostly of pick and shovel work.
24 Firmin Bruner
One day Charles Howard took Rogers and me to Hazen and dropped us off. Equipped with a pick, a shovel, a sledge hammer, our lunches and some drinking water, we were to throw the loose rocks out of the road between Hazen and the Carson River Road. The rocks that were imbedded, we dug out, then refilled the holes with dirt. Those that were too hard to dig out, we knocked the tops off with the sledge hammer. While working along the Truckee Canal we felt hot, so we took a dip. That evening Howard picked us up at the Lahontan Dam.
On one occasion, in 1924, Charles Howard sent Calvin Beeghly and me out to work on the road toward Ione to the Churchill County line at Chalk Wells, also known as Negro Wells, near the head of Lodi Valley. We loaded our bedrolls, camping equipment, food, water, and tools into the back seat of my Chevrolet touring car and took off. Each evening we drove to the nearest water, either West Gate or Mud Springs, when we got through working. At Chalk Well we made a dry camp because the well had caved in. After cooking and eating our supper we would sit and talk beside the campfire, then we would unroll our beds for a peaceful sleep under the stars. We were gone for four days.
When Gold Basin was discovered, my brother, Bingo [Ascargorta] and I worked on the road to there and also in the Mud Springs area. Gold Basin is located on the east slope of Fairview Mountain. The name of Fairview Mountain was originally "Nevada Hill." After the town of Fairview was established people identified the mountain with the town and through common usage it is now known as Fairview Mountain. A top employee of Nevada Hills Mining Company discovered a rich ore body just before the mine shut down but kept it a secret. After the company was disbanded, he got a group of business men in Reno to form a new company. A new hoist and mill were erected and the town took on new life for a time.
In the outer desert areas, the major part of road maintenance was filling chuck holes. These holes developed in the two track roads where traffic was heavy, similar to the way that rough or "corduroy" spots develop in our present day graveled roads. You constantly had to be on the lookout for chuck holes while driving because if you hit one without slowing down it could cause a broken spring, which was a major repair expense in those days. Because shock absorbers were not yet invented, the car would start bouncing and just about buck you out of the car before it quit.
County Road Maintenance 25
In modern times it is hard to visualize how slow traveling was in those days. To illustrate, it was seventy two miles from Phonolite to Fallon and Bill Bruner, the general manager of the Kansas City Nevada Consolidated Mines Company, would make the trip in four hours in the Model T run-a-bout. He thought that it was such good time that he challenged anyone to do it in less time. With a loaded two ton [Federal] truck I would drive from Fallon to Phonolite in eight hours under good weather conditions. The average driving speed with a light car was twenty miles per hour, but because of chuck holes and rocks sticking up it was necessary to slow down to a crawl frequently.
Firmin Bruner stands beside a FWD Churchill County A portion of the road
Road Department truck during 1924. (Churchill County maintenance expense was Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
defrayed by the county
levying a poll or road tax of three dollars per employee per annum at the mining companies. Because the superintendent got a percentage of the tax for collecting it, it was hard for the miners to avoid paying it. If you quit one job and went to work somewhere else, unless you had a receipt showing that you had already paid, you were stuck for another three dollars.
The Haylift of 1948-49
Diane Alles Miller
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
The National Weather Bureau saw many records broken that winter of 1949. A blizzard originating in Alaska's Yukon Valley swept across Canada and descended upon the northern Midwest states. On the Great Plains and in the mountains, it began snowing on November 18, 1948, and snow fell almost constantly until the middle of February, 1949. The snow was three feet deep on the flatland but had drifted into giant drifts that covered houses to the rooftops. In many areas of the country, snow removal equipment worked to clear the highway just to have the snow blown back onto it by the blustering wind. A deep blanket covered the land from Nebraska to Nevada, while in Boston, the crocus bloomed.
26
The Haylift of 1948-49 27
Many horror stories came out of this terrible winter. A family, trapped in their car, tried to stay warm by kindling a fire in a hub cap, but ran out of items to burn and were found frozen to death within one mile of their home. Furniture and fence posts were burned when the firewood was gone. People ran out of food and when rescued, the children and babies were weeping from hunger. Livestock owners brought young calves and sheep into their homes just to keep them alive. Outside, cattle braced themselves against the wind and the cold, and froze to death in a standing position, as ice formed around their nostrils, smothering them.
The people of the midwest were ready for their annual grim winter -- a winter in which a person could get lost between the barn and the house, and freeze to death in an hour. But Nevadans were caught off guard by the worst winter in the twentieth century. Roads and highways were blocked by twenty-foot snow drifts. Vehicles could not get through, and out on the snow-covered ranges of eastern Nevada an estimated $8,000,000.00 worth of livestock was in danger of starving to death. Approximately 45,000 cattle and 165,000 head of sheep were marooned and at the mercy of the cold and snow. The livestock could huddle together for warmth, but could do nothing about their hunger. Ordinarily, the stockmen could take a severe winter even if it meant severe losses to their livestock. What worried the cattlemen and sheepmen this year was that the states of Colorado, Wyoming, and Nebraska were suffering with the same weather -- and in chance of losing much of their livestock as well. It is from these states that the Nevada stockmen would usually get their replacements for the animals lost on the Nevada rangeland. That is why the 1949 situation took on the aspect of an emergency. What was lost in livestock then could not be replaced for several years.
Ranchers in eastern Nevada began to panic as the snow got deeper and deeper, and the animals became trapped as they floundered in snowdrifts. The ranchers were powerless to get the much-needed feed to their herds. By January 15, 1949, the snow had closed many roads, and the high winds common to Nevada whipped the snow over the rangeland. The counties of Lander, White Pine and Lincoln were the hardest hit by the snow and scarcity of feed.
As the plight of the stranded livestock become increasingly acute, a state of emergency was declared and the military was called in to try to help save the animals. The U.S. Air force and Army responded quickly to the call for help when it was issued, and the nationally spotlighted
28 Diane Alles Miller
United States Air Force C-82 "Flying Boxcar" being loaded with alfalfa hay at Naval Auxiliary Air Station Fallon. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
"operation haylift" went into action. Ranchers believed that the feed lift was their only hope of saving the livestock, even though many legislators blamed the stockmen for having left their stock out on the range longer than they should have.
Large quantities of hay were to be transported from Churchill and Lyon counties to eastern Nevada. To facilitate this transport, the U.S. Air Force brought many C-82 "flying boxcars" to the Naval
Auxiliary Air Station in Fallon, from the military's Pacific Coast peacetime bases. The C-82's were to shuttle hay from Fallon to Ely's Yelland Field, where the hay would then be taken to the stranded animals. The "flying boxcars" were large cargo airplanes that could transport approximately 9,000 pounds of hay apiece. Trucks transported the baled hay from Yerington and Smith Valley, as well as from ranches around Fallon to the Naval Air Base. Both federal and state money was used to fund this operation.
The pilots that were to fly the boxcars were veterans of cargo hauling operations in ice-bound Alaska. The crew of the planes consisted of the pilot, co-pilot, navigator, and crew chief. Additionally, two volunteers were needed to shove the bales out of the door once the livestock was spotted; the fellows that did this job became known as "droppers."
The "flying boxcars" were loaded with baled hay in Fallon and flew to Yelland Field in Ely. Ranchers and others familiar with the rough terrain got on board in Ely. The planes flew over the range while those on board searched the area below for herds of cattle or sheep. As herds of stranded livestock were sighted, the pilot dipped the plane low so the volunteers could shove the bales of hay out and down to the starving animals. The late Elmer Huckaby remembered how hard it was to shove the bales out and how rough the plane ride was in an article that he wrote in The Fallon Eagle, February 12, 1949: "... the red light is on telling us to get ready to throw the bales out, then the green light, a struggle to get the bales out as the wind pressure slams them into the door sill. Then -- 000h -- the climb,
The Haylift of 1948-49 29
the bank and the tail flopping again. Three passes at the target and I say to my Army helper, 'Hey, put this rope on you, I'm going to heave."
The pilots and the crewmen soon settled into a routine: Fly to Fallon, load the bales of hay, fly to Ely and pick up a rancher who knows the approximate location of his herds, fly out to the livestock, kick out the bales, fly back to Ely to drop off the rancher, fly back to Fallon and load hay again. All in a day's work.
To save time during the dropping phase, the cargo planes borrowed a bombing technique used during World War II in Europe. A "lead" plane would land at Ely's Yelland Field to pick up a rancher to act as guide. With the rancher guiding the lead plane to where the livestock was stranded, the other planes would follow and drop their hay to the sheep and cattle that were marooned. As more experience was gained in this hay bombing technique, the ranchers and crewmen reported improved accuracy. Everyone involved agreed that the hay landed near enough the hungry animals that they could get to it to feed.
"Operation haylift" was well organized, and took the cooperation of all of the different groups involved: the ranchers who were trying to save their animals; the farmers who had surplus hay to sell; the army and the air force; the Fallon Chamber of Commerce; and all of the volunteers who helped out. Cooperation among all of those involved was said to have been outstanding. The "haylift" brought forth a spirit of cooperation among Churchill County residents, and those of many surrounding communities as well. Col. Adriel Williams, commanding officer of the 62nd Troop Carrier Group, requested the Churchill County Chamber of Commerce to recruit 32 volunteers daily to help in the unloading portion of the operation. Local volunteers also did the loading of the planes at the Fallon base. Williams stated that "the volunteers have been indispensable in making this operation successful."
Fallon resident, Bob Walker, had these recollections of the haylift: "I was a student at the University of Nevada, Reno, during 1949. A couple of friends and I heard that the haylift operation needed help in dropping hay. I remember it being very cold. Ken Fox, Enfield Bell, and myself decided to volunteer, and came down to Fallon on a lark, for something to do. We stayed with my mother, Mary Foster, on a Friday night, and got up the next morning and went out to the base. We had to sign a release of liability of some kind. The plane was already loaded, but we had to wait about two hours before we took off. We got on the plane, having to ride in the cargo
30 Diane Alles Miller
portion of the craft. It was so cold in the back, we were not properly dressed for the arctic type temperature. The crew was very sympathetic to our plight in the back; they let one volunteer at a time go into the cockpit for about 20 minutes each to get warm. The plane we were on was to drop hay in the Eureka vicinity. The plane got to Eureka and a herd of cattle was located. One of the military personnel that was on the plane opened up the cargo doors, as we volunteers tied ropes around our waists. These ropes were tied to somewhere in the plane, and to keep us from falling out of the big cargo door as we kicked out the hay. The hay bales were stacked, and with hay hooks my friends and I pulled the bales to within three feet of the opening. Then we got behind the bales and shoved or kicked them out of the door when one of the crew members told us it was time to drop the hay, down to the cattle below. The bales of hay burst open as they hit the ground. The cattle were belly deep in snow, but were able to get over to the broken hay bales to eat. It was a lot colder when that cargo door was open, but pushing the bales out only took about 30 minutes. The pilot of the plane was able to take the plane to within a couple of hundred feet above the ground, as we made passes over the herd. The round trip took us approximately four hours to complete. When we got back to Fallon, Ken and Enfield and myself discussed whether we would want to go out on another excursion, and we decided that we would volunteer again the next day. My mother had cooked a standing rib roast for dinner that Saturday night, but we were so hungry, and that roast
Hay bales being dropped from a "Flying Boxcar" at Spring Valley, Nevada, February 1949.
Local cowboys and cattle anxiously watch as "dinner" falls from the sky.
(Eastern Nevada Historic Photo Archives Photo)
The Haylift of 1948-49 31
smelled so good that we cut big slabs of it and made sandwiches out of the whole roast. I was never so cold in my whole life as I was on that day."
Volunteer Elmer Huckaby had some good advice for those who thought they might want to volunteer to be a "dropper": "1. Do not eat anything greasy; 2. Get a pair of goggles; 3. Wear rubber soled shoes or overshoes; 4. Wear a light pair of leather gloves so as you can get your fingers under the bales ties; and don't drink."
Even with all that was being done, in February it turned out not to be enough. More snow had fallen and the gale force winds continued. It was 20 degrees below zero in Ely and 10 to 15 degrees lower in the areas where the livestock was in trouble. Storms set back operations and each storm made matters worse for the livestock. The cold weather played havoc with the planes, and the air force never knew "when they cranked a plane up, whether something would break or whether the engines would work O.K." To continue movement of hay to Eastern Nevada, trucks began hauling hay from the western part of the state to the east. Approximately 100 tons of hay was to be moved each day by truck to supplement the air movement. After the trucks arrived in Ely, they were used to transport the feed to various ranches in the area. Possibly one of the most essential emergency activities in connection with the isolated people in eastern Nevada was performed by the Nevada and California National Guard units and colored soldiers of the United States Army that came up from Oakland, California. These groups would convoy in trucks loaded to capacity to the semi-isolated regions, following the highway department equipment that was clearing the way. Hundreds of tons of hay were sent out to the distressed ranchers in this fashion.
But soon, with the continued snowfall, Highway 50 between Austin and Ely became impassable. Several trucks stalled and others were routed by way of Tonopah. The State Highway department crew worked long and hard in below zero weather to clear the roads; the Army sent in bulldozers, graders, and snowplows, and within one week, 9,000 miles of snow-bound roads were reopened. On February 7, 1949, the flying boxcars were stranded in Fallon because of the storms. As trucks were having a hard time getting through the passes, steps were taken to move the hay by rail. The rail trip took 24 hours and went by way of Cobre Junction in Elko County. Transporting the hay by rail was twice as expensive as by truck, but the animals needed the feed. The need for hay in the Ely, Eureka, Wells, and Pioche areas had drained all of the surplus hay from Churchill
32 Diane Alles Miller
County. Only enough hay was saved to meet the needs of the Churchill County ranchers for the rest of the feeding season. Steps were taken locally to keep the price of hay at the $30/ton mark, as it was felt that Ely ranchers were being penalized severely enough by the emergency.
During the third week of February, after several successful weeks of operation, the haylift was ended. After the snow subsided, the ranchers began to go out into the snow covered areas, pushing through the drifts to get to their animals. As the snow began to melt, the battle was to keep the livestock alive until spring. Many ranchers felt that they had or would lose up to 50% of their herd. The animals had become weakened and many would perish in the cold weather, even though the feed had reached them.
It has never been determined just how many animals were lost that season; the carcasses were counted after the melt--but some were never found. In any case, the winter of '49 was one of the worst on record, its storms having caused more hardship over a larger area than the U.S. had ever known. The airlift was more successful for feeding sheep than cattle, as the sheep huddled together in bands, whereas the cattle scattered through the desert and foothills. The livestock was not the only group of animals suffering that winter. Wildlife suffered greatly, with the estimate that 50% of the deer would be lost in some areas of the state. Ducks and geese were starving too, as the ponds and lakes were frozen over. Fallon ranchers fed the ducks and geese to try to keep them alive. Fallon resident, Dan Hettinger, remembers his role in feeding the water fowl in White Pine County: "When I heard about the haylift, I told my dad that I sure would like to volunteer. There was only one problem, though, I was not old enough -- I was only 16 years old at the time. When Dad learned how much I wanted to go, he talked to someone in charge, and after signing a release of some kind, Dad was able to get me aboard one of the cargo planes. I borrowed a leather flight suit that was lined with sheep's wool, but it was still a bit nippy. I wrapped my feet in burlap sacks to help keep them warm. When the plane got to Ely, the other volunteer and myself were told to put sacks of grain on the conveyor belt that was set up inside the cargo plane. As the pilot took the plane down and sort of sloped it, a sack of grain would shoot out of the cargo door. When the sacks hit the ice, they burst open and the grain scattered for a good ways. As the birds gathered around the grain to eat, the pilot took the plane farther down the frozen lake and the next sack of grain would shoot out of the door. We had to keep moving away from the grain that we had already dropped, so that
The Haylift of 1948-49 33
the next sack of feed would not hit a bird and kill it. The whole trip took about five hours, and I went only once. This was the first plane trip of my life, and I enjoyed myself, plus I was able to help the birds."
The role of the air force and army in Operation Haylift was essential to its success. Col. Adriel Williams reported that planes from the 62nd and the 316th air carriers group were in the air a total of 26 out of 27 days. The cargo planes carried more than 1800 tons of hay to an estimated 300,000 head of sheep and cattle in the eastern part of the state, for a total of 270,000 air miles--a distance of ten times around the world. Rescuers were surprised to find that the victims of the storms had gotten along well despite it all; many men had gone out in the storm to minister to their herds, disregarding their own safety.
The efforts of the army, air force and all of the volunteers were hailed throughout the nation, the most grateful praise coming from the ranchers who had faced serious losses if the emergency had not been met. "Operation Haylift" was covered by the national and west coast press, radio, and motion picture representatives. Hollywood descended upon Ely in January of 1950 and filmed for two weeks, using hundreds of locals as extras in the movie titled "Operation Haylift." There was one thing missing from the movie, though, that being the snow that had blanketed the region the previous year. And although the cold and snow had caused many a hardship on human and animal life, it could also be viewed as a blessing, for the snow brought the much needed moisture to the parched range and replenished water tables which had reached very low levels.
34 Diane Alles Miller
Bibliography
Ely Daily Times. October 31, 1983.
Fallon Eagle. January 29, 1949
February 12, 1949
February 19, 1949.
Fallon Standard. January 26, 1949 February 2, 1949 February 9, 1949 February 16, 1949
March 2, 1949.
Lahontan Valley News/Fallon Eagle Standard.
February 3, 1994
February 7, 1994.
Life Magazine. January 17, 1949
February 7, 1949
February 14, 1949.
Nevada Highways and Parks. October - December 1949. Nevada State Journal. January 26, 1969.
Winning the War: 1944 Newspaper Ads
Jane Pieplow
Fifty years ago Churchill County residents, like millions of other Americans, were doing their share for the war effort. The Fallon Standard, one of Fallon's two local papers, was peppered with articles concerning young Churchill County men who were fighting overseas as well as carrying the headline reports of the war.
Nationally, the campaign to concentrate America's might and mind on the war effort was orchestrated from the Office of War Information in Washington, D.C. The federal government called on artists throughout the nation to join in the work of gaining public support. Artists both unknown and known - Norman Rockwell, Thomas Hart Benton and Ben Shahn among others - put their imaginations to work to create compelling posters that showed the country's patriotic resolve.
The posters stressed themes of sacrifice, heroism and the united will that was required to carry the nation to victory. Placed in schools, hospitals, factories and canteens, war propaganda helped join the nation in its struggle against the enemy. Often asking Americans to buy war bonds, conserve resources, work in the munitions industry or to honor our heros, the underlying message was clear. As the forces of fascism engulfed the globe, only our shared work could defeat the Axis powers.
Many of these posters use imagery familiar to us today: Rosie the Riveter, caricatures of Hitler or images of Uncle Sam. On a smaller scale, newspaper ads used these themes as well, unifying the overall mission of the war campaign. Each national advertisement, often sponsored by a local merchant, is the result of scores of rough renderings and proposed ideas submitted to War Information designers for their approval.
For most people, however, what mattered most to them was what affect the war had on their day-to-day lives. This article reprints advertisements that appeared in some of the 1944 issues of The Fallon
35
36 Jane Pieplow
Standard, one of the county's two newspapers.
Mr. Schmitt Is Lucky
To Escape
(Reese River Reveille)
NEVADA has had an enlighten-
ing demonstration of the inane policy of the O.P.A. and its bureaucrats, which seeks to apply a uniform and inflexible system of rationing to the entire country, and the insincerity of the state food administration which it has ostensibly set up.
It will be impossible for the District O.P.A. head at San Francisco, who called for and received the resignation of the O.P.A. director for the State of Nevada, to make anyone in this state believe that Leo F. Schmitt ever did anything as such director which in any way justified such action. His previous record as an administrator is too outstanding and too well known to everybody for any such nonsense to gain the slightest credence. The incident is simply an enlightening demonstration of the utter incompetance of the whole O.P.A. outfit, which Leon Henderson bungled from the beginning. We have not the slightest objection to an office of Price Administration, nor to a national system of rationing, and would not have if the rationing restrictions were twice as severe as they are. We went through the last war in England and we know what serious rationing really is. We ask only that it be intelligently conceived and administered.
Anyone with the slightest fitness for administrative duties knows that the conditions of life in Nevada are entirely different from those in most states and that regulations which might fit the lower east side of New York, with more people in half a dozen blocks than we have in the whole state, are wholly inapplicable to our sparsely settled districts.
A State administration supposedly is for the purpose of recognizing these conditions and meeting them as far as possible, within the cadre of the purposes of the law, and must have a certain degree of discretion so to do.
This is what Leo Schmitt understood to be his duty, and he did it exceptionally well, and the O.P.A. fired him. We can only commiserate the American people who are in the grasp of a bureaucracy whose lack of brains and commonsense is again so plainly demonstrated. As for Mr. Schmitt he is to escape from an impossible position. Nevada is proud of him.
It is obvious in this editorial, reprinted from the Reese River Reveille in Austin, Nevada, that, much like today, Nevadans realized their sparsely populated, far western state was very different from the crowded states of the east. The Office of Price Administration (O.P.A.) was set up by the federal government to keep the prices of consumer goods under control during wartime. Each state had an O.P.A. office that made sure that proper pricing and rationing procedures were followed. In January of 1944, the O.P.A. asked for the resignation of Nevada's director, Mr. Leo
Winning the War 37
Schmidt. It is interesting to note the strong feeling of individuality and uniqueness that come across in this article, penned by an angry Nevadan. It's a feeling still prevalent in the state today.
RATION
Calendar
Gasoline
stamps No. 9 for three gallons
until January 21.
Shoes
Stamp No. 18 in war ration book 1 is good for one pair of shoes for an indefinite period. Stamp No. 1 on Airplane sheet in book 3 good for one pair.
Canned Goods
Green stamps, D, E, and F in book
4 good through January 20.
Green stamps G. H and J in book
4 good through February 20.
Sugar
Stamp No. 29 in book 4 will be used for 5 lbs. of sugar beginning November 1 and lasting through January 15.
Meat
Book 3, brown stamps R and S and T'good through January 29.
Stamp U valid on Jan. 16 and good through Jan. 29. Spare stamp 2 in book 4 good for 5 points fresh pork and all sausage through January 15.
Tire Inspections—
C hook holders, February 29, 1944. B book holders, February 29, 1944. A book holders, Mar. 31, 1944.
Points for Grease
For every pound of grease a housewife turns in she will receive two brown points beginning Dec. 13.
Printing of the "Ration Calendar" was a weekly occurrence during the war. Everyone was asked to conserve and recycle and to consume more unrationed items than those that were rationed.
38 Jane Pieplow
"Victory Gardens", as the common garden was called during the war years, were a mainstay for many families. Here, the Fallon Mercantile Co. hawks its flower seeds while urging people to grow "Flowers for Morale" and "Vegetables for Victory".
Saving kitchen grease was a way women could contribute to the war effort. The grease was turned into glycerine to make machine gun bullets and other ammunition. In this ad, (see following page) sponsored by a petroleum company, all the elements of patriotic propaganda are included in the first two paragraphs - the need for sacrifice and the need to put up a united front against foreign enemies in the war. This ad was quite likely distributed from the Office of War Information, not created locally.
Winning the War 39
Here's 18 More Bullets for Jimmy to Use!
Jimmy's "Mom" has never seen a 50-calibre machine gun bullet, would hesitate to touch one. But her boy has gone to war. He and his buddies need such things, and used-up kitchen fats supply glycerine to make them. So she saves every drop, and turns it in the day the can is filled. She has never let Jimmy down and never will. Though thoughts of what may happen disturb her she wastes no time in vain self-pity.
She doesn't like war but realizes that tyrants must be crushed. In the good American spirit that built this land, she's in the fight beside her boy—and yours—not just saving fat and paper but helping in every other way she can. She, and millions like her, are speeding Victory for the forces of freedom and decency. She's a Citizen Soldier!
Let's All Be CITIZEN SOLDIERS
A pound of kitchen fats supplies glycerine enough for the powder in 18 50-calibre machine gun shells. Three weeks after you turn in your fat, that ammunition will be oh its way to the battle fronts. It's one way every household can back up our armed forces. There are dozens of other ways equally essential in which individuals can be Citizen Soldiers, as blood donors, nurse's
aides, Red Cross workers, volunteers in Civilian Defense, Canteen workers, Port Security Force, conservation, salvage, harvesting, victory shifts in war plants. The most we can do is the least we should do for our fighting forces. Enlist, as a Citizen Soldier.
War Needs are Growing
Requirements of petroleum products for war are still increasing, particularly in the \Vest. The quantity and quality left available for civilian use face further reductions, which we know that you will understand and gladly accept, for Victory. We, of Tide Water Associated Oil Company, look forward to the day when we may serve you even better than we did before the war ... in the meantime we are still increasing war production of 100-octane gasoline, and fuels and lubricants for the Army, Navy, essential war industries and agriculture.
40 Jane Pieplow
How the Federated Stores of Fallon obtained hard-to-get merchandise is unclear, but the use of those words in the headline must have been a real attention-getter. Even though the headline touts buying, the bottom of the ad asks people to examine the need for every item they planned to buy, urging them to buy war bonds if they could do without an item - not a common practice in today's highly consumable society!
Some of the Every-Day
Hard-to-Get
Merchandise
You Can Buy Every Day At
FEDERATED
We have complete stocks in many of
these hard-to-get items such as . . .
.Men's Bib Overalls Blankets of all Kinds
Men's Work Jackets Unbleached Sheeting Men's Overall Jackets Bleached Sheeting
Men's Union Suits Cheesecloth
Wool and Cotton Work Prints
Socks Sharkskins
Sweat Shirts Synthetic Flannel
Work Shirts Muslin
Khaki Shirts Towels
Khaki Pants Bath Towels, fancy col-Peters Work Shoes for ors and white
Men Rayon Panties and
Shoes for Men, Women Bloomers
and Children Rayon Slips
DON'T BUY
Unless you need them. BUY WAR BONDS in-stead—But if you actually need any of these' items we can supply you while our stock lasts.
FEDERATED STORES
FALLON
Winning the War 41
Women, food shoppers and preparers in most households, were constantly bombarded with tips and ideas on how to cook more flavorful meals without abusing the ration system. The Fallon Meat Company notes it carries "delightful substitutes" for meat cuts that were too dear to splurge on very often.
Safeway, the only chain grocery store in Fallon, printed ads almost daily throughout the year of 1944. The chain used the services of nationally known homemaking expert Julia Lee Wright, whose tips for cooking "old-fashioned" recipes included those which used only small amounts of precious rationed ingredients. In addition to listing prices on food stuffs, Safeway also mounted a subtle campaign that not only helped the war effort but changed the way people thought of shopping as well. Every ad included a cartoon strip that featured an average American family and their wartime problems. Many times the "problem" people faced was buying food on a strict wartime budget. In many of the cartoon strips the solution to this dilemma was one-stop shopping at Safeway. This shopping concept, common today, was fairly new in 1944. Over time it also contributed to the reduction of neighborhood corner stores and the personalized service this type of shopping produced. The other overarching theme in Safeway' s cartoons was that of saving money, something a large chain store could accomplish much more easily than a small corner grocery store.
42 Jane Pieplow
NOW that we're starting out on a new year, it's not a bad idea to look back at some of the simple things our"foremothers" used to bake. Meat pies — apple pandowdies — hearty dishes of that good old-fashioned stripe. (And there are ways to get along with much less shortening than in many a "modern" recipe!)
How long since you've tried making a meat pie with biscuits instead of crust, for example?
Curry Biscuits for Meat Pie
1 cup enriched .2 tbsps. chilled
flour shortening
11/2 tsps. baking 1/4 to 1/3 cup milk
powder 1/4 tsp. salt
% tsp. curry
powder
Sift flour, measure, add baking
der, salt and curry powder, and sift again. Add shortening, in small pieces, to flour and cdt in until mixture is fine. Add milk. stir until flour is dampened. Knead 15 times on lightly floured board, roll to 3/8-in. thickness. Cut with 1 3/4-in. biscuit cutter and place on hot stew. Bake in hot oven (425° F.) 25 mins. or until done.
An interesting variation is to cut the biscuit dough in the shape of doughnuts, which lets the stew bubble up through the inner circles
good? It tastes good!
And for dessert, how my family enjoyed old-fashioned apply pan- dowdy! (I wasn't at all sorry to see that, because it uses just about onc-quarter as much shortening as pie!
Apple Pandowdy
5 cups thinly 1/8 tsp. nutmeg
sliced apples 11/2 tsps. lemon
1/2 cup sugar juice
1/4 tsp. salt 2 tbsps. water
1/4 tsp. cinnamon 1/4 tsp. grated
lemon rind
Combine apples, sugar, salt, spices, lemon juice, water and rind. Turn into pan (8 x 8 x 2); cover and bake in hot oven (450° F.) 20 mins. Mix 2 cups standard biscuit dough, adding 1 tbsp. sugar to flour mixture. Knead gently 8 times, shape and roll into square (8 x 8). Fit dough over apples in pan, cut slits to let steam escape, and return to.hot oven (450° F.). Bake 25 mins. or until crust is browned. Serve warm with cream or plain. Makes 8 servings.
I wish there were room to tell you about some of the other recipes of 'this kind I've been trying recently. If you're interested, why don't you look at my article on "Pioneer Recipes" in this week's issue of The Family Circle? Get a copy at your Safeway Store.


Director
Safeway Homemakers' Bureau
Winning the War 43
44 Jane Pieplow
Saving money and putting it into war bonds was perhaps one of the biggest wartime campaigns. By purchasing war bonds, every citizen could help do their share to fight the war. Many war bond drives were initiated, often supported by celebrities who visited America's cities and towns raising money for the war. Local Fallon merchants sponsored advertisements that were issued nationally by the U.S. Treasury to get citizens to "back the attack."

REALLY DOING THE BEST YOU CAN, TOO
Winning the War 45
46 Jane Pieplow
Some advertisements offered services that were not necessarily war related, but ad copy still managed to stretch the connection. Here, The Shell Oil Company admonishes people to have their cars serviced more often as wartime gas rationing resulted in shorter trips and more engine wear and tear.
Winning theWar 47
The Fallon Standard contributed this ad as a free service. The federal government urged all households who had a male in the service to show Star Cards in their windows, another way every citizen could show their support for the war. Notice that the Star Cards were offered free of charge.
Williams Station: Catalyst for the
Paiute Indian War in 1860
Russell P. Armstrong
Williams Station is a location of major historical significance along the California Trail. Perhaps because of its physical obscurity today, it has also remained historically obscured. During years of normal precipitation, its ruins are submerged under several feet of the waters of Lake Lahontan. That manmade Lake has been in existence since the construction of the Lahontan Dam by the Bureau of Reclamation, circa 1905.
1992 was the final year of a six year drought for the region. As a result of that drought, the water level receded, and, once again, availed the Station's ruins to the discerning eye.
Historically, the Station served as a way station on the Carson River Route of the California Trail.(1) It sat on the north bank of the Carson River, about one and a half miles west of a terrain feature of the riverbank known as "The Narrows." Williams Station is nearly midpoint on that dusty Trail, between Ragtown Station to the east and Buckland's Station to the west. For the weary traveler, that 20 mile stretch was about the maximum that he and his tired animals cared to or were able to cover in a day.
48
Williams Station 49
From Roughing It by Mark Twain
Photo at left: Taken about 191S, before Lake Lahontan covered the station. By Mark
Twain' s description, this would have been the Overland Stage Building.
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
50 Russell P. Armstrong
The Williams Station's launch into history (and its demise) occurred in early May, 1860:
... Two young girls had not returned to camp from a day looking for roots. Their parents had searched way beyond Pyramid Lake and ... found trails which led up to the ... traders named Williams. They talked to these white men, who ran a combination grog shop and trading station on a knoll above the Carson River and about sixty miles northeast of Virginia City, but these three brothers from Maine said that they had not seen the girls. They even invited the parents into their log house to look around ...
On his way home to Pyramid Lake, a Paiute hunter stopped at Williams Station. The men who were there fancied his pony and spoke to him of a trade. For his fine pony, they were willing to give "a gun, five cans of powder, five boxes of caps, and five bars of lead." The hunter considered this a fair exchange and let the men take his pony into their barn. Then they handed him the caps and powder, but refused to give him the five bars of lead.
Not wishing to make this kind of trade, the Paiute handed back the caps and powder and walked to the barn to get his pony. At once, the station keepers set their dog after him. Before the hunter could stop the animal, the dog sank his teeth into his leg. He yelled from the pain, and the traders laughed. But more than pain and laughter greeted him. For as he kicked the dog away, he heard the muffled voices of Paiute children coming from beneath the barn floor. The warrior quickly mounted his pony, dashed by the whites, who tried to stop him, and rode rapidly to Pyramid Lake.(2)
A nine man war party, led by Mo-guan-no-ga, Chief of the Humboldt Meadows and known as "Captain Soo" to the whites, departed Pyramid Lake for Williams Station.(3)
As they approached the log cabin, they were met outside by four white men, who kept talking and talking ... One of the four broke and ran upstream, but was brought back by mounted warriors. Another panicked, ran toward, and plunged into the cold waters of the Carson River. Flailing, he was taken under repeatedly. Downstream he swirled in an eddy, where warriors retrieved his body. They returned to the Station and dropped him over a log, much like one would do with a carcass. This act caused another to pull his knife to attack the war party. He was subdued by having his knife wielding arm twisted behind and above him until it broke. Wrestling, he was choked until his eyes bulged from his head. When their time came, the other two were killed immediately. (4)
Williams Station 51
After finding the two girls, the Indians were sorry they had so quickly brought about the deaths of the four white men. While the Station was burning, they walked to the River, where their horses were picketed, and made camp. There they stayed until the next morning's first light, before returning to Pyramid Lake.(5)
The owner of the Station, J. 0. Williams, had been camping and fishing a few miles upstream on that fateful evening, thus did not become one of its casualties. Returning the next day, he found the havoc and carnage, and set off to Carson City to "sound the alarm." There is a disparity among historians as to how many, three, four, or even five, had died at the Station. Thompson & West give their identification as: Oscar Williams, a married man, aged 33, a native of Maine; David Williams, a single man, aged 22, a native of Maine (both were brothers of the owner); Samuel Sullivan, a married man, aged 25 years, a native of New York; John Flemming, a single man, aged 25 years, a native of New York; and "Dutch Phil," name, age, and residence unknown.(6)
Animosities between the white man and red man had been building in the Territory for some time. The Williams Station incident was simply the necessary catalyst to the war. The Paiutes did not perceive property ownership the same as did the whites. For them it was impractical to possess more than your immediate needs. An unattended cow or perhaps a horse were there for the taking if you needed it. A staple of the Paiutes' diet was the pine nut, seasonally taken from the pinon pine and cached to last throughout the following year. The whites were remaining in, or returning to, Nevada Territory for the mining of gold and silver. All of the larger trees were being cut and used as shoring in the mineshafts, while smaller ones were clear cut as firewood for heating and cooking and the making of charcoal for kilns. The Indians were witnessing the destruction of their "orchards" and the killing off of their wild game.
Some eight whites had, by this time, been killed, allegedly by the Paiutes (while no statistics are available for numbers of dead Paiutes). One of those eight was Peter Lassen,(7) who privately aspired to supplant the accomplishments of John Sutter, founder and owner of Sutter's Fort, in the middle of California's gold rush country.(8)
Because of the Williams Station incident, the "Paiute Indian War of 1860" was now a certainty! A group of 105 volunteers-cum-vigilantes gathered in Carson City under one "Major" Ormsby to seek out the Paiutes and avenge the killings. Ormsby was not an Army officer at all, but a
52 Russell P. Armstrong
hostler who plied his vocation, appropriately enough, at the Ormsby House, in Carson City. A descendant establishment, featuring a hotel and casino, and displaying a model of the original, still bears that name today. (As of this writing, it has been closed, foreclosed upon by its lender bank, under bankruptcy laws.) A county (now consolidated with Carson City) used to bear Ormsby's name.
Thompson & West [1881] describes Ormsby's band: What they lacked most was discipline, and a leader in whom they had entire confidence, and who had authority to enforce his commands. In the absence of these last two essentials, it would have been better had they all been cowards. Many started on the expedition with the watchword of "An Indian for breakfast and a pony to ride," contemplating the pleasure of sacking Pah Ute villages, capturing their squaws and ponies, killing a few warriors, and running the balance out of the country. (9)
Arriving at Williams Station on the 10th of May, they buried three of the bodies and camped for the night.(10) Major Ormsby would, two days later, lead his "militia" up a deep, narrow, blind canyon on the Truckee River (where it empties into Pyramid Lake) and into an ambush, sprung upon them by the waiting Paiutes. Nearly all were killed, including Ormsby. The few survivors that escaped, secretively and mostly on foot, returned to Carson City with the news of their defeat.
The events at Williams Station and then at Pyramid Lake, led to the arrival, the next month, of a Regular Army detachment under the command of Captain Stewart (and reinforced by Col. Jack Hayes and his volunteers).(11) They engaged with and defeated the Paiutes halfway between Ormsby's battleground and the elbow of the Truckee River, not far from that River's route of the California Trail. The Paiute Indian War was then all but concluded.
The Indian trouble, however, was used as justification for the construction, by the U.S. Army, of Fort Churchill, Nevada Territory. The Fort was built astride the California Trail, upstream of the Carson River some 20 plus miles from the former Williams Station. Because of the Fort, the adjacent Buckland's Station owned by Samuel Buckland, lost much of its significance, including its use as a Pony Express Station. A political theory for the Fort's construction, although not widely acclaimed, was for it to be used as a "checkpoint" for eastern bound traffic along the California Trail. The United States was building toward its Civil War, and soldiers from Fort Churchill could prevent draft eligible southern
Williams Station 53
sympathizers from returning back east and joining the Confederate Army. The Paiute Indian War was, in fact, over before the Fort was completed, making that second possibility appear even more plausible.
Williams Station actually had two names and two existences. After having been raided and razed in 1860 its real estate was later repossessed, and the station rebuilt by one Ebenezar "Honey Lake" Smith, thus the very obvious name change to "Honey Lake" Station.(12)
Mark Twain described the Station in 1862, as he and three companions were returning from an unsuccessful prospecting foray at Unionville, Nevada Territory:
We rode through a snow storm for two or three days, and arrived at "Honey Lake Smith's" a sort of isolated inn on the Carson River. It was a two story log house situated on a small knoll in the midst of the vast basin or desert through which the sickly Carson winds its melancholy way. Close to the house were the Overland stage stables, built of sun dried bricks. There was not another building within several leagues of the place. Towards sunset about 20 hay wagons arrived and camped around the house and all the teamsters came in to supper - a very, very rough set. There were one or two Overland stage drivers there, also, and a half dozen vagabonds and stragglers; consequently the house was well crowded.(13)
Fort Churchill was disestablished after the Civil War. When that happened, Mr. Buckland bought the salvage rights to it and used the lumber to build an even finer house and inn -- which still stands today where US 95A crosses the Carson River. Mr. Buckland and his family are buried in the Fort's cemetery. The soldiers buried there were exhumed after the disestablishment and were either returned home or moved to the Carson City cemetery.
The Fort's adobe ruins are today partially restored thanks to the Depression era efforts of the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) and volunteer labor, and, with funding today, it serves as a Nevada State Park. It boasts a small but excellent museum, complete with artillery pieces and caissons. The Park Service operates a seasonal campground there, on the River's edge.
During the winter of 1992-93, a snow pack of 150% of normal, coming down the Carson River out of the High Sierras restored the [Lahontan] Lake's water to its normal level, again returning Williams and/or Honey Lake Station to its watery grave.
54 Russell P. Armstrong
While the site was exposed, several loose rock foundations could be located; some were for buildings while others were for corrals. Traces of metal objects could be sought after and located under the loose, powdery sand that the River had deposited over the site during the past several decades. One object recovered by the author and friends was a horseshoe, one that had been quite radically twisted, as though it had been hung up then twisted off by the wearer, while moving through rocks. Its layers of rust were laminated upon it, and, after drying, became quite brittle, breaking to the touch.
There was no evidence of any of the three graves that the Ormsby party was reported to have dug on May 10, prior to their departure for Pyramid Lake. Activities taking place after Honey Lake Station was reconstructed could have caused their obliteration. Considering the relatively small space and the amount of activity described by Mark Twain, sheer traffic could have eroded their identity. Equally possible is destruction by floods. Mark Twain's was to have been an overnight stop, but flash flooding by the Carson River kept his party in place for several days.
Droughts in the region are cyclical, so perhaps within the next 25 to 30 years, Williams and/or Honey Lake Station will once again rise from its watery grave. By then even fewer who happen past this isolated spot will recognize or question the unusual grouping of rocks -- just this side of the stream's edge.
Williams (Honey Lake) Station on February 7, 1993. The Carson River's original bed lies
between the viewer and logs. The California Trail would have passed
just behind the viewer. (Russell P. Armstrong photo)
Williams Station 55
An aerial view of Ft. Churchill. Parade field is just off wingtip. Two-story building on right was
Officer's Quarters. Museum is left of center. The Carson River is to the left. The California
Trail is now the paved road seen at right. Buckland' s Station is under left wing.
(Russell P. Armstrong photo)
NOTES
1. The consistently most perilous stretch of the California Trail was the Forty Mile Desert. It had two crossings, the Truckee River Route and the Carson River Route. Both commenced at the Humboldt Sink (terminus to the Humboldt River), and ended once the traveler reached either Ragtown Station or the big bend in the Truckee River.
2. Egan, Ferol; Sand in a Whirlwind; the Paiute War of 1860; University of Nevada Press; 1985, 91.
3. Thompson & West; History of Nevada: 1881; Howell North; 1958.
4. Egan, 95.
5. Ibid.
6. Thompson & West.
7. His uncovered remains are believed to have been discovered in 1992,
buried in a creekbed in northwestern Nevada's Black Rock Desert. He had allegedly been killed with two others while out prospecting. They were exhumed and reinterred at Susanville, California.
8. Lassen had claimed to have a better passage through the Sierra Nevadas to California, which would bring emigrants over tracts of land that he had laid claim to. His hope was that, at least some would decide to
56 Russell P. Armstrong
settle there, giving him his own settlement, much as Sutter had done on the other side. He was to suffer the wrath and anger of those who had attempted his passage. There stands a National Forest and National Park today in northeastern California that bears his name.
9. Thompson & West, 153.
10. There is historical disagreement on this point; as to whether they bivouacked at Williams Station, or moved north and did so at the elbow of the Truckee River.
11. An Indian school bearing his name was later established in Carson City. Closed down after a long life, it is now open to the public as the Stewart Indian Museum.
12. Childers, Roberta; Magee Station and the Churchill Chronicles; Jamison Station Press; 1985.
13. Twain, Mark; Roughing It; Iowa Center for Textual Studies. [original copyright 1871] 1973.
Hearts of Gold and Hostile Times: Wartime Reactions to the
"Japanese Question" in Churchill County Nevada
Andrew B. Russell
Fewer than 500 Japanese Americans lived in Nevada when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. Nevada would not become part of the evacuation zone that encompassed California and much of Oregon, Washington, and Arizona. As a result, most Japanese residents of the state escaped the hardships, humiliation, and injustice of the mass internment.(1) But the crisis certainly touched the lives of the Nevada Japanese. A sizable number were sent to the camps, and all Japanese-American residents faced suspicions, restrictions, and other adversities during the war. No other state was closer to the region of exile, and the so-called "Japanese question" received considerable attention throughout Nevada.
Nevertheless, one fundamental difference separated the Nevada Japanese from those living in the West Coast states and Arizona. While the wartime experiences of the latter were shaped by federal dictates, local conditions played the dominant role in determining the experiences of the former. Despite some federal involvement, the wartime experiences of the Japanese in Nevada were shaped primarily by local circumstances, which were rooted in local history and varied from town to town. Also in contrast to the situation in California, the Nevada Japanese themselves played a central role in determining outcomes.
The town of Fallon in Churchill County exemplifies the important effects of local conditions on Nevada-Japanese experiences during the war. Although contrasts characterize the Nevada response to the "Japanese question," the Fallon example is in many ways typical. This article draws mainly from a history of "The Japanese in Churchill County," researched by former resident Masa Kito, and from a more recent study on wartime experiences, to illustrate the connections between the two.(2) To add crucial perspective, it also outlines larger developments and experiences elsewhere in Nevada. It begins, as it must, with a brief overview of the Japanese in Nevada before the war.
57
58 Andrew B. Russell
THE NEVADA JAPANESE, 1900 TO 1940
Some Japanese immigrants, or Issei, came to Nevada in the late 1800s as domestic servants, cooks, laundry workers, and students. But the majority (always a minute minority) arrived after the turn of the century. Between 1900 and 1910 the U.S. Census recorded about a four-fold increase of Japanese in the state, and the population reached a zenith of 864 by the official count.(3) Railroad workers, many of whom were brought to Nevada by Japanese labor contractors based in California and Utah, accounted for most of the increase. Whether employed in service jobs or railroad construction and maintenance, the Japanese helped to fill the economic roles of prior Chinese immigrants to Nevada, whose numbers dramatically declined after Chinese exclusion in the 1880s. (4) Some of these Japanese pioneers, joined by countrymen feeling the effects of anti-Japanese sentiment in California, decided to put down roots in Nevada. They acquired laundries and other business ventures, bought or leased farm land, and sought permanent positions and advancement in the industrial labor force.
By 1920 the population had dropped to 754, and it would decline steadily after Japanese exclusion in 1924. Significantly, however, the number of women immigrants had jumped during the previous decade from eight to ninety-six.(5) Most of the female Issei were "picture brides," women from Japan who were wedded to absentee husbands in America through arranged marriages and brought to the United States for the purpose of starting families. The dramatic increase in the female population is an indication of economic advancement. Japan's strict immigration policies required that emigrants show proof of financial security before they could bring wives to the U.S.(6) The natural result of the influx of women was a small but steady increase of Nisei, or second-generation Japanese Americans, over the years. By 1940, the Nisei outnumbered Issei throughout most of Nevada.(7)
Before too pastoral a scene is painted, readers should know that anti-Japanese sentiment (like anti-Chinese prejudice before it) was no stranger to Nevada. At times between 1905 and the 1924 exclusion act, it was rather intense and it probably had some bearing on the declining population figures. Still, it tended to be localized and far less evident than in nearby California, and, despite early discrimination, most of the Nevada Japanese had taken root in their communities by the outbreak of World War II.
Japanese in Churchill County 59
By the late thirties, the first-generation Japanese had registered successes as outstanding farmers, fair business operators, and dependable workers and supervisors. Rarely did the Issei have much contact with the larger society, beyond the job or business setting. The language barrier prevented that, in many cases, and racial prejudice also worked against social intermixing. Nevertheless, in general, business dealings and daily community contacts between Japanese and Euro-American neighbors were cordial. There are few signs that strong anti-Japanese sentiment existed in most parts of Nevada after 1930.(8)
The Nisei, on the other hand, had realized a remarkable degree of acceptance among their peers. Racial distinctions were far less important to children who grew up in the small towns of Nevada during the twenties and thirties. A minute group in most communities, Nisei children tended to build friendships with non-Japanese children. Many attended mainstream churches, and schools throughout the state fostered equal opportunity in the classroom and in athletic competition. Fewer than 200 Japanese Americans had attended Nevada high schools by 1941, but this group had produced many outstanding students, star athletes, and class officers. These included at least one senior class president and two student body presidents!(9) Rabid anti-Japanese sentiment was not extinguished from Nevada, as wartime events would prove. But it was isolated to a few smoldering hot spots when news of Pearl Harbor struck.
WORD OF WAR: INITIAL REACTIONS
It was only a matter of hours before local factors mingled with fallout from Pearl Harbor to produce mixed reactions in Nevada. The earliest results were disastrous. Eiichi (Roy) Muranaka and Shizutaro (Fred) Toyota, leaders of the Japanese work force in the company towns of Ruth and McGill in White Pine County, were arrested on December 7 and December 8, respectively. At that time, about 150 Japanese worked for Nevada Consolidated Copper Corporation in the mining and milling towns of Ruth and McGill. Others worked in section gangs for the company-owned Nevada Northern Railway, which stretched from Ruth to Cobre in Elko County. Within a week, these men were dismissed from their jobs--partly because of demands by their co-workers--and confined under armed guard. FBI agents arrived in the area by mid-December to search Japanese living quarters and interrogate the Issei, who made up most of the Japanese work force.
60 Andrew B. Russell
Between sixty and one hundred Japanese nationals were forcibly removed from the company towns by early January 1942 and sent to a county jail in Salt Lake City, Utah. From there, most were sent to internment camps in Montana and North Dakota. Some of the few Japanese workers and family members left behind eventually ended up in relocation camps in Utah. Three Japanese suicides occurred among this group of Nevada "evacuees," and no Japanese could be found living in the company towns by war's end."
A host of factors contributed to these actions and they cannot be fully addressed in this article. But clearly, local circumstances played a leading role. Conditions that contributed to events included: demographic imbalances in the composition of the population; decades of company-imposed segregation in Ruth and McGill; a long history of animosity against Japanese labor in the district; and pervasive prejudice that stemmed from these and other factors. For indication that these conditions were a deciding influence, we need look no further than Ely, Nevada, located less than fifteen miles from Ruth or McGill. Though they felt some of the effects of the county-wide fervor, the Japanese Americans of nearby Ely (excepting Muranaka, who resided there) escaped arrests and serious hardships."
In any case, the White Pine County reaction was an anomaly. No other town or region of the state witnessed such an immediate and intense show of anti-Japanese hysteria. Most communities were prepared to follow the advice of Nevada Governor Edward "E. P." Carville and many others, who implored residents to "keep calm and approach this emergency sensibly." 12) Miles N. Pike, United States Attorney for Nevada, responded even more decisively. Two days after Pearl Harbor, he announced that complaints and cases involving Japanese aliens were a federal matter and warned that no arrests should be made by state or local officials.(13) One week later Pike issued a lengthy statement to further guide residents during the crisis. "The United States is at War," Pike said, and:
[e]very American will share in the task of defending our country. It is essential at times such as this that we keep our heads, keep our tempers -above all, that we keep in mind what we are defending. ... There are living in the United States today aliens who make up 3 1/2 percent of our total population. The aliens for the most part are here legally and are loyal to this country's institutions. ... Four out of five of them have family ties in
Japanese in Churchill County 61
this country -- in most cases, American-born children. [Many] have taken steps to become American citizens ... [though some] of our aliens are ineligible for citizenship ... for technical reasons. The great majority of our alien population will continue to be loyal to our democratic principles if we ... permit them to be. As a matter of justice and out of duty to our country and our institutions we must, therefore, foster their loyalty and give it our encouragement ... (14)
Pike added that the federal government was aware of the dangers presented by disloyal persons and that it had "control of the activities" of these individuals. But he said the government would protect loyal aliens from discrimination or abuse, and he warned that persecution of non-citizens might hurt the war effort by turning loyal "aliens in America against America." Although the Japanese were not specifically mentioned by Pike, his emphasis on the rights and loyalty of aliens "ineligible for citizenship" was in clear reference to the Issei, who were not permitted the right of naturalization.
Pike's words probably furthered the cause of just treatment for the Japanese and other aliens. But contemporary newspapers indicate that a similar tolerant attitude already existed in most Nevada communities. A chief indicator of restraint was the appearance of very few articles or editorials about the Japanese in December 1941. If they were mentioned by local papers, it was generally in a favorable light.(15) Small-town papers also ignored, for the most part, the ever-building "Japanese problem," as it was reported (and partly concocted) by the California media. Conversely, Pike's statement was carried by most Nevada newspapers and none challenged him on his assessment of alien loyalty.
That is not to say that the U. S. Attorney's words were properly relayed in all communities. The Ely newspaper elected to tailor Pike's message to apply only to Germans and Italians, while the paper in Goldfield, Nevada almost missed it altogether.(16) Goldfield and Esmeralda County's initial response to the crisis was also extreme. But effects on the Japanese were nil, despite the headline appearing locally in mid-December: "Goldfield Repels Japanese Invasion."
Sheriff William D. Howard, the article reported, had received word about 7 p.m. the previous Sunday that a carload of "Japs" was approaching Goldfield from Death Valley Junction, California. "Howard immediately formed a posse all equipped with high powered rifles" and established an interception post on the summit one mile south of town. He selected this
62 Andrew B. Russell
site so that "the lives of citizens would not be endangered in the event there was gunfire." However, luck was on the side of these unidentified travelers, not the December posse. The "invaders" never turned up, and the Goldfield brigade abandoned its post around midnight.(17)
The next evening, more than 150 residents of Esmeralda County attended a meeting of the local defense council. Amos H. Dow, a participant in the stakeout the night before (and, coincidentally, managing editor of the Goldfield News) was also chairman of the defense council. He and other members expressed great satisfaction at the huge turnout and the general success of the meeting. Among others, District Attorney Peter Breen spoke on the importance of "ferreting out subversive elements and maintaining a vigilance against saboteurs. "(18) But anyone interested in ferreting out Japanese subversives in Esmeralda would have been frustrated: no Japanese had lived there since 1930 or before. Since its founding around 1904, Japanese and other Asians had not been welcome in Goldfield.(19)
Although reactions in the towns of Ruth, McGill, and Goldfield exemplify the potential dangers faced by the Japanese in Nevada immediately after Pearl Harbor, those reactions were decidedly atypical. By all indications, Reno, Elko, Las Vegas, Winnemucca, Fallon, Lovelock -- most towns -- initially reacted with restraint and compassion towards Japanese neighbors.(20) As across America, there was shock and a sense of indignation over the "sneak attack." Nevadans were no less prone to the fear and hatred that resulted, but Japanese-American residents -- in general -- did not immediately become a target for misplaced hostility.
The cause of just treatment for aliens was furthered by the formation of Nevada's Alien Enemy Hearing Board in mid-December. U.S. Attorney General Francis Biddle appointed four prominent Nevadans to the Board: George Springmeyer, attorney and former U.S. Attorney for Nevada, the Reverend Brewster Adams, Professor Reuben Thompson, and Claude H. Smith, co-publisher and managing editor of the Fallon Standard. The board was formed to hear charges against potentially dangerous individuals, not to deal with questions about evacuating any area or group. The hearings were held in Reno and ran through the early months of 1942. U.S. Attorney Miles Pike presented facts to the board and forwarded the board's recommendations for unconditional release, parole, or internment to Biddle, who had the final say. Aliens were not permitted to have a lawyer at the informal hearings, but they were allowed to respond to
Japanese in Churchill County 63
charges made against them.(21)
As later developments demonstrated, not every member of the Alien Enemy Hearing Board shared Pike's philosophy of innocent until proven guilty. George Springmeyer did, but Reverend Adams was reportedly "anxious to dispatch the Japanese to concentration camps ..." (22) Ultimately, however, no aliens were interned from the Board's jurisdiction. (23) Under increasing pressure, the leadership of the Alien Enemy Hearing Board (mainly Springmeyer and Pike), helped keep federal and local persecutors at bay.
Instead of subsiding as 1941 ended, questioning about the Japanese -still focused on residents -- intensified. The day after Christmas, Governor Carville proclaimed an "unlimited state of emergency" in Nevada. The Governor pointed no finger at the Japanese. He again urged "calm and mature judgment" and cautioned residents against giving reports about neighbors based on "malice, hatred or spite." Nevertheless, the principal point of his address was to remind residents (possibly distracted by the holiday season) of the need for constant vigilance against sabotage! 24) Nevada and the Japanese were moving deeper into a national crisis that would challenge even the most tolerant communities.
JAPANESE NEIGHBORS UNDER INCREASED SCRUTINY
Japanese-American residents of Churchill County and other parts of Nevada faced the greatest wartime threats in January and February of 1942. This period saw respect for the rights of Japanese Americans, aliens and citizens alike, rapidly erode. As victories for the Imperial Army continued to mount in early 1942, Japanese Americans were singled out as a major threat to national security, particularly in California and on the West Coast where they were concentrated. FBI "round-ups" of alien Japanese intensified. Business, civic, and religious leaders were arrested, as was anyone with previous ties to the Japanese government and its military.
Mass evacuation plans also began to take shape during this period, when control of the situation passed from the Department of Justice into the hands of the military. Long-standing and pervasive prejudice against Japanese Americans reached new heights throughout California and much of the Far West. Anti-Japanese organizations, politicians, and the press, largely satisfied and silenced after successfully ending Japanese immigration in the twenties, re-emerged with a new vengeance. Their
64 Andrew B. Russell
ranks were joined by highly-respected individuals like California Attorney General Earl Warren and columnist Walter Lippmann. Irresponsible, sometimes malicious, moves by high-ranking military and civilian officials at the federal level -- a "failure of political leadership" -ultimately led to the evacuation. But long-standing anti-Japanese prejudice, intensified by the climate of hysteria, also figured into the decision to exclude the Japanese from California and parts of Washington, Oregon, and Arizona.(25)
Why the evacuation zone did not slice into Nevada is a subject for further study. Distinguished historian Russell Elliott says "it was suggested that all Nevada Japanese be interned within the state," and that Governor Carville was ready to consent to such a plan.(26) Federal authorities were ultimately responsible for deciding who would be interned from Nevada -- en masse or individually. But it is likely that voices from within Nevada influenced the grand evacuation decision,(27) and Nevadans unquestionably controlled the wartime fate of Japanese individuals residing within the state.
Quite clearly, the lives of Japanese-American residents stood in a precarious balance in the early months of 1942. The Fallon Japanese were no exception. They probably were more susceptible than most because the northwest region of Nevada felt the brunt of the hostility that surfaced during this phase of the crisis. Because of its proximity to California, the region traditionally had exhibited a greater degree of anti-Japanese sentiment. California's new "Japanese problem" contributed to a rebirth of racism in the area during the periods of "voluntary" and forced evacuation. But, once again, local factors had an overriding influence on shaping local reactions and local Japanese experiences. As elsewhere in Nevada, explanations of wartime events in Fallon can only be found by looking back at the peculiar pre-war history of the Japanese in that community.
THE JAPANESE OF CHURCHILL COUNTY
It seems that early Japanese settlement in Churchill County proceeded along the similar patterns seen elsewhere in Nevada. No Japanese showed up in the 1890 U.S. Census of Churchill County, only twenty-four were recorded in 1900, and by 1910 the count had doubled to forty-eight.(28) Manuscripts from 1910 show that the majority were employed as railroad laborers and living in Hunley and Hazen precincts. Servants, cooks, and
Japanese in Churchill County 65
people engaged in the laundry trade comprised most of the Japanese population of Fallon in that year.(29) Census materials only provide a snap-shot of the region, at ten-year intervals. But, by scanning local newspapers, former Churchill County resident and Nisei, Masa Kito, found other Japanese cooks, servants, and laundry men in Fallon during the early years. Among them was Frank Furukawa, who opened the first Japanese laundry in Fallon in 1905.(30)
Important changes occurred in the Fallon region, and in the local Japanese population, during the teens. By 1920 the Japanese had all but disappeared from the railroad towns of Churchill, for unknown reasons.(31) Japanese still operated local laundries during this period, but the significant development was the entry of the Japanese into Fallon agriculture. Sugar-beet farming brought the first large group of Japanese to the community in 1911. When a refinery was built there by the Nevada Sugar Company, beet farming blossomed in Churchill County, aided by Japanese contract labor. According to Kito, Fallon beet growers welcomed these Japanese laborers for their willingness to do back-breaking work for low wages. At least one successful Japanese sugar-beet farmer from California came to see about acquiring 100 acres and to discuss beet culture with locals. Dreams of sugar-wealth never fully crystallized in Fallon: pest infestation hampered efforts and the plant closed several years later. But independent Japanese agriculturists remained. By 1915 Sam Inamochi and Haruo Sasaki had each started farms on leased acreage and another Japanese had opened a profitable fruit stand in Fallon.(32)
Beets or no beets, Churchill County agriculture was destined to flourish when the Newlands Reclamation Project was completed in 1916. Creating Lahonton Reservoir near Fallon, this wonder of the Progressive Era, helped double the value of Churchill farm property during the teens and increase the number of farm owners, managers, and tenants from 354 to 498.(33) Agricultural census figures tell little about the Japanese of the region, as they are categorized with a large Native American population and other"non-whites." But the 1920 manuscripts captured Sam Inamochi, still farming with one employee, and Minoru Endow also farming rented acreage with the help of Kataoka Shikanosuke, Keichi Hada, and Gen Nishiyama. Endow had come to the region around 1911 as an interpreter for the Japanese labor gangs. Sasaki was working as a hired man on George Leidy's farm by then because he lost his first farm to eel-worm
66 Andrew B. Russell
infestation.(34)
At twenty-three total residents, the Japanese were not a dominant force in local agriculture, nor was the population as a whole numerically significant in 1920. But the statistics indicate that the Fallon Japanese were more settled than in most Nevada towns, and that they represented a significant part of Japanese agriculture in the state. Hada and Nishiyama had both immigrated in the 1890s and the latter had a wife, Saki, and a nine-year-old son, William. George and Kimi Mizui, both 1906 immigrants, owned and operated a Fallon laundry on Broadway at the time. His employee, Frank Omomura (Onuma?), also was listed as married with one son. A cook named Eddie Koboyashi, his wife, and their three Nevada-born children, ages one through six, also resided in town.(35) Japanese families and farmers were taking root in several Nevada communities by that time, but the Fallon group contained more families and farmers per capita.
These modest but noteworthy inroads were almost shattered, however, by two developments that converged in January of 1920. First, Fallonites suddenly took notice of new laws restricting Japanese land ownership in nearby California. Secondly, fears that
these restrictions might lead to a large local influx of Japanese farmers were compounded when two newcomers purchased an eighty-acre ranch three miles south of town.(36) Apparently the first Japanese farm bought locally, this became one of only five Japanese owned farms in the state. The sale touched off one of the worst anti-Japanese movements in Nevada's history.
Juichi Kito and his partner Kensuke Ito were transplants from the delta region of Stockton, California, where they did well
Back Row, left to right: Juichi Shigeo Kito
[1896-1976] and Kensuke Ito [1883-1973] .
Front Row, left to right: Su Tomomatsu Kito
[1903-1990] and Shiki Takeda Ito [1898-1988] .
(Churchill County Museum & Archives
Photo Collection)
Japanese in Churchill County 67
during World War I growing potatoes and onions. The new land restrictions had forced them out of Stockton. To most people of Fallon, they were nothing more than "Jap refugees" -- particularly undesirable ones since they had come to buy, not lease. Little did they realize it, but Ito and Kito were greeted by hostility the moment they stepped off the train in Fallon. They supposed that the crowd had gathered at the Fallon deport for a dignitary that would depart after them, but were informed by their friend, Endow, on the way to their farm, that the reception and the signs were meant for them.(37)
Despite the limited effectiveness of the written word, permanent notices warning, "Japs Not Wanted Here," were posted at the depot. The fervor quickly intensified. Newspaper editorials and concerned citizens called for an alien land law for Nevada and petitioned the local Chamber of Commerce to push for federal Japanese exclusion. Actions of the Churchill County anti-Japanese movement caught the attention of other towns, and the State Bar Association based in Reno, initiated the first of several failed attempts to revoke alien land ownership rights guaranteed under the state's constitution.(38) In early March 1921, a boycott of Japanese goods and services was declared at a meeting of twenty-five to thirty Churchill residents. They mutually agreed not only to the boycott but to "ordering" present residents of Japanese origin out and escorting, "gently but firmly," any new arrivals back to Hazen, the main rail link.(39)
But a brave counter-movement also surfaced in mid-March 1921. Soon after the boycott meeting, employers of the Japaanese and large land owners leasing to the Japanese began to clarify their positions on the "Jap" issue. Although their assessments of Japanese people were far from flattering, they generally opposed the boycott and protested the activities of the anti-Japanese Association. On March 12, thirty men took a decided stand against the boycott in an open meeting that aired both sides of thee issue. They reportedly all agreed that the Japanese were undesirable as neighbors and citizens, but the opposition argued that Japanese stoop labor was essential if Fallon agriculture was to compete with California. They pointed out that whites were unwilling to work leased acreage and offered that Mexicans were a poor substitute for the Japanese, who needed no supervision and could be depended on to "deliver the goods." Some praised the accomplishments of Japanese in California farming, particularly in melon culture, and said the Japanese had already aided in turning alfalfa fields to arable land on the Newlands project.(40) Though
68 Andrew B. Russell
absent from the firestorm in the press, I. H. Kent, a local produce shipper and owner of the largest market, was reportedly a major figure in the counter as s ault.(41)
Opposition to the Japanese subsided thereafter. That spring, large land owners began leasing small farms to Japanese sugar-beet growers, still hoping for growth in that industry. Many other Japanese farmers came into the community during the twenties and thirties. It seems, however, that a defacto policy forbidding land sales and limiting the Japanese to farming under a ninety-nine year lease plan became firmly entrenched.(42)
Juichi Kito and Kensuke Ito stood their ground against the 1920 assault. That year they kept busy with a small garden, determining what varieties of crops could be raised successfully. Ito found time to bring his wife, Shika, a 1916 immigrant picture bride, from Stockton in March. In September, Kito returned to Japan to meet and marry Su Tomomatsu from Aichi Ken, and the two returned to Fallon by year's end.
In 1922 the two couples began raising Hearts of Gold cantaloupes. Over the years, the Kito-Ito farm produced alfalfa, assorted garden vegetables, turkeys, chickens, milk and other dairy products, and livestock. But the cantaloupes became a main cash crop and soon developed into a golden crop for many Fallonites. Three years later, four other Japanese couples raised 100 acres of the cantaloupes and shipped them under contract to the Weaver Company in Chicago. Masa Kito remembers her family's Hearts-of-Gold being shipped as far as Paris Island, South Carolina.(43) If the Kitos and Itos were not the first to raise Hearts-of-Gold locally, they were great popularizers of the fruit that bore the I. H. Kent -- Fallon logo.
The Kitos and Itos raised more than cantaloupes and other edibles over the years. Five children were born to Mr. and Mrs. Ito and the Kito couple produced nine. Other Japanese families came and went in the Fallon area, but these two remained through the 1950s and 1960s. All thirteen children (an earlier Masa died in infancy) progressed through the local school system. The earliest of the three boys and ten girls began elementary school with no working knowledge of English.
Masa Kito has provided a description of the human harvest, through the eyes of a youngest daughter. The Kitos' first child, Meiko, was born in May 1922 and re-named May when she got to elementary school. Their second daughter they called Meriko, or Mary, because the name was easily understood and pronounced in Japanese or English. Next came Jun (or Junior) "the athlete" of the family, followed by Ham (Spring), the
Japanese in Churchill County 69
"happy-go-lucky" daughter. Emi, "the brains of the Kito clan" was born next, followed by Aya, "the beauty," and Noboru, "the farmer." Last came Masa, "the tail end" (and chief historian) of the family. Their roommates, the Ito children, included a son, Tomomi, and four daughters, Yoshiko, Shizu, Takako, and Tomio.(44) The farm house they shared only had three bedrooms; Juichi Kito, a trained carpenter, lined the their walls with bunk beds. The two families lived in tight quarters, but according to Masakatsu Kito, an uncle who also lived there a while during the thirties, "no one complained."(45)
Su Tomomatsu Kito poses behind the wheel of the family auto although she never learned to drive.
Shiki Takeda Ito, holding baby, and Haru Kito [Koto] adorn the back seat.
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
Without question, these "hearts of gold" were far more important to the Japanese farmers than any cantaloupe crops they raised. The Kito and Ito parents considered education the prime nutrient in child development, and Masa says they "gravely determined" that each child obtain as much education as possible. Part of their strategy was to have their daughters
70 Andrew B. Russell
live with and work for Euro-American families in the Fallon area, following in the Japanese "school boy" tradition of the late 1800s.(46) Besides providing some relief for the crowded conditions at time, the alternate environment ensured that the "school girls" received intense exposure to American ways and customs, particularly the constant use of English.
May and Haru Kito spent much of their high school years living with the Bass family of Fallon. They performed household chores and helped cook for a large crew of farm hands. The Ito daughters, born in the mid-twenties, also worked as school girls, and even the later-born remember summer jobs with nearby families, "washing dishes and cleaning house for fifty cents a month." Mary lived for a time with Hattie Brown, an educator who taught Latin and other Romance languages. Through these experiences, the girls learned many domestic "tricks of the trade." They were able, for instance, to teach their mothers how to make delicious American-style breads and cakes. But the Kito and Ito parents gained a larger reward from this strategy and from the constant emphasis on education. All the children graduated high school and went on to pursue the advanced education and training that their career choices required.
The Kito and Ito children were certainly "Americanized" by the school system and these other experiences. But Japanese values and customs were also a part of their upbringing, as was weekend "Japanese language school" taught by their mothers during the slow winter months. The family remained the focal point of their lives, and their recent recollections of growing up in Fallon emphasize experience on the family farm. May remembers "all the freedom of clean air -- good food ... , going fishing, [and] going swimming in the canal close to home." Mary recalls getting up early to milk the cows, riding the horse Jenny to piano lessons, and struggling with the family in Fallon. Emi remembers some "wonderful teachers, such as Miss Gibbs, Miss Brown, and Mr. Telecky," but thinks back first to the farm -- to "accidentally dropping a watermelon when harvesting so we could eat just the heart of it."
These recollections, gathered at a family reunion, do not contain much about classmates or friends outside the family or the Japanese community. Questioned about this, the Kito and Ito families say that their school friends were Euro-Americans, but holidays, picnics, and other social activities generally only included family and Japanese friends in the
Japanese in Churchill County 71
pre-war years. Like many Nevada-born Japanese, they say they "didn't know what prejudice was" until they left Nevada as adults, or, until the war came. But still, the fact that the Nevada Nisei overwhelmingly left the state when they came of age points to a stark social barrier which was almost impenetrable in this period. Inter-racial marriage was forbidden in Nevada, under law and under common mores on both sides of the racial divide.(47) Children were encouraged by parents to move to California or elsewhere when they finished high school. Education was one motivator: Tomomi Ito left to attend the University of California at Berkeley in 1938. But concern about finding a mate, on the parts of parents and offspring alike, also contributed to this trend.
Barriers and lingering social divisions were more pronounced, of course, for Issei residents of Fallon. The policy forbidding Japanese farm ownership persisted and may have contributed to a steadily declining Issei population in the thirties. Some went back to Japan, some to California. Cultural preferences probably influenced these choices as well, but social isolation and the land-ownership restriction no doubt contributed to the exodus of Issei.
The Kito and Ito parents may have had more community connections than most. They counted the Miller and the Bass families as good friends and helpful neighbors and sometimes made social visits to their homes. They had close business and social ties to the Kent family, mainly Ira L. Kent who came to control the retail and shipping operation. Other Euro-Americans of the community regularly bought goods direct from the farm. The parents had many casual friends in the community through business dealings and their children's school-girl pursuits. But even these Issei, whose English language skills alone taxed contact with others, were more comfortable at home.
Despite certain barriers for the old and the young, local Japanese families were very much entrenched in Fallon. By 1940, the Kito and Ito families accounted for about half of the Japanese-American population of Churchill County. Three other families brought the total to thirty-five. Early comer Haruo Sasakai had brought a wife from Japan after 1920; the couple had six children and were operating a successful truck farm. Also farming in the area were Kunio and Grace Kajikami, siblings who had moved to Fallon from Yerington, Nevada in the early twenties. The Sano family, composed of five Nisei, had been operating the Fallon Steam Laundry since 1928. The parents of the latter two families had returned to
72 Andrew B. Russell
Japan in the mid-thirties.(48)
These long-time residents of Fallon hardly could be viewed as "outsiders." Most of the Nisei were Fallon natives, and all had received part or all of their education through the local school system. They were American citizens. In fact, the ratio of foreign-born (8) to native-born Japanese Americans (27) was the lowest of any county state wide.(49) Finally, if complete assimilation was not the local rule, a lengthy history of tolerance and acceptance was. These preconditions would have a tremendous affect on local responses to the World War II "Japanese question."
Potato harvesting in 1941 included everyone who was tall enough to carry a gunny sack.
Note the burlap over the horses' backs to ward off horseflies.
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
THE COUNTY'S ANSWER TO THE "JAPANESE QUESTION"
Masa Kito's history of the Japanese in Churchill County contains very little about wartime experiences. Drawing primarily on the recollections of her father, she says only that "a group of prominent townspeople came to our defense and persuaded federal authorities that the Japanese of this area were loyal to their adopted country." People of the county "showed their respect " for the Japanese and helped them "during one of the most troubled times of our history. "(50) Masa and her father probably were the first of may Nevada Japanese to identify prominent townspeople as crucially important allies and to record a sense of gratitude to their community.
Japanese in Churchill County 73
Haru Kito, about ten years old at the time, remembers that prominent residents actually held a town meeting (similar to the one in 1921) to discuss the loyalty question. These residents, including the local judge, law-enforcement officials, influential farmers and business people--even the local postmaster, decided that the Japanese of Fallon presented no threat to the community and agreed to defend them against any problems that might arise.(51) Although the interaction process between these community leaders and federal officials remains a mystery, we can take a closer look at the source of community support and the principals involved in local decision-making.
One of the most prominent and influential citizens of the community was Claude Smith, member of the Alien Hearing Board and editor of The Fallon Standard. Regrettably, we know little about Smith's participation on the Board.(52) But his newspaper provides good insights into his feelings about the Japanese of Fallon and elsewhere. A December 10 editorial in The Fallon Standard notes "some but slight" evidence of hysteria in Fallon. It told residents not to become "unduly" exited about Japanese families living in the area. It suggested that "the people of Japan want peace; that [its military leaders had] thrown the Pacific into conflict." Smith (if he, in fact, penned the piece) asked people to consider whether "Oriental homemakers," who had come to America to "rear their families and prosper," would want to go back to live under "the yoke of the Japanese war lords. ..." He expressed grief that these people "may endure cruel humiliation from neighbors they once held as friends," or, worse yet, from irresponsible journalists.(53)
In mid-December The Fallon Standard reported that the local alien situation was being handled by the FBI. It cautioned residents against accepting rumors and warned that great harm could be done by "ill considered individual action." When orders came from Washington that "alien-enemy" families had to relinquish firearms and other contraband (short-wave radios, cameras, even large flashlights), the paper reported that local Japanese families had responded in short order. Finally, in late January the paper laid to rest a persistent rumor, stating unequivocally that no enemy aliens had been taken into custody by federal officials in Churchill County.(54) It is safe to conclude that Smith was one influential citizen who responded in defense of Japanese residents.
Churchill County Sheriff Ralph J. Vannoy was another authority who apparently aided local Japanese families. The Kito family remembers that
74 Andrew B. Russell
the sheriff expressed apologies and reluctance when he arrived at their farm with an FBI agent to collect contraband and conduct a mandatory property search.(55) Japanese residents were not treated harshly by local law enforcement, and Vannoy probably used his influence to curtail activities of federal officers as well. As commander of the community defense corps, the sheriff also monitored and helped to prevent overzealous reactions by residents.
In the climate of suspicion that characterized the emergency, even neighbors and common citizens posed a potential threat. Accusations, after all, might be made by anyone, and the whole community was mobilized on behalf of the war effort. Fortunately, however, most neighbors responded with respect and kindness toward the Japanese. The friends that emerged during the crisis are too numerous to list, but the Miller, Bass, and the Gomes families are cited most often. Even local educators, like Mr. Telecky, Miss Brown, Mrs. Meister and Mrs. McGee, helped ease the pressures on Japanese students in the classroom.
But the greatest allies of local Japanese families appears to have been, once again, the Kent family. Certainly the most influential local business leader in town, Ira Kent was also Chairman of the local defense counsel and appointed heads of the various divisions.(57) Japanese residents were, in 1942, among the least informed about activities and decisions that transpired. Overwhelmingly, however, they have since pointed to Ira Kent as the key individual who took a stand on their behalf during the crisis. (5 8)
Some Japanese detractors undoubtedly surfaced in the community as well. But their fears, suspicions, and complaints were obviously overshadowed by the views of more influential supporters. If some details about the activities of both camps have been overlooked or forgotten, the overall results are clear. Support from the community, based on long-standing personal ties and years of good conduct on the part of Japanese residents, resulted in no arrests or extreme hardships for the Fallon Japanese.
Like other Nevada Japanese, these residents experienced some losses, many untold insults, and unjust restrictions during the war. The Kito and Ito families were instructed by Sheriff Vannoy to burn their Japanese language texts -- likely, for their own protection. They turned in their family radio, but it was returned a while later with the short-wave portion removed. They were fortunate in that respect. Much of the contraband
Japanese in Churchill County 75
collected in Nevada from Japanese, German, and Italian aliens, especially prized hunting riffles, disappeared during the war. Japanese-American railroad workers were dismissed from their jobs as a result of a federal decree in February. Curfews and travel restrictions soon were imposed on "enemy-aliens" (which came to mean exclusively residents of Japanese descent in most places). Mary Kito Arita also recalls occasional, nightly patrols past the family farm by unknown individuals. The Issei and the Nisei of Nevada were subjected to careful, sometimes repeated, investigation by federal authorities, and no Nevada town lacked jingoists, racists, and "red-necks. "(59)
Nonetheless, Japanese residents had survived the scrutiny of the decision-makers by March 1942. But that month saw a shift in the
In its heyday, the Ito-Kito ranch house, still standing at 955 St. Clair
Road, was home to four adults and at least sixteen children.
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
"Japanese question," coupled with a new wave of hostility. Quite suddenly, the focus shifted to the California Japanese and questions surrounding evacuation. In Nevada the issue revolved around whether the state should accept any of these "suspect" persons, as free residents or internees. Particularly hard-hit by this new wave of anti-Japanese feeling was the northwest region of Nevada, where the seat of political influence, much of the state's agriculture, and the major west-east transportation networks operated. After the Tsunami worked its effects on Washington,
76 Andrew B. Russell
and mass internment plans were formalized, the turmoil subsided. But a bitter residue remained in puddles across the state. Yet another question -should Japanese from the relocation camps be permitted to work or reside in Nevada during or after the war -- captured the attention of many Nevadans.
The thrust of the new anti-Japanese movement seems to have come out of Reno-Sparks, but the paranoia touched the State Capital, Carson City, and other small communities in the area, like Yerington and Minden. it began with a rash of newspaper reports on Japanese "fifth column activities" in Hawaii and California, and it quickly escalated when the military began to "exclude" the Japanese from coastal areas in February and March. The brief period of "voluntary," mass evacuation in March saw Governor Carville come out in no uncertain terms against allowing these people to "roam at large' in interior states. Newspapers heartily backed the governor's stand against the Issei and the "yellow so-called citizens" of Japanese descent. "Keep the Japs out" shouted Reno area newspapers, while businesses there refused food, gas, and lodging to "escapees." Vigilante groups roamed the area, turning brown skinned travelers back to California. The governor and others would oppose relocation camps, the use of camp labor in the state, and the resettlement of the Japanese in Nevada throughout the war.(60)
It is against this backdrop that reponses and events in Fallon must be gauged. As elsewhere in Nevada, newspaper articles and editorials provide one indication of local reactions to evacuation and resettlement issues. Protracted Japanese wartime experiences also reflect something about evolving community sentiment. Fallon attitudes may have had little bearing on the larger issues, even at the state level. But Fallon provides a model of how local circumstances (most notably, the activities Japanese residents) continued to shape popular attitudes in Nevada about Japanese Americans.
Only a couple of Nevada newspapers shielded their readers from the anti-Japanese propaganda that proliferated in February 1942. The Fallon Standard was not one of them. One of its first accusatory articles even had a local focus. The February 4, front-page story announced that FBI operatives were investigating reports of "Jap picture taking" at Lahonton Dam. Demonstrating some caution, the paper reported that the two suspects, a man and a woman, may have been Chinese. But at least two witnesses, it said, had identified them as "Japs."(61)
Japanese in Churchill County 77
Although the local paper did not give as much attention to the new "Japanese problem" as Nevada newspapers linked with the United Press, it did inform residents about the "spy raids" being conducted on the West Coast. As reported, "G-men" were uncovering "spies and saboteurs" in the most unlikely places, including lettuce farms, Buddhist temples, and sporting goods stores. A raid on one such store (not surprisingly) had produced a large cash of weapons and ammunition. This article included a picture of two Buddhist priests taken into custody; the sub-caption read, they "Weren't always praying. "(62)
To its credit, The Fallon Standard was far less hostile than most newspapers in the northwest region when it addressed the issue of evacuation. Smith probably wrote an editorial on the subject that appeared in early March. While it demonstrates a growing concern on the part of Smith and the community, it also indicates ambivalence related, no doubt, to local experiences with Japanese farmers. The editorial asked: "Why Pick On Nevada?" It stated that California farm operators, who wanted cheap help and benefited from the "highly-skilled and hardworking" Japanese, were responsible for the "Orientals" being in this country. Why then should Nevada become the "dumping ground" for these "undesirables?" Though Smith believed that many were loyal to America, he thought the difficulties in sorting "the sheep from the goats" were too great. "A common solution heard on street corners," he said, was "to move them all on west -- out into the salty waters of the Pacific," which he considered inhumane. Smith concluded that Nevada should agree to receive some of these "unfortunate people" -- under armed guard -- but that California, Oregon and Washington should not insist that they be entirely removed from their states.(63)
In another lengthy editorial, printed a few days later, Smith reiterated his stand against a mandated influx of "California Japs." However, he chastised "hysterical Reno people," and persons in Fallon "guided more by their emotions than by intelligence," who would not have any evacuees placed in guarded internment camps within Nevada. He said that the people of Owens Valley, California, where the Manzanar Relocation Center was being constructed, were taking a more "sensible attitude toward this problem." They recognized the benefits that a carefully guarded force of Japanese labor could bring to local agriculture. Although he pointed out some difficulties with implementing such plans in Fallon, he expressed his belief that construction of internment camps locally
78 Andrew B. Russell
might provide new impetus to the long-held dream of a local sugar beet industry. Vacated Civil Conservation Corps facilities near Fallon should at least receive consideration as possible internment camps.(64)
Smith was not the only Fallon resident to express opinions about the new "Japanese question." The local American Legion post also expressed interest in putting guarded Japanese "labor battalions" to work on local agriculture projects, so long as they did not compete with local labor and they were removed after the war. But the resolution that relayed the legion post's views on this subject had a darker main objective. Drafted by Clyde Gummow, and unanimously approved by post members, the resolution aimed foremost at stripping the children of "Asiatic Mongolians" of their U.S. citizenship. It argued that every effort should be made to pass the
necessary legislation through
Congre s s. (65)
Fallon certainly saw its share of increased hostility during the evacuation period, but not at levels seen elsewhere in the region. And, again, the effects on Japanese-American residents were minimal, as was the case through most of Nevada. In another typical development, the "Japanese problem" slipped from the pages of the local press and the popular consciousness soon after evacuation plans were formalized. The resettlement issue later surfaced in some Nevada newspapers, but it was not widely debated in Fallon.
Fallon was, in fact, one of the few towns to accept Japanese internees into the community during the war. In 1943 the Sano family placed an ad offering employment at their laundry in a Japanese language newspaper in Salt Lake City. Frank Kusunoki, a former resident of Carson City who had been evacuated from California to the Poston Relocation Center in Arizona, got word of the job offer through a friend. He and his wife, Bernice, applied for a work release from the camp and came to live with
Su Kito hauls a basket of fresh corn-on-the-cob
in from the garden. Note the underground
"root cellar" behind her, constructed of
willows and straw, covered with dirt, where
produce was kept fresh. (Churchill County
Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
Japanese in Churchill County 79
the Sano family in Fallon. Within two years, Frank was hired by Ira Kent as a produce man at the Kent market. Two members of the Kent family, Evelyn Wildes and her father Milton Wallace, were instrumental in getting Frank hired. Frank, Bernice, and another relative released from the camps lived with the Kents until sometime after the war. They report that they experienced no problems over resettling in Fallon and that they quickly grew close to the townspeople. (66)
Whether by design or chance, Fallon and other Nevada towns did not see their Japanese population increase much during the war or during post-war resettlement. Views about the California Japanese, and opinions regarding desirable Japanese population levels, probably still lingered. In the interim, on the other hand, Japanese residents of Fallon certainly nullified a good deal of the prejudice afoot.
Like their brethren from the camps, Nevada Nisei enthusiastically answered their countries call to arms, most joining the famed 442 Infantry. Tomomi Ito returned from Berkeley to Fallon during early evacuation. He joined the 442nd in 1943, but he was soon assigned to the Army Air Corp Radio Intelligence unit in the Pacific Theater, where he served from 1943 to 1946. Jun Kito, still in high school when war broke out, joined in 1944. Meantime, he played quarterback for the Churchill County High School Football team, led them to three state-championship finals, and received the Most Popular Athlete Award for 1943-44.(67) The Kito-Ito clan, who attended games faithfully, probably should have received a booster award too.
For the Japanese farmers of Churchill County it was business as usual during the war. But Nevada Senator Patrick McCarren, acquainted with the Kitos and Itos for many years, took a keen interest in Japanese farmers of Fallon. Although McCarren's impact on the larger and smaller "decisions" has not been explored, he was sympathetic to Japanese interests by war's end. In the post-war years, he liked to bring their cantaloupes to friends in congress to prove that Nevada was not all "desert and barren wasteland."(68) Wives and daughters, a solid majority during the war, also made their special impact on community attitudes.(69)
Paradoxically, the war probably brought Japanese and Euro-American residents closer together by war's end. Unquestionably, a comparative study would show that the 1945 mood in Fallon was much healthier than in the West Coast tragedy zones. Japanese-American residents of Fallon say the war had little impact on their lives or their sense of attachment to
80 Andrew B. Russell
the larger community. Many Japanese Nevadans of the period express similar feelings. If nothing else, they share a sense of continuity in their home-town memories, a continuity that was denied the vast majority of their kindred.
Decisions made in the months immediately following Pearl Harbor dictated the course of those memories. Who and what dictated the course of those decisions has been the subject of this study. Given that a certain amount of authority in the matter came from beyond, local factors exerted major influence in internment decisions, while community mood clearly shaped experiences for the remainder of the war. Prior history at the community level offers explanations for the local responses, and Japanese residents must be the focus of that historical inquiry. Roots, planted by the Japanese of Fallon, withstood the tide of hatred that swept east from California in the early months of 1942. Local Japanese residents were able to live through the war in the freedom they "so dearly treasure"(70) because, they had convinced their neighbors, through years of hard work, impeccable conduct, and ties of friendship, that they belonged.
In the post-war years, with local agriculture declining and Nisei children advancing, the Japanese population gradually moved away from Fallon. Frank and Bernice Kusunoki were some of the last to leave when the youngest of their two children graduated high school and entered a California college in the early sixties.(71) Like those that departed before and after, they left an imprint on the community. They also carried with them a sense of gratitude for the wartime treatment they received and fond memories of their neighbors in Fallon -- "Home of the Hearts of Gold."
Japanese in Churchill County 81
NOTES
The author wishes to thank Sue Fawn Chung, David M. Anderson, Michael S. Green, and Frances Honor, for their helpful comments on a previous version of this article.
1. There is a vast body of writing on the wartime exile of Japanese Americans. Historian Roger Daniels has produced or edited a good share of it, while Sucheng Chan, Asian Americans: An Interpretive History (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1991) offers a succinct account and a useful guide to the other scholarly and popular literature.
2. Masa Kito, "The Japanese in Churchill County," 1956 [TM's], in the Byrd Sawyer Collection, Nevada Historical Society, Reno, MS #399. Kito's high school study was based mostly on interviews with her father, Juichi Kito, and on local newspaper articles. The author is very grateful to Masa Kito Fujitani and to the other former residents of Fallon, cited below, whose contributions made this local study possible. This article is an adaptation of a larger paper presented at the Nevada Historical Society's 3rd Biennial Conference and the Nevada Humanities Conference, "Asia and Nevada," in 1993.
3. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Thirteenth Census of the United States, 1910: Population. 111:2 (Washington, D.C., 1913), 86.
4. For more on the Chinese experience in Nevada see Sue Fawn Chung, "Gue Gim Wah: Pioneering Chinese American Woman of the Nevada," in Fancis X. Hartigan, ed., History and Humanities: Essays in Honor of Wilbur Shepperson (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1989) 45-79, and Loren B. Chan, "The Chinese in Nevada: An Historical Survey, 1856-1970," Nevada Historical Society Quarterly, 25, No. 4 (Winter 1982), 266-314.
5. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Sixteenth Census of the United States, 1940: Population. 11:4 (Washington, D.C., 1943), 724.6. The best source for information of the Japanese immigrant experience is Yuji Ichioka, The Issei: The World of the First Generation Japanese Immigrants, 1885-1924 (New York: The Free Press, 1988).
7. The number of Sisei equaled or exceeded the number of Issei in all Nevada counties except White Pine County. See Sixteenth Census, 1940, Population. 11:4, 753.
82 Andrew B. Russell
8. Very little has been published on the Japanese in Nevada but for localized studies and some general descriptions see: Andrew Russell, "A Fortunate Few: Japanese Americans in Southern Nevada, 1905 to 1945," Nevada Historical Society Quarterly, 31, No. 1 (Spring 1988): 32-52; Masako Winsor, "The Yamashita Family" and "The Ishimoto Family" in Arabell Lee Hafner (comp.) 100 Years on the Muddy (Springville, Utah: Art City Publishing Co., 1967); Wilbur Shepperson, Restless Strangers: Nevada's Immigrants and Their Interpreters (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1970); Phillip I. Earl, "Shots Fired in Caliente During 1906 Racial Conflict," Nevada State Journal (Reno), 10 April 1983; Phillip I. Earl, "Blood Will Tell: A Short History of Nevada's Miscegenation Laws," Nevada Public Affairs Review, Number 2, 1987; and Russell R. Elliott, History of Nevada (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1973.
9. This profile of Nisei experiences is from interviews and general studies conducted by the author. Officers included Yeiki Matsui of Elko, Jimmy Yamashita of Overton, and Taro (Fred) Toyota of McGill.
10. Descriptions of these events, with slight variations, can be found in: Elliott, History of Nevada, 311; The Nevada Historical Society (text by Phillip I. Earl), WWII in Nevada: The Homefront (Reno: Nevada Historical Society, 1992), 16; The Humboldt Star (Winnemucca), 9 December 1941; and The Ely Daily Times (hereafter EDT), 9,10,31 December 1941; 3 January 1942. The three suicides are noted in: EDT 23 December 1941; 8 May 1942, and 3 June 1942. Additional information is from a recent, unpublished study by the author.
11. These are the arguments of my recent study of White Pine County's reaction, paralleling somewhat and expanding on observations made in Elliott, History of Nevada, 311.
12. The Fallon Standard (hereafter cited as FS), 10 December 1941.
13. Nevada State Journal (hereafter cited as NSJ), 9 December 1941. Emphasis to emphasize no mention of Germans or Italians.
14. NSJ, 19 December 1941. Also see the Carson City Chronicle (hereafter, CCC), 16 December 1941 and FS, 21 January 1942.
15. For two examples see FS, 10 December 1941, and Pioche Record, 18 December 1941.
16. See EDT, 16 January 1942, Goldfield News (hereafter, GN), 6 February 1942.
17. GN, 19 December 1941.
18. "Goldfield Ready for Emergency," Ibid. In fairness, Breen also
Japanese in Churchill County 83
warned against mass hysteria which could result in persecution of innocent persons, reminding listeners that that week marked the 150th anniversary of the Bill of Rights.
19. Chan, "The Chinese in Nevada," 282, and Craig F. Swallow, "The Ku Klux Klan in Nevada During the 1920s" (unpublished master's thesis, University of Nevada, Las Vegas, 1978), 86, are two sources that describe intense and lingering anti-Asian sentiment in Goldfield.
20. Elliott, History of Nevada, 311.
21. FS, 31 December 1941, and for more on Nevada's alien hearing board see Sally Springmeyer Zanjani, The Unspiked Rail: Memories of a Nevada Rebel (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1981).
22. Zanjani, The Unspiked Rail.
23. The Nevada federal judicial district did not include Ely or Las Vegas, the latter of which was in Arizona's jurisdiction. One Las Vegas Japanese, Ikuguro Nagamatsu, would be arrested and interned in February for publicly sympathizing with Japan -- see Russell, "A Fortunate Few."
24. CCC, 26 December 1941.
25. Casual theories of the evacuation range from Morton Grodzin's early study of California pressure groups to recent studies by Roger Daniels, Michi Weglyn, Richard Drinnon, Peter Irons, and others, who point more towards prejudice and grave mistakes at top decision-making levels as the chief cause. If the emphasis here is on California, not Washington D.C., it is to draw an important contrast.
26. See Elliott, History of Nevada, 312. Elliott's source for this information is not specified, though he refers to the large collection of Carville's personal papers housed at the Nevada State Archive in Carson City. The author's search of those records failed to locate any early discussion of interning residents, though Carville personally drafted a letter in October 1942, (apparently it was never sent) which requested that all persons of Japanese ancestry be excluded from Nevada -- see Carville Papers, box 0018, file 020.
27. See Morton Grodzins, Americans Betrayed: Politics and the Japanese Evacuation (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1969), for the role of public input on the California evacuation.
28. Thirteenth Census of the United States, 1910: Population, 111:2, 86.29. National Archives, Census Manuscripts, Thirteenth Census of the United States, 1910: Nevada.
84 Andrew B. Russell
30. Kito, "The Japanese," 4-5.
31. National Archives, Census Manuscripts, Fourteenth Census of the United States, 1920 Nevada. Vol. 1. A significant part of railroad construction and maintenance in Nevada between 1900 and 1910, the Japanese rapidly declined (though they did not disappear) from the important industry thereafter. There are signs that opposition from organized labor contributed to the decline in some areas of the state, but a general decline in the railroad work force also affected the decrease. Hunley, as a case in point, seems to have disappeared soon after diesel trains replaced steam driven ones.
32. Kito, "The Japanese," 5-6; also see Masakazu Iwata, Planted in Good Soil: A History of the Issei in United States Agriculture (2 vols., Peter Lang: New York, 1992) II, 624.
33. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Fourteenth Census of the United States, 1920: Agriculture. VI:3 (Washington, D.C., 1922), 274.
34. Census Manuscripts, 1920 Nevada. Col. 1 -- with help from Masa and "friends" on "decoding" census listings. A letter from Tomomi Ito to the author (hereafter "Letter from Ito") for Endow's experiences: and, Kito, "The Japanese" for the failure of Sasaki's first farm.
35. Census Manuscripts, 1920 Nevada. Vol. 1
36. For $17,500 in cash from Morton Morrison -- see Kito, "The Japanese," 13.
37. "Letter from Ito."
38. For other concerned communities, their reactions to Fallon situation, and legislative debate on ownership restrictions see Lovelock Review-Miner (hereafter, LRM), 6 February 1920; 20,27 August 1920; 3 September 1920; 21 January 1921; 11 March 1921; 5 May 1921. These citations (and several other herein) were graciously provided by Phillip I. Earl of the Nevada Historical Society. Efforts to restrict Japanese land ownership rights also surfaced in subsequent legislative years, but those too were unsuccessful, according to a study in progress by Nevada historian Elmer Rusco.
39. Kito, "The Japanese," 13 and Churchill County Eagle, 5 March 1921.
40. FS, 16, 19, 23 March 1921.
41. "Letter from Ito."
42. Kito, "The Japanese," 12, and "Letter from Ito."
43. Kito, "The Japanese," 23-26. Tomomi Ito thinks the Vannoy family,
Japanese in Churchill County 85
mentioned below, was the first to start raising Hearts of Gold Cantaloupes locally.
44. Ibid., 16-20.
45. This and most of the following information was gathered from recent telephone conversations between the author and Kito and Ito family members, including Masakatsu Kito, Haru Kito Koto, Mary M. Kito Arita, Masa Kito Fujitani and Tomomi Ito. Part of the composite picture is drawn from Kito, "The Japanese," and some is from information sheets gathered at a recent Kito-Ito family reunion. Names used in the text generally reveal the sources and footnotes are used sparingly in this segment.
46. For more on the school boys and the first ripple of Japanese immigration, see Ichioka, The Issei.
47. The Japanese were both the source and the demise of anti-miscegenation laws, see, Phillip I. Earl, "Blood Will Tell: A Short History of Nevada's Miscegenation Laws," which is scheduled for re-issue in the Nevada Historical Quarterly.
48. Kito, "The Japanese."
49. Sixteenth Census, 1940, Population. 11:4, 753.
50. Kito, "The Japanese," 27.
51. Haru Kito Koto, telephone interview with the author, 6 February 1994.
52. The hearings were informal and closed to the public, and if records were kept they have not been located.
53. FS, 10 December 1941.
54. FS, 31 December 1941; 21 January 1942.
55. Mary Kito Arita, telephone interview with the author, 22 January 1994.
56. Conversations between Kito and Ito family members and the author.
57. FS, 10 December 1941.
58. Conversations between Kito and Ito family members and the author.
59. Mary Kito Arita, telephone interview with the author, 22 January 1994. Generalities are from the author's published and unpublished studies. Also see the collection of interviews by Noriko Kunitomi, Oral History Program, University of Nevada, Reno.
60. An expanded account of these events can be found in a previous article by the author, "Friends, Neighbors, and 'Enemy-Invaders:' Conflicting Images and Experiences of the Japanese in Nevada During World War II," which will be in a file at Special Collections, University of
86 Andrew B. Russell
Nevada Las Vegas. The quotes herein are from the Sparks Tribune, 3 March 1942, NSJ, 8, 24, 28 March 1942, and from the Papers of Governor Carville.
61. FS, 4 February 1942.62. FS, 18 February 1942.
63. "Why Pick On Nevada?" FS, 4 March 1942.
64. FS, 11 February 1942.
65. FS, 25 March 1942; 1 April 1942.
66. Bernice and Frank Kusunoki, letter to the author, 5 February 1994.
67. Thanks again to the Ito and Kito families, particularly Haru who produced the award letter from high school superintendent, Walter D. Johnson.
68. Kito, "The Japanese," 21. Also see Russell, "A Fortunate Few," for McCarren's interest in southern Nevada Japanese agriculture.
69. The Kitos remember, for instance, a hostile woman coming to the farm days after Pearl Harbor raving about how the green beans were not fresh. Mesdames Kito and Ito just kept repeating, "thank you so much." until the woman bought an extra bushel and left. Haru Kito sang at the Junior-Senior Prom in 1945, according to her conversations with the author.
70. Kito, "The Japanese," 27.
71. Kusunoki, letter to the author, 5 February 1994.
NATIVE AMERICAN PERSPECTIVE
A Prayer for Grandmother
Author Unknown
Your spirit will be with us for eternity but your presence will be missing.
Your happy smile that you gave always received another.
You were loved by all, by all that you dearly loved.
Your many days with us will always live in our minds forever ...
Although your feet won't walk upon Mother Earth
Your voice will carry in the wind and your spirit guided by the eagle,
And watched over by Grandmother moon who watches over all
native women ...
Who are our strength, the backbone of our nation.
I pray Grandfather Spirit ...
That you are safe in the spirit world.
I am sure that your visits to us, in prayers
Will bring unity, understanding,
And good health to the people.
You were a part of creation,
A being in the circle of life
Such as the four leggeds,
The winged ones, and the two leggeds,
And those that crawl and swim ... a part of Mother Earth.
Now you return to her again
We are like the sunrise, a new becoming,
And like the sunset, a beautiful memory of all creation.
You've experienced the Indian way of life ...
May we all return when the rainbow can be seen across the star.
So that we walk in balance and in harmony
With all the great spirit has given us.
And that we become one ... all my relations!
Ed. Note: This poem was recited at the funeral of Eva Cushman Williams. Its spiritualism symbolizes the love and esteem with which Native American women honor their mothers and grandmothers.
87
PIONEER PORTRAITS
Random Ranch Recollections
1920-1925
G. F. "Kelly" Engle
The following information concerning Kelly Engle was received from his daughter, Mary Lou Gross:
Glenn F. "Kelly" Engle (1892-1980)
G. F. "Kelly" Engle was born in Indiana in 1892. He and his family emigrated to California where his father received his Ph.D. from the University of California. The family eventually settled in Auburn, California.
Dad's love affair with Nevada began when he attended the University of Nevada. He graduated with a degree in Civil Engineering and later a Master's degree in Civil Engineering. His first job was with the U.S. Reclamation Department working on Lahontan Dam. At this time he headquartered in Fallon where he met and married our mother, Ruth Williams, a lovely, loving and patient woman. She was a life-long resident of Fallon. Her father, George Budd Williams, had crossed the country in a covered wagon and finally settled in Fallon.
Mother and Dad homesteaded in the Soda Lake District for a period of time until Dad was offered a job by the Mexican government. They sold the ranch and Dad moved mother and us four children into Fallon where we lived until Dad's return from Mexico a year later.
In 1926 after Dad's return, we all moved to Carson City where Dad was Deputy State Engineer. After four years a different political party was elected and the country was in a deep depression. At that period, Dad accepted a job with the state of California where he was, as we always said, "a dam engineer." His position was with the Department of Water Resources, Division of Dams. He was their resident expert on earth filled dams.
88
Ranch Recollections 89
Years later when my brothers and sister and I were launched in our adult lives, Mother and Dad purchased a small travel trailer. This was the beginning of their nomad period. They wintered in Guaymas, Mexico, and during summers toured every one of the then 48 states. They also made extensive tours of England, Ireland and Scotland during these years.
They finally settled in Wickenburg, Arizona. Dad soon became the unofficial resident historian of that community. They loved Arizona and left it only to spend their last years with us in the Sacramento area.
Dad was a wonderfully interesting personality. We loved Fallon and although he was not a native, he probably knew more about its history than most of its natives. He died in 1980 and we still miss his story telling and deep interest in everything about him.
From the Churchill County Eagle, Saturday June 28, 1919:
Williams Engle Nuptials Solemnized
by Rev. Brewster Adams on Wednesday
A very impressive ceremony was performed at the home of Rev. Brewster Adams in Reno Wednesday at 1 o' clock, June 25th, when Miss Ruth Williams became the bride of Mr. Glenn F. Engle.
Miss Margaret Dolf was maid of honor and Mr. Earl Borchert of Vallejo, California best man.
The bride was most attractive in her traveling suit of blue serge, which she wore with a chic hat.
Mrs. Engle is the charming daughter of Mr. and Mrs. G.Budd Williams. She is a graduate of the Churchill County High school and a favorite among the younger set.
Mr. Engle is a graduate of the University of Nevada, 1916 class. He is a civil engineer and at present in the service of the U.S.R.S. Since his residence in Fallon he has been considered one of the popular young men. Their hosts of friends wish them happiness and success.
Immediately after the wedding Mr. and Mrs. Engle departed for Lake Tahoe and Auburn to enjoy a two weeks' vacation. Upon their return they will occupy their newly acquired home on South Maine Street, where they will be at home after July IS.
90 G. F. "Kelly" Engle
Ruth Williams Engle about 1912. Glenn F. "Kelly" Engle in his World War I
(Churchill County Museum & uniform. (Churchill County Museum &
Archives Photo Collection) Archives Photo Collection)
RANCH RECOLLECTIONS
(Glenn F. "Kelly" Engle's Memoir)
After being discharged from the army on December 24, 1918 at Camp Humphries, Virginia, I returned to Fallon, Nevada to resume my job as engineer with the U.S. Reclamation Service. On June 25, 1919, I married Ruth Williams, a native of Fallon and one of the sweetest and prettiest girls in Lahontan Valley. We set up housekeeping in a five roomed bungalow, across from the Churchill County High School, which I had purchased prior to our wedding. About this time a land boom developed in the Lahontan Valley. Agriculture was in its heyday. Alfalfa hay, the principal crop, was selling for $20.00 a ton, and there was a mad scramble for land on the Truckee Carson Reclamation Project. The Southern Pacific Railroad had thrown on the market land in every odd [numbered] section, which it owned by virtue of a grant from the U.S. Government of a strip 20 miles [wide] on either side of the newly constructed railroad, a subsidy to promote the construction of its road to the Pacific Coast. The terms of the sale were 10% down, the balance to be paid in 10 annual installments with 8% interest on the unpaid balance. The price of the land varied according to its desirability for agriculture and ranged from 2 or 3 dollars
Ranch Recollections 91
to 10 or 12 dollars an acre.
The banks were prosperous and had plenty of money which they were anxious to lend so loans were easy to come by. The Peoples' Bank of Sacramento, California, among others, established a loan office in Fallon and appointed Fred Stasburg, a local mining broker and real estate operator, as its representative. Things were hectic! It seemed that, almost overnight, everybody became land crazy, clamoring not only for newly opened railroad lands but for undeveloped Farm Units, so called by the U.S. Reclamation Service who had developed and were operating the Irrigation Project.
I was bitten by the land bug as was practically everyone. By the nature of our occupation, we engineers of the Reclamation Service had a detailed familiarity with the lands of the Project. My immediate superior was Dean Stuver, Office Engineer, whose brother Earl was a Chief of Field Party. Before the land boom commenced, we had known, and coveted, a tract of raw railroad lands a mile or so north of the Soda Lakes. This area had not yet been opened to settlement by the Reclamation Service, although it was included in the original boundaries of the Irrigation Project. There were three contiguous 80 acre tracts most of whose area was topographically flat lying and susceptible to land leveling for irrigation. The soil was a deep, sandy loam, ideal for raising alfalfa.
It didn't take us long to enter into a joint venture to acquire and develop the tracts. We contracted with the S. P. Railroad to purchase the land at a price of $2.50 to $6.50 an acre. Earl Stuver agreed to quit his job with the Reclamation Service and develop the "Ranch," financed by his brother Dean and me from our salaries. We built a 16 by 18 foot board and batten cabin, put down a well, bought four horses and an old saddle mare, a hay wagon, and hired a hand to help Earl, who moved on to the place and went to work fencing the three 80's and levelling the land into rectangular checks for planting and irrigating crops.
The well was drilled to a depth of 12 feet when a good flow of water was struck, but it had a high mineral taste. A sample which I sent for analysis to the University of Nevada showed that it contained epsom salts, making it unpalatable but harmless to humans and animals. The stock drank it but domestic water was hauled in from town in ten gallon milk cans. We also hauled in hay from ranches down on the river and paid $20.00 in the stack for it. Dean and I spent all our spare time, weekends and holidays, helping Earl on the ranch. Finally 90 acres were levelled for
92 G. F. "Kelly" Engle
planting and irrigation. We planted alfalfa, with barley as a cover crop. The planting was successful, and we soon had one of the finest stands of alfalfa on the Project.
In the first days of development of the Project the Government had constructed canals and laterals in marginal lands such as ours which had never been opened to settlement, but over the years these ditches had been filled in by blowing sand and almost obliterated. One of these was called the "Q" Line lateral which extended from the main "T" Line canal to the S.W. corner of our ranch. The Reclamation Service restored the Q Line lateral so that we could receive delivery of irrigation water, which was supplied from the ditch rider upon call.
One of my schoolmates at the U. of N. had been John Earl Borchert, a German boy from White Pine County, who had left his home at Cherry Creek to become an apprentice mechanic in the railroad shops at Sparks, Nevada. He had not graduated from high school but was ambitious to get a higher education, so he enrolled at the U. of N. as a special student in engineering who hoped to make up his high school deficiencies and eventually graduate, which he did the year after I graduated in 1917. He was a prodigious worker scholastically. He was shy and self effacing so my cronies and I took him under our wings and helped him get oriented to college life. He, likewise, looked after us, keeping us out of trouble and looking after our finances. He played an old-time fiddle and the mandolin. In his senior year he was a student assistant in the department of physics and graduated on the honor roll.
Eventually the Stuver brothers lost much of their ranching enthusiasm, and we fell into financial straits. My pal Borchert had indicated his desire to be my partner in the ranching venture. So I borrowed $2,000.00 from the Peoples' Bank of Sacramento and another $2,000.00 from my father and bought the Stuvers out, putting up my equity in our honeymoon bungalow in Fallon as part of the deal. So Borchart and I took over the ranching project; he devoted all his time to ranching operations while I continued my job with the Reclamation Service to supply what financing I could.
I'll never forget the day we moved out to the ranch, with all our belongings on the hay wagon. Out first project was to enlarge the ranch shack by the addition of a bedroom for Ruth and me and the children, a cubby hole for Borchert, and a screened porch on two sides. We did it all ourselves with board and batten construction. Ruth helped by clinching
Ranch Recollections 93
the nails used to secure the battens over the cracks between the boards. I put up a two-holed outhouse privy and we excavated an underground cellar for storage and, later on, the Sharpless cream separator.
We soon tired of drinking the epsom salts water so had the well driller deepen the well. He cased off the salts water and stuck a stratum of good sweet water at a depth of 80 feet. We installed a gasoline engine and pump and piped water out to the corrals, enclosed a house yard and garden patch with a woven wire fence to keep the children out of the irrigation ditches, and planted cottonwood trees. There was not another house in sight until a neighbor moved in about a mile east of us. At first, we had no telephone. Sometime later, the local telephone company ran a line in from the highway. The children spent a lot of time with their ears against the poles to hear the humming of the wires. We had no electricity.
Ruth's uncle, Will Williams, sold us a young milk cow from his herd. Her name was Helen, and she was the best milker of the several we subsequently acquired. We often thanked uncle Will for her and we know he sold her at a very low price.
One of our first acquisitions was a 1914 Model T Ford which had been converted to a pickup. It had a brass bound radiator and hard rubber rear tires. We were sure its engine was the best Ford had ever turned out. And it was fast, with a top speed of 37 miles an hour. I would drive it to work in the morning after doing my morning chores and return in the evening with supplies, frequently with coal which was the only fuel we had for our kitchen stove. On the way to town I would pick up Johnny Beerjohn, a local barber who lived on a farm several miles from town. In appreciation of this service, he gave me an old 97 Model Winchester 12 gauge shotgun which had belonged to his father. This came in handy for duck hunting on the potholes near the ranch.
The road to the ranch for the last two miles was only an unfenced track through the desert. We had broken it to wind and twist around sandy hummocks and pothole depressions. It was so sandy and rutted that I would have to leave the pickup at the bridge over the T Line canal and trudge in the rest of the way, carrying what supplies I could on my back. However, before long, Borchert hauled in clay from the adjacent playa flats to mix with the sand in the worst stretches, thus making the road passable for the car.
For a period, before the road was made passable, when we wanted to take in a Fallon dance, I would mount Ruth on the old saddle mare with
94 G. F. "Kelly" Engle
her bag containing her dancing shoes and etc. and lead the mare out to the T-Line canal bridge where the pickup was parked. We would tether the horse, transfer to the car and ride on to town, returning home after the dance by a reverse process. I was reminded of Joseph leading Mary into Jerusalem on a donkey.
Glenn Jr. was born April 11, 1920 at the Fallon hospital; John on Nov. 7, 1921 at Ruth's parents' ranch near Fallon; Mary Lou (Twinkle) on Dec. 4, 1923 at the same place; and Marjorie Claire (Tiny) on Dec. 7, 1924 at the home of my parents at Auburn, California.
Children of Ruth and Kelly Engle about 1926. Left to right,
Mary Lou (Twinkle), Marjorie Claire (Tiny), Glenn Jr. and John.
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
Living the pioneer life we did, it was remarkable that during our ranching experience in the years 1920-1926, I don't remember ever going to a doctor, certainly for no serious illness. We were all remarkably
healthy.
Ranch Recollections 95
Borchert -- that's all we ever called him -- was mighty patient and good with the children. One or more would follow him around at his work. Once in a while he would become provoked, like once when he was digging post holes for a new corral. The boys insisted that they be lifted down into every newly dug hole. Finally, in exasperation, he tucked them under his arms and delivered them to Ruth at the house, asking her to keep better watch over her kids so he could accomplish something. Ruth was pregnant much of our first years, and Borchert was always so helpful and considerate, such as helping her with the family wash which was done in a washtub with a scrubbing board.
We never had toilet facilities in the ranch house. Domestic water was carried in by bucket full from an elevated tank at the well, which was kept filled by the gas engine powered pump. We bathed in a galvanized wash tub on Saturday night with spit baths in between. During the irrigation season, Ruth and I would go out after dark and bathe in the canal which was full much of the time.
The deadly 40-mile desert of pioneer fame, from Lovelock to Ragtown on the Carson River, passed through a corner of the ranch. I knew of its history and had explored it on horseback, finding many interesting relics of that tragic last lap of the pioneer trek before they reached water. So we decided to call our place "Emigrant Ranch," by which name it was afterward known.
As we acquired more livestock, which we ranged on the surrounding desert, we selected a brand which was duly recorded and registered in the [Nevada] Brand Book at Carson City, the Capitol -- and still is -- as the Flying Heart. We had a branding iron made and branded all our animals.
We had many little episodes to remember. One time, Ruth discovered a snake in Borchert's little bedroom. It had crawled through a hole in the floor from under the house. It was only a harmless gopher snake but it scared her as much as would a rattler. She bravely got a shovel and killed it. You can bet I patched up that hole in the floor.
Incidents involving our four little ones remain vividly in memory. One time, Twinkle came toddling in from the yard in a state of excitement and told her mother that John had fallen down the privy. Rushing out, Ruth found John jackknifed in the larger adult hole which he had decided to try instead of the smaller children's hole. He was scared stiff and yelling blue murder until he was extracted.
96 G. F. "Kelly" Engle
One time Ruth looked out the door and saw little Twinkle perched at the top of a long ladder leaning against the hay stack. The chubby rascal had wormed her way to the top and there she sat, happily contemplating her feat. Ruth yelled for Borchert who came in from the nearby corral and brought her down safely. Another time, Ruth had opened a can of shrimp and John was curious and interested. She told him a shrimp was not much different from a worm. Sometime later she found him in the cellar entrance in busy concentration. When she asked him what in the world he was doing, he answered, "I was watching a shrimp." He had discovered a big, hairy caterpillar.
One Sunday morning I was taking pictures of the children. When it came Twinkle's turn she wouldn't stand still and about the time I was ready to snap a picture she would toddle toward me so I would have to back up and refocus. She backed me clear around the house before I could finally get her to stand still.
We answered an advertisement in the San Francisco Examiner for a three-tube battery operated Crosley Radio, with a disc speaker and ear phones. I think it cost only $8.00 or $10.00 but it was a honey. In our isolated location, 11 miles from town, there were no power lines or other disturbing factors to create static interference. Of an evening, we could bring in Clearwater, Florida and other far distant stations. In the daytime, we had to use the earphones. On Saturday afternoons, during football season, I would broadcast the action. Brochert and I would have to start the milking before the games were over. Ruth would take over the earphones and from time to time scribble notes of its progress and send them out to the milking shed by Tiny, who felt very important to be acting as messenger. She would make a bee line across the corral, kicking in the ribs of any cow lying in her path, until it struggled to its feet and got out of her way.
Coyotes and jackrabbits were common to the area and existed in a state of natural balance. The coyote's chief diet was rabbits, and they kept the rabbit population in bounds. Then, at the insistence of the sheep and cattlemen, the Government sent in hunters to poison and otherwise exterminate the coyotes. With their natural enemy decimated, the rabbits, which were prolific reproducers, multiplied so rapidly that they became a menace to agriculture. They moved in around the boundaries of our fields and fed on the alfalfa as rapidly as it grew. The conditions grew so serious that we appealed to the County Agent for advice, but received none of
Ranch Recollections 97
practical value. Our loss in hay production became a serious matter. Then mother nature stepped in to restore her balance. An epidemic of tularemia, a rodent disease, swept through the rabbit population and they died in countless number. A characteristic of the disease is that the victims acquire a frantic thirst and seek water in a frenzy, and after quenching it, they almost immediately die. Thus the irrigation canals and laterals were choked with their carcasses, which floated out on our fields during irrigation periods and created a nauseating stench. The coyote population increased to normal to feed upon the rabbits, and the balance of nature was again restored.
We thought we ought to have some turkeys so we built up a small flock. They fed in the alfalfa field and roosted in the barnyard and on the wagons and other farm equipment. But the coyotes would come in at night and filch a bird or two. Someone told us to fire a shotgun after the birds had gone to roost, and leave the gun out all night; the smell of the powder would keep the coyotes away. We tried it, and, by golly, it worked.
With the introduction of irrigation into the area, depressions or "potholes" gradually filled with water and ducks and other wildlife came to inhabit them. There was an evening and morning flight from one pothole to another and frequently I would bring down birds in our yard.
In the early morning the coyotes would howl almost under the windows of our bedroom. We didn't mind and in fact enjoyed their matutinal serenade.
Soon after our advent into the new Soda Lake district, other settlers were attracted and established themselves in rather widely scattered locations, none very near us except one, the Meister place half a mile down the road to the east. Subsequently Ruth's brother and wife, Roy and Hazel Williams, bought from the Meisters and moved into their place. A move was started to build a community hall [1922]. This was done, at a site some three miles to the east of us, with donated labor, and served as a recreational and meeting place for the district. Frequently, Saturday night pot luck dinner and dances were held and sometime friends from town would come out to join in. Borchert and I furnished the dance music, he on the mandolin and I on the guitar. Borchert and I had belonged to the Mandolin Club in college. Neither of us were expert but we enjoyed playing and knew most of the old time two steps and waltzes. Our efforts were somewhat crude but the dancers stomped and hollered and clamored for encores. They could afford to for our services were free. Ruth parked
98 G. F. "Kelly" Engle
the kiddies under the tables which had been moved against the walls after dinner and they were soon lulled to sleep. Borchert and I sat on one long table to dispense the music. This was in prohibition days but there always seemed to be plenty of "white mule" outside the hall. The dance didn't break up until almost dawn when we had to get back to our places for milking and the morning chores.
There wasn't much snow in the winter but the weather could get very cold and the ground frozen. Hoar frosts were not uncommon. We burned coal in the kitchen stove and heated the bedrooms with coal oil heaters. We lighted with Coleman gasoline lanterns and one large table lamp. During the period when I was still working with the Reclamation Service in Fallon, when arriving home from town, I would jack up a hind wheel of the little pickup and drain the radiator preparatory to starting the car the next morning. After helping with the milking and other chores, I would fill the radiator with hot water and pour it over the carburetor. Self starters were unknown in those days and the hand cranking was sometimes quite a chore. If, and when, the engine started, I would remove the jack from the rear wheel and set out for town, bundled up in a sheepskin coat, with a wool muffler protecting my face. About a mile from the ranch I would stop at Thein's place, new neighbors who had recently settled in the district, to pick up their 15 year old daughter [Julia] who was attending high school in town.
On one particular morning, Ruth had warned me that the coal supply was about exhausted and to be sure and bring home a load. As usual, I picked up Julia and delivered her to high school on my way to work. At noon, I loaded the pickup with coal. After work, I picked up Julia and we started for home. All day the weather had been cold and threatening and before long it started to snow and blow with increasing intensity. Before we reached the turnoff from the main highway to the ranch, the ground was covered with snow and the gale had developed into a howling blizzard. It was bitter cold and the wind swept down out of the north with increasing intensity. Visibility was almost nil but we managed to reach the bridge on the T Line canal. From there, the road was only a rutted trail, but it was completely obliterated by the increasing snow cover and there were no side fences to keep us in bounds. I was completely lost and the car was bumping over sand hummocks and rocking crazily. Visibility was absolute zero and we were numb with cold. Suddenly the car action smoothed out. It labored on for a short distance, stopped, and we could
Ranch Recollections 99
feel it sinking under us. I realized we had emerged onto a playa flat and broken through its surface crust, not yet frozen enough to support the car's weight. We were completely mired down. I admit I was as near panicked as I have ever been. No visibility, no land marks, no fences, but I did know that our places were to the north and that the blizzard was coming out of the north. So we set out facing directly into the storm. I trudged ahead to give Julia what protection I could. She was a big strong girl who had a lot of courage and common sense. Otherwise, it is probable I would not be writing this now. After what seemed an interminable time, and purely by the grace of providence, we stumbled against a barb wire fence and realized we had miraculously reached her home. Talk about divine providence! Julia's parents were frantic with worry for their only child and set about thawing us out. They insisted that I wait until the storm had subsided but I knew my folks would be equally worried, so, filled with hot coffee, I left for our home a mile further on. The storm had abated somewhat and visibility was increased so I made that last mile somehow.
The next day dawned bright and clear and the country was blanketed with snow. I stayed home from work and Borchert and I hooked up the team and wagon and pulled the car out of the mire. So I got the load of coal home and just in time, for the last lump of our supply had been burned.
The Fourth of July, probably 1923 or 1924, was a memorable one, made so by two guests, Dutch Masters and Si Krummes, old mates at the University of Nevada. We three had been inseparable companions during college days. After graduating in mining engineering in 1916, Dutch got his first job with the Canadian Carborundum Company at Shawinigan Falls, Quebec, Canada and was still with them as Plant Superintendent. This was his first visit back home in the intervening period. Si had left college before graduation because of girl trouble and enlisted in the army in World War I where he remained for the duration. This was our first get together since college days, and what a reunion it was! We had no guest accommodations in our small ranch home, so we parked them in sleeping bags out near the hay stacks. On the morning of the Fourth, Borchert, in waggish mood, had donned the swallow tailed coat of his old college days dress suit. I had brought out cakes of ice from town, and we whipped up several freezers of home made ice cream during the day. This was still in the prohibition era, so I had secured from our favorite bootlegger a supply of "white mule." We had no fireworks but at intervals during the day
100 G. F. "Kelly" Engle
would detonate half sticks of dynamite tied to the branches of sagebrush bushes. Neighbors from miles away reported that it sounded like another war had broken out. Even people in town said they heard the explosions. Ruth had baked a large turkey for the occasion.
Dutch had been in the Mandolin Club in college but had not played since. So with Dutch and Borchert on the mandolins and I on the guitar we soon whipped up quite a trio. Si joined in by drumming on a 5 gallon oil can. So with food, drink, music, cannonading and reminiscing, the day passed all too quickly. A good time was certainly had by all!
Well, as Bobby Burns said, "The best laid plans of mice and men ... etc." We had improved the ranch, and its alfalfa hay production was above average in quantity and quality. But then fate took over. An agricultural depression developed. The price of hay dropped from $20.00 to $4.00 per ton. At this price, we could not survive and meet the operation and maintenance charges the government imposed on every acre of irrigable land, whether under production or not. So we decided to go into the dairy business and market our hay by cream production. The price of dairy products was still good, not having responded to the drastic drop in prices for other agricultural products. So, after building a milking shed with 12 stanchions, and with the advice of the county farm agent, we purchased 25 Holstein dairy cows and a Sharpless cream separator and went into the dairy business. They were good cows as attested by the fact that their production was high on the list of the local cream association. We sold the cream to a large dairy outfit who operated in Fallon. We milked by hand. I was a good milker, having considerable boyhood experience. I could milk on an average 12 cows an hour. Borchert was not quite as fast. Under this new setup, all my time was needed on the ranch so I quit my job with the Reclamation Service. Although our revenues increased, they were still not sufficient to meet our fixed charges and loan obligations so we reluctantly realized we were licked and would have to dispose of the ranch.
We found a buyer in a Basque gentleman bootlegger named Saval who planned to turn the ranch production over from alfalfa to"Hearts of Gold" cantaloupe, from which he would make a new type of whiskey. He subsequently built a large underground still. But his clients did not take kindly to the taste and flavor of this new type of whiskey and Mr. Saval had trouble disposing of his product, so he abandoned the ranch and went back to his former occupation of running illicit liquor in from Canada.
Ranch Recollections 101
At about the time we decided to dispose of the ranch, I got an unexpected offer from the Mexican Government as office engineer on the Rio Mante Irrigation Project being constructed in the State of Tamaulipas. The salary offered was much higher than I could expect from the Reclamation Service, so I accepted and set about winding up our business affairs. I moved the family into a rental house [265 Russell St.] in Fallon, and got Ruth a new Model A Ford coupe -- one of the first of a new series with self starter and Ruxtel Axle transmission. She called it "Little Linc." Borchert returned to California to seek a job and I set out for Mexico to begin a new chapter in my life.
Growing Up In Silver Creek
Hilda Cadet Zaugg
On April 13, 1919, in Battle Mountain, Nevada, before my frantic father could locate the only doctor in town, I was born.
A month after my birth my mother and I joined my father at Hall Creek. This ranch, which was to be my home until I was sixteen, was situated in a desolate area of Nevada about forty miles from Austin, the nearest town, and seven miles from the closest neighbors. After an interval of three years my sister, Josephine, was born and a year later my brother, Frank.
After trying several cooks, the last being dismissed for drinking, my mother managed the cooking for the ranch. Sometimes at haying and shearing time she had as many as forty or fifty men to feed. Besides the cooking, she had three small children and the house to look after.
As there was no school at the ranch, when I was six years old, I was sent to my aunt, a very stern person with seven grown sons and daughters of her own, to go to school. Having been petted by the workmen and my father, I found life with her much different. My first experience with discipline came from a tired school teacher, who, irritated by my constant whispering with a black haired friend, slapped me on the mouth. Rebelling at this, I became the leader of a number of first grade boys and girls, and we became the terror of the neighborhood. We threw rocks at the other children, marked windows, pulled hair, and practiced every other form of primitive cruelty devised by children.
One afternoon after school, as most of the children were going to the show that night, I ran home to ask permission of my aunt. At her refusal, I dashed into the bedroom and sulked on the bed. All my friends could go. I knew from experience that it would do no good to ask again. Thinking this over, I suddenly jumped up and ran to my pal Joan's house to launch plans. That night after dishes were put away and my aunt had gone into the living room, I went into my bedroom, tossed my coat out of the window to Joan, who was waiting for it, and bravely walked through the
102
Growing Up In Silver Creek 103
kitchen, then out by the back door. I joined her and together we went to the movie.
Enthralled with the shooting taking place on the screen, I jumped at a slight touch on my shoulder. Silently I took my aunt's hand and reluctantly followed her out. Behind me I could hear the whispering of my friends.
As the doors of the theater closed, my aunt silently took me by the shoulders and shook me. Humiliated, I pierced the quietness of the night with my lusty screams until we had reached the house, where I was again shaken and put to bed, accompanied by scolding from my aunt. For one solid month, all privileges were taken from me. In spite of the taunting and ridicule of my former friends, I obeyed my aunt, having learned that it was better to obey than to be punished.
After being ostracized by my former friends I became attached to an older girl, about 12, who had taken pity on me. One day she accidentally stepped on my foot and said, "Pardon Me." This impressed me very deeply and for some time, in fact whenever possible, I also said, "Pardon Me."
At the,end of that school year, I returned to the ranch loaded with candy and cookies, which I had hoarded. My younger brother and sister looked at me with awe, as I had been away to school. My lessons on behavior were soon forgotten. A tyrant is mild compared to the kind of leader I became over them. Only when they had especially pleased me did they get any of the sweets I had brought with me. Through encouragement from the workmen, they organized against my regime and I was overthrown.
The summer quickly ended and my sister and I were sent to live with my father's partner at Silver Creek, some forty miles from home. Life on the whole with Mrs. Laborde was very pleasant. With staring eyes and straining ears, we listened to her quiet voice telling of fascinating tales from the Arabian Nights and from her own country. Never cross or too busy to play with us, she taught us French folk dances and made a game out of table manners. All fun ceased, however, when her husband came home at nights, tired from the day's work. He believed children should be seen and not heard; we learned how to play quietly.
Another school year ended, and Josephine and I were loaded with our numerous possessions into a car. Laughing and joking most of the way we became solemn as we neared our home. Swinging on an old gate, we saw two little round faced boys dressed in coveralls. The truck stopped and crying with excitement, Josephine and I greeted our brother and a little friend of his. We were home.
104 Hilda Cadet Zaugg
When all three of us children were ready for school, we all moved to Hot Springs, some twenty miles from our home. That was a trying year for my mother. Huge pools of hot water dotted the ranch and among our school companions were three boys of our own age. These three boys were the toughest, hardiest boys to be found anywhere and we followed them around as puppies. We dodged mother incessantly, swam in the pools, waded in the icy spring waters, and tormented the horses. Our favorite form of torture was to drag ourselves around the corral by holding the tail of a horse. The end of living at this ranch came when my mother, attracted by wild screams, found me up to my neck in a pool of mud and still submerging. While trying to catch some frogs, I had toppled over into a hole about six feet in diameter. As the sides were almost vertical I couldn't get out. The greater effort exerted, the deeper in I found myself. Crying and screaming with terror, I scarcely noticed the approach of my mother, who soon had me out.
The next day when we returned home we children were sent to board in a neighbor's house, about seven miles from our home. In the winter dressed in overalls and hated woolen underwear, we rode four miles in a buggy, smothered with blankets, to the school, a stone building capable of holding forty children instead of the enrolled seven. Shivering with cold, we waited in the morning for the teacher to build a fire in the huge iron stove, situated in the middle of the room. All seats were huddled around this stove, and although we might be roasting in our seats, our lunches placed in the corner of the room would be frozen by noon. Miss Deets, our teacher, through frequent washing out of mouths with soap, soon helped us forget the swear words we had learned the previous year.
During the lunch periods we often fed our crumbs of bread to the bushy chipmunks, who frequented the yard of the school and often the building. Soon they were eating out of our hands and anyone caught tormenting the little animals was shunned by the rest of the children.
That year during the Christmas vacation I caught a slight cold. My mother put me to bed, but as she was busy with curing hams and bacons, I evaded her and got up. That night I became very ill. A doctor from Austin, persuaded with 100 dollars, finally came to see me. I had pneumonia. Afraid of moving me in the cold weather over the forty miles to town, my mother, with infrequent visits from the doctor and little medicine, nursed me throughout the month of my illness. When I was better I was given the book Robinson Crusoe by a friend. Although my father and Mrs. Laborde
Growing Up In Silver Creek 105
had told us many stories, this was my first experience with real reading. Enjoying the story very much, I read it over and over.
A school was finally started at our own home and fortunately the teacher had a good collection of books. Although I neglected my school subjects and nearly ruined my eyes from incessant reading under poor lights, I learned the joy of reading.
That next summer I was forbidden reading, because of my eyes, and I turned to horses. Taking a light lunch, my father and I often rode twenty or thirty miles a day through trees, over rocks and mountains, after cows.
I acquired "Babe," a bay colored, high spirited but usually gentle, reining horse. Every morning she pranced around the big corral turning, twisting, diving between horses, while I ran back and forth trying to catch her. Just when I was ready to give up, she paused and let me put a rope around her. I petted her white face, and, as she rubbed her head against me, I swelled with pride.
One morning, as we were galloping around a trail in the canyon Babe suddenly stopped and began bucking. I pitched over her head into a pile of brush. My head aching, I looked for Babe, and found her standing a few feet off, grazing unconcernedly. Shaking, but determined, I climbed back on her and rode home. Being afraid that my mother would take Babe away from me, I didn't mention this to her, although I did to my father who only said, "Next time don't get thrown off."
Several months later, Babe, becoming excited with running, took the bit in her teeth and, paying no attention to the tugging of her reins, ran away with me. As her feet pounded the earth, I finally gained courage; I looked up and noticed a large ditch in front. Babe couldn't possibly jump it. Both of us would be killed. Miraculously, I slipped my arms tightly around her neck and slid in front of her, weighing her head down with my weight. Babe stopped.
Some time later our horses contracted brain fever and Babe was among the first to die. That night in my father's arms, I cried myself to sleep.
Although in the winter several of the workmen brought their children for the school term, in the summer and early fall we had no companions our age. Throughout the summer we hiked, fished and often cooked our own dinners in an old herder's tent, set up for our pleasure at the back of the house.
In this old herder's tent anchored down with rocks, as the wind often blew fiercely, one night my brother, sister, and I played around the fire.
106 Hilda Cadet Zaugg
Trees were creaking; towering high into the clear moonlight, they cast deformed figures, dry and gaunt like skeletons on the frosty ground. Shadows flickered over the side of the tent.
Tiring of playing, we sat around the camp fire, Indian style, and told horrible stories, one after the other, exaggerated stories, told as only a child can tell a story -- stories that would cause more stalwart breasts than ours to shudder.
With eyes bright we listened, ears straining, correcting, and interrupting one another. Into the night our shrill laughter rang.
Soon we grew silent, tired and sleepy from the day's exertions, each hoping the other would make a suggestion to go home and each loathing to be the one.
Quietly we sat, gazing into the campfire. Suddenly terrified, I pointed and cried, "Look!"
Blanched, mouths agape, we gazed awestruck at a ghostly object that was creeping silently under the tent toward us.
Although we were hardy children, accustomed to the hardships of ranch life, we were ill with fright, unable to move. Was it a hallucination?
A shrill scream split the air, and my brother and sister tore throughout the flap opening. I fainted.
The workmen from a nearby ranch house ran out with flashlights and, finally deciphering my brother's and sister's babbling, came to the tent where I lay. After a few minutes I awoke from my coma and they searched for some animal that might have crawled under the tent. Not a foot print was to be seen, in spite of a thorough search. The rocks on the side of the tent were undisturbed. The figure was attributed to the shadows of the trees or of some wild animal attracted to the camp fire.
Night after night we refused to leave our tent unless accompanied by some older person. Afraid of the night, screaming with terror at our shadows, sometimes awaking with sweaty hands and pounding hearts, we were brave and tough by day but night found us cowards. Even today unusual shadows at night terrify me.
Years passed and from a rather chubby youngster I evolved, at thirteen, to a tall awkward child. By this time I had completed grammar school and again I left home and went to live with my aunt. The children I had played with in the first grade had changed. They, with their make up and small talk, seemed grown up. I didn't understand their chatter, their interests, and, being shy and reserved, I was completely miserable in my freshman
Growing Up In Silver Creek 107
year. During showers in my sophomore years, I overheard a girl slandering her best friend. In a burst of anger I rebuked her; to my surprise, several girls, ones that I had wanted to become acquainted with, stood up for me. This led to a friendship among us that lasted throughout our high school years. Through their friendship I made other friends.
After what seemed a great many years I found myself graduating from high school. The auditorium was overflowing with proud parents. Flowers decked the sides of the room and as we solemnly marched to the stage to the music, tears filled my eyes. One part of my life was over. What was I going to do next? My father had wanted me to go on to the University, with my friends, but the depression had ruined him financially and my sister and brother still had high school to finish.
That summer, through the help of my English teacher, I found a job at a soda fountain. At the end of the summer through her help, I was able to borrow some money and fall found me at the University, taking a teacher's course.
CREATIVE FOCUS
The Bus At Six
Connie Philips Walters
Fallon' s "Consolidated B" school district's flashy new bus fleet waits on Maine Street for
passengers. Note the beautiful facades on the Eldridge & Hursh store and Palace Theatre
in this circa 1916 photo. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
The thrill of starting school was in itself heady, but the additional excitement of riding the bus with all the big kids caused fits of anticipation followed by fits of anxiety. The bus on which we rode had a sign along its side reading, "Consolidated B." In 1916, Soda Lake District had decided to forego the luxury of having their own school and teacher and voted to join the Fallon school system, thus solving a financial problem for both of them. This made it possible to pick up students along the highway for high school and grammar school between Soda Lake and town. In recognition of such an achievement, one of the music teachers had written a suitable song, memorializing it. Two years later, music classes were still singing, "Blow winds of the desert across a sagebrush sea, for we march to strength and wisdom from Consolidated B."
The school bus was usually driven by the oldest boy of driving age who lived the farthest from town. The bus was the depository of all sort of articles: lunch buckets (some of them containing the day's lunch); school
108
The Bus At Six 109
books from first grade to high school; assignments occasionally done but mostly claimed to have been completed and left on the bus. There was an assortment of clothing: jackets, sweaters, caps, mittens and gym clothes, the latter to be taken home and washed. Once in awhile, a baseball mitt was left behind, also jump ropes, stray jacks and marbles, which continued their errant way, playing their own game as they rolled back and forth under the seats as the bus stopped and started. There were eye glasses, unwanted and a nuisance (and someone always seemed to find them and return them). In later years, even an occasional musical instrument was held hostage by the bus, thus making it impossible to practice. There were precious mementos, too: a Mother's Day card which had been slaved over and, at the last minute, smeared so no longer considered worthy of the recipient; a May basket, painstakingly woven, with a broken handle because of too much paste, now stepped upon; precious works of art where the crayons went out of the lines in just a few places; a water color of flowers for Daddy. True, the colors ran a little, and then it was torn in trying to extricate it from behind the seat, so was left.
We were among the last to be picked up since we lived closest to town. The high school girls were welcome riders. They had laps -- often the only seat remaining. By the time the bus reached us, already on board were friends from farm families farther west.
Harold Fulkerson, who lived on Swingle Bench, was the driver when I first started riding. Many of the students I didn't know but among our friends were the Lucases: Ester Breeze, twins Keith and Kara, Arthur, Duane, and Blanche; Bottoms: Merle and Sandy; Heizers: Virginia and Nancy; McLeans: Louvena (Chapman) and Madeline; Aherns: Ignatius, Anna and Hughena, and James; Mareans: Margaret (Peggy Wheat), Bob and John; Yorks: Eugene, Margaret (Pilkington), Bernard, John, Anna, Jim, and Charles. The Yorks and Aherns were of special interest to us because they were referred to as double cousins. Mrs. York was Jim Ahern's sister and Mrs. Ahern was Joe York's sister. Other passengers were the Branches: Freda (Lokke), Theelan, Emory, and Aldene (King). Theelan and Emory had a radio receiver in the room above the pumphouse -- one of the very first crystal sets, and all the boys in the neighborhood wanted to learn how to build one. Although the Piazzas lived in the area known as Old River, they caught the bus where it stopped for us. The Piazza family consisted of Angelo, Marie, George, Italia, Bill, and Anna. Just across the bridge, we picked up Ivy Wallace (Ringstrom), my childhood playmate and friend through the years.
110 Connie Philips Walters
As we got ready for the bus, the morning was filled with anguish, tears and confrontations. Gremlins abounded. School books mysteriously disappeared as did homework. Lunch pails were often missing, although at one time, it seemed that problem had been solved. There was a black cardboard folding lunch box guaranteed never to be left behind because it fitted in so well with the books. But it was unsatisfactory -- no good at all for bopping smart alecky boys, and it seemed to get lost even more frequently than the tin ones. Complaints regarding the contents of the lunch box were many and frequent. The only hope was to find someone who would trade sandwiches more to one's liking. Mittens were no longer a pair, just unmatched singles. During the night, tangles developed in hair, and trying to comb out the little cotton balls from the flannel blankets and then braiding it brought howls of pain. Black stockings worn over long underwear occasionally developed holes where the white showed through. Not to worry. A dab of liquid Shinola shoe black was a solution, but it rarely stayed in place all day. Shoe laces were of two types: knotted, so the tine of a fork had to be used to get them untangled, or broken. Rarely was there ever a spare and, after being knotted together, they were usually too short to tie except with another knot. At the last minute, there was often a mad search for some small change which was supposed to have been arranged for the previous night. The final unnerving irritant was a blast from the school bus horn telling us we were late again. Departure and successful boarding of the bus brought a huge sigh of relief from both parent and rider.
First grade was a joyous experience. Mrs. Grant was our teacher and, although she was real old (probably 30), we adored her. She told wonderful stories, one of them about the little vowel sisters who were riding in a chariot atop a wall. The chariot fell off and the little girls all fell to the ground where they were hurt. They cried and cried. The mouth of one was shaped like an a, the others e, i, o, u and y. Suddenly a whole new world was opened. This was what reading was all about! As the year and the stories progressed, there were readers to take home and, at the end of the year, a program where our parents were treated to a display of our progress.
The year was 1918 and war time. We were each given a little American flag which we carried while marching behind Mrs. Grant singing, "Uncle Sammage you for service, Uncle Sammage you today. When he gives the call to arms, all oil hearts obey."* It made us feel wonderfully patriotic.
The Bus At Six 111
We were encouraged to buy saving stamps, and when the book was filled it could be turned in for a War Bond. I was 6 years old and beginning to feel I had some value. I was helping the war effort. I could read. I could write my name. I could catch the school bus at home and get on the right one to return. I found school exciting and looked forward to second grade.
The first year, along with the experience of riding the bus, was the most memorable of all my school years. Whenever I see a child starting school, I wish for it the joy I knew.
Ed. Note: Walters is teasing us with a semantic puzzle, where the ear plays tricks with the words. Another example is found in the story of the child who hears the beginning words to "The Star Spangled Banner" as "Jose, can you see," and wonders who Jose is. The words of Walter's song are:
Uncle Sam needs you for service.
Uncle Sam needs you today.
When he gives the call to arms.
All loyal hearts obey.
Museum information is sketchy, but it seems that in 1975, Mrs. Dorothy (Ernst) Cann found all the verses to the Consolidated "B" Song. She said the tune was written by school teacher Sheila O'Niell [sic], whose publishing name was Willie Hudson. The lyrics were written by the local music teacher, Harold "Choppy" Johnson. He came to Fallon in 1922 as a window dresser for Grey Reid's, on the southeast corner of Maine and Center Streets. An attractive young man in his twenties, Mr. Johnson took over the musical education of Churchill County youth at mid term, a position he held for many years.
Here is the entire Consolidated "B" Song:
Past stretches of alfalfa
Beneath a turquoise sky,
Past dairy barns and fields
Where yellow melons lie.
112 Connie Philips Walters
Chorus:
Blow winds of the desert
Across a sagebrush sea,
Where we match to strength and wisdom
From "Consolidated B."
Across a land of mystery,
Hemmed in by purple hills,
Along a path of glory
Where yellow sunshine spills.
Chorus:
Into the morning freshness
And groaning at the weight,
The great school buses come
All packed with human freight.
Chorus:
No isolated district
Pursues its lonely way,
Cooperative spirit
At last has come to stay.
Chorus:
Across the coming years
The deeds of man proclaim
That these, her Fallon children,
Shall lend Nevada fame.
Chorus:
Springmeyer's Sanitorium
Sally Springmeyer Zanjani
George Springmeyer (1881-1966) was born and raised in the Carson Valley, the son of pioneer German immigrant ranchers Herman and Wilhelmine Springmeyer. He graduated from the University of Nevada and Stanford law school and did postgraduate work at Harvard. In 1906, he joined the rush to booming Goldfield, where he served as deputy district attorney, leaving in 1911 for private practice in Carson City and Reno. From 1910 to 1914, he was one of the reform leaders in the Nevada Progressive movement but failed to win political office. Service with the American forces in France during World War I ensued. He became United States Attorney in 1922 during the Prohibition era, when the incident recounted here took place. Controversial water rights litigation on behalf of the farmers at the Newlands project and the Indians against large landholders upstream brought him to Churchill County. When he came under fire in the press for his stance, his answer revealed a good deal about his conception of his duties -- and something about the Springmeyer temper as well: "What a spectacle if a United States Attorney should neglect interests of the government and its reservation and project farmers! Do you expect a United States Attorney to act for the defendants? Since when have defendants who are being sued arrogated to themselves or been given the privilege of dictating who shall be United States Attorney?" After completing his term of office in 1926, Spingmeyer devoted himself to his law practice in Reno and to developing his father's former summer range, the present Indian Creek Ranch in Long Valley.
Ed. Note: The following is reprinted from Zanjani, Sally Springmeyer. The Unspiked Rail: Memoir of a Nevada Rebel; University of Nevada Press; 1982.
113
114 Sally Springmeyer Zanjani
SPRINGMEYER'S SANITORIUM
Past aged, sagging cottonwood trees that grew on either side of the lane and mingled in a low and leafy arch above it, my father rode into Fallon, a small farming town in the Lahontan Valley sixty-five miles east of Reno. He was collecting evidence for the government suit to settle the water rights on the Carson and Walker rivers. The issues in the case were both technical and complex, and several days were required to obtain the records, question the projects engineer, and examine the channels and ditches. One evening George thought he would "take a walk around town." In Fallon this was not an ambitious undertaking, and a brief stroll along the dusty, unpaved streets past stores with wooden front porches brought him to the little, white courthouse with the peak roofed, colonnaded facade. The only oddity that had caught his eye along the way was a large assemblage of idlers lounging about by the street. Greeting the courthouse janitor, he pointed to a brick edifice across the street, and asked, "What is that building over there where all those men are sitting around?"
"That's Springmeyer's Sanitorium," said the janitor, unaware of the stranger's identity.
"Why is it called Springmeyer's Sanitorium?" asked George curiously.
Shrouded by cottonwood trees, the Churchill County Courthouse and Jail stand across the street
from the W .W . Williams "brick edifice" building jokingly known as "Springmeyer's Sanitorium."
(Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection)
Springmeyer Sanitorium 115
"Well, you know George Springmeyer, the United States attorney?" said the janitor. George nodded. "He keeps the jails in Carson City and Reno and Minden full of Prohibitioners, so lately they've been sending the men down to the Fallon jail. Government pays us well for them, too. That's why we call it Springmeyer's Sanitorium."
"Is that right?" said George. It was true that it had been necessary to place federal prisoners in local jails to serve out their six months for Prohibition violations because there was no federal prison in Nevada. True, too, that the prison population was burgeoning during George's third year in office as total criminal convictions rose to nearly triple the number recorded during the last year of his predecessor's regime.
"Yep," chuckled the janitor, "it's a great joke on Springmeyer. He and the judge think the prisoners are being kept in jail, but they're just like free men. They sleep and eat on Uncle Sam, and the sheriff lets 'em out in the daytime to do anything they like."
George laughed heartily. "Isn't that a good one on Springmeyer?" he said.
"By gosh," said the janitor, "it's the great joke of the town." The two laughed and joked together, and George refrained from spoiling the fun by telling the janitor who he was, though he later curtailed it considerably by bringing contempt proceedings against the sheriff.
In court Sheriff Crane admitted that he used to go to the movies with his charges and allow them to roam about the Fallon shops and pool halls by day, although he absolutely denied joining in their poker games, the stakes being entirely too high. He bore no grudge against George for bringing legal action against him, and whenever the two men met on the streets of Reno, they had a good laugh about Springmeyer's Sanitorium.
SCIENTIFIC PERSPECTIVE
Silver Hill Camp:
Churchill County Historic Site
William C. Davis
Historic townsite of Silver Hill, Nevada. (William C. Davis Photo)
The historic townsite of Silver Hill is situated in the narrow, steep sloped IXL Canyon on the eastern slopes of the Stillwater Range in Churchill County, Nevada. Silver Hill was another early day mining town which experienced more than one period of feverish activity. Indeed, this was the case with a great many western mining camps. In the case of Silver Hill, silver ledges were first discovered in 1860 (assayed at $1,800/ton) and it was boasted that it was likely "another Comstock."
In the Spring of 1861, the actual townsite was laid out. Within a month, Silver Hill had 200 inhabitants and an "express stage line" to Virginia City. However, by June, the famed journalist, Dan de Quille, "found the place nearly deserted."
As happened so often in early mining circumstances, there was a rediscovery of ore in 1878 and the IXL Mining District was organized in
116
Silver Hill Camp 117
1879. In 1880, there was a boarding house, two blacksmith shops and twenty miners in Silver Hill. Activities died out again in the early 1880's. Once again, these mines became active in 1906/07.
In 1861, the main mineral production was comprised of silver and gold and copper and lead. Dan de Quille' s visit in June of that year caused him to note that "there were several tents and brush shanties on the site."
In 1880, there were two blacksmith shops, several cabins and a boarding house. The major mines, according to a study by McLane, were the Black Prince and the Bonanza. At this point, the last activity in the district was noted as being undertaken in 1908. (More on this shortly.) Twenty thousand dollars total production was noted, in silver and gold.
It is stated in Carlson that the IXL Canyon and mining district was named for an early Northern Washoe County ranch. i.e., "I ex/cel," signifying excellence.(1)
The historical reference, Thompson and West, relates that "The ore of gold and silver was found between a granite footwall and a slate hanging wall." The most important mines were the Bayfeld, Black Prince, Eastern Star, Iron Point, Spar, Morgan and the Mammoth. The Bayfeld shaft was 170 feet deep. The Iron Point tunnel was 160 feet long. Mines had access to abundant spring water and pine wood, and freight was teamed from Stillwater at $20/ton.(2)
In view of the above data and after several investigative trips to the Silver Hill site, the author has concluded that Silver Hill, although little known today, is a site which should be seen as quite historically relevant to the hectic mining past of Churchill County.
Although the casual hiker would be unlikely to see much of interest on the site, the perspective changes upon close observation. Several sets of stone wall ruins/foundations remain up and down the site. Also, there is a good hewn stone alignment noted some distance before one approaches the site. The visible portion is oriented east and west and is about 16 feet in length. Should one proceed to the west end of the site core area (to the so called "dwelling site") and then continue on to the west about 180 feet to the edge of a relatively flat, brushy location, one comes upon another, mostly buried, rock alignment. This feature is composed of granite blocks and trends north and south. The exposed length is about 28 feet.
Another consideration impacts this Cultural Resource Report as follows. A ruin of a stone walled cabin plus a couple of very sparse stone cabin foundations are located at some distance up canyon from the general
118 William C. Davis
core area. The stone cabin ruins are literally perched on a very steep hillside at some 300 plus feet higher in elevation. It is also more proximal to the major mine workings. Although in poor condition, the cabin still presents a good facsimile of its former architecture. The south facing wall still retains its wooden window casing.
To access the "upper ruins," one simply continues hiking west, up canyon, from the west end of the core site area. A good reference point is
Sampling of artifacts found and recorded at the Silver Hill site. (William C. Davis Photo)
the "fireplace." Go about 1,200 feet west of the fireplace but do not cross the wash. Turn right into small canyon bearing northwest. Climb another 1200 feet up to the cabin, which is situated high on the left hand slope yet is clearly visible.
There is no mistake about where you are when you enter the east end of the core site area. Old wooden posts and quantities of barb wire stand in cottonwood trees next to the creek on the south. On the north side the stone walls of structure #1 are seen and a few yards across a small wash are the remains of stone wall structure #2.
While recording the site, I observed that, due to the very steep terrain, almost all structures have had a levelled floor surface dug into a slanting hillside previous to the construction of foundations. Needless to say, some of these "rooms" exhibit at least one side or corner which is melded directly into the native stone of the hillside. Just to the west of structure #1 and continuing for about 300 feet to the general area of the fireplace, the investigator is presented with a complex puzzle. This area necessitates a
Silver Hill Camp 119
close, future investigation by historians/archaeologists. The reason for this is straightforward. This creek/spring area is wooded, and brush and grass cover everything. Leaves, tree branches and logs, humus and bushes are all about. Over time, the slopes above have sloughed off and much soil has ended up on the site complex. It is here that a portion of structure #3 is partially exposed and others are possibly buried. In this "complex area" it is undetermined what, exactly, existed here. Among the artifactual debris were found portions of ore car tracts, wagon hubs, wire of all type and burned/charred lumber and posts, some still "in situ." All manner of tin, clear, amber and brown glass, cable and fragments of wooden folding cots are noted here as well as portions of shovels and other unidentified ironware. Earth and wood cover much of this complex.
I would suspect that much of the above observed condition is due, in part, to the impact of the December 1954 earthquake. The main fault traversed IXL Canyon in a north/south direction at that time. We might then ask, "Was the 'fireplace' connected with a good dwelling ... the boarding house? Did it play some part in blacksmithing operations?" These are questions posed for future historians/archaeologists and more in-depth investigation of the Silver Hill townsite.
Lots of remnant chicken wire is noticed all about the site. Were various fowl kept here in some numbers by the inhabitants? Where were the many necessary teams kept and fed on this restricted landscape? Possibly within the confines of the "Flat"? Where was the "boarding house" located? Perhaps at our "dwelling site" at the west end of the core area?
Although there is a paucity of surface evidence, I would suspect that the "flat" area west of the dwelling site was quite crowded with tents and shacks at diverse times. There seem to be at least eight or so reasonably flat acres here.
Another question comes to mind when examining the upper ruins of the stone cabin and its environs. It is located high on a hillside above a good spring. The south facing window opening allows a fantastic view of the down canyon areas. Even the Clan Alpines may be seen from this vantage point! Bits and pieces of hole in top cans, lap joint soldered kerosene cans, ceramics fragments, some remnants of enamelware and some architectural ironwork is in evidence both in and around the cabin.
Also noted are sardine cans and some evidence of "press on cap" type tin cans. A few sherds of amber, blue/cobalt and aqua glass and some
120 William C. Davis
ceramic sherds are seen and lead one to question if they were, perhaps, related to lab or assay work here. The above are only a few of some of the more intriguing questions that come to mind while analyzing the site. Indeed, the Silver Hill questions eagerly await further serious consideration of the historians and archaeologists.
Almost the whole of the north slope and ridge is literally riddled with adits, tunnels and drifts. Large areas of exposed reefs and dikes are seen here and the topography shows a geological complexity compatible with mineral precipitation in lodes and in veins. Large granite formations are noted along with strata of highly metamorphosed geological depositions. Shale/slate is prevalent across the whole area. Quartz and decomposed granite, of great interest to miners, occur in quantity here.
In addition to the foregoing information, and to the possible chagrin of those who earlier had stated that all activity had finally ceased at Silver Hill by 1907, we have the following newspaper article excerpted from the Churchill County Eagle, Saturday, November 15, 1913.
Fallon is the Gateway to the Mines: Ore Shipped from IXL
All of the early settlers of Churchill County who are familiar with mining operations in the IXL District remember that some splendid ore shipments were made in the early 1870's as well as in many years since that time. The latest shipment, however, was made this week. A.C. James recently put men to work on a new strike about 380 feet below the old Bayfield Shaft. [Here the name of the mine is spelled in a different manner!] This is located just up the hill from Charlie Mottini' s cabin. They struck a five-foot ledge which pitches into the hill to the north, the same as the Bayfield, from which a fortune was shipped in the early days. From this new strike Mr. James brought in a half a ton of ore and sent it to the Western Ore Purchasing Co. at Hazen where it was worked. The results were received Wednesday and the ore ran $43.66 per ton, about one third being gold and the balance silver. This is highly satisfactory to the owners of the property.
Another newspaper article from the Churchill County Eagle, July 19, 1913, adds both interest and substance to our historic interest in Silver Hill and the IXL Canyon environment of the day.
Dixie Valley and the Silver Range: A Mr. Hendriksen has just returned from the Boyer Ranch and Cottonwood Canyon ... had splendid ore specimens ... he thought that there should be a road opened somewhere between Job's Peak and Fondaway Canyon for miners, ore transportation
Silver Hill Camp 121
and the coming of agriculture to Dixie Valley. In early days it must be remembered that there was an old toll road over the low summit just beyond Job's Peak leading into the IXL District.
One person has stated that it would not be long before Dixie Valley would be paying a quarter of Churchill County taxes and if people wished to "cash in" on the coming "boom" in the near future then a good access road was needed into the Lahontan Valley from the area in question.
I offer one final account of Silver Hill, IXL Canyon and the Silver Range. In the manner of a different, lateral view, this enhances our perspective of the area.
Again, from the Eagle, dated May 31, 1913, a small party of prominent Fallonites took a trip from Stillwater to IXL Canyon and then related their observations in the article, Over the Silver Range on Horseback. Some highlights include the following:
Mr. A. C. James has graded a trail four miles across the mountain from Cox Canyon to the head of IXL. ... Bearing to the left our trail took us down Calvert Canyon (currently listed as James Canyon?) where we halted at a two story building which Mr. James had erected for his men. The following morning ... took a steep winding trail over the ridge between Calvert and IXL Canyon. ... We examined the old workings, many made a half century ago. At our feet in the bottom of IXL Canyon was the abode of Charley Mottini, with green fields and flourishing gardens.... our party is now at the mouth of the incline shaft on the Golden Bar Claim ... in the early days the Golden Bar was known as the Bayfield. ... It was owned by the late governor, John E. Jones. ... all along the IXL side of the ridge rich ore has been extracted.... In fact it is 250 ft. between the granite foot wall and the slate hanging wall, the formation being dotted with shafts and tunnels operated by improvised methods of the earlier days. However, the vast mineral wealth of the IXL District has been known to the early settlers since the 1860's. While standing on the Golden Bar ground Mr. James pointed to an old tunnel in the right hand fork of IXL Canyon and said, "There is where Mr. Kaiser, father of Mrs. I.H. Kent, ... took out so much money. The Black Prince is still the property of the Kaiser heirs."
In summary, I see the Silver Hill historic site as a veritable treasure house of Churchill County history. The more detailed aspects of this history await the efforts of the future astute archaeologist to bring them to light and to thus be shared with all who care to be informed.
122 William C. Davis
NOTES
1. Carlson, 143.
2. Thompson and West, 364.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Carlson, Helen S. Nevada Place Names. Reno: UNR Press, 1974.
McLane, Alvin. Cultural Resource Overview, BLM. Part 2.
American Museum of Natural History. New York: 1982.
Paher, Stanley. Western Nevada Ghost Towns and Mining Camps.
Las Vegas: Nevada Publications, 1970.
Thompson and West. History of Nevada. Berkeley:
Howell North Publishers, 1958.
Silver Hill Camp 123
CONTRIBUTORS
Russell Armstrong is a native Nebraskan. The former Marine Captain holds among his decorations, the Navy Cross and the Purple Heart. He and his wife Connie live on Swingle Bench Road. Along with his fervent interest in history, he is an enthusiastic horseman and combines the two in order to accomplish and compile his historical research. He is presently working on his Ph.D. at UNR.
Firmin Ascargorta Bruner was born September 25, 1899, in the Basque Region of Spain. The "Sage of Fallon" happily shares his wonderful memories and enthusiasm for life with all.
Carol Cote is retiring as the Photography Curator at the Churchill County Museum after five years. She has indexed over 85,000 negatives, photos and prints for the archives.
William C. Davis is an archaeologist employed by R.K. Vierra and Associates. A resident of Fallon for thirty six years, he has been involved in the recordation of both historic and Paleo Indian sites in Churchill County. His first In Focus article, "Lahontan City Overview," appeared in the 1992-1993 issue.
Glenn F. "Kelly" Engle (1892-1980) came to Churchill County as an engineer with the U.S. Reclamation Department in 1918. He and his wife Ruth [Williams] homesteaded in the Soda Lake District in the 1920's.
Michon Maupin Mackedon is an English Instructor at Western Nevada Community College. She holds a B.A. in history and a Master's Degree in English, both from the University of Nevada, Reno. She is the Editor of In Focus.
124
Contributors 125
Diane Alles Miller is a Fallon native, graduate of UNR, and is currently employed as the Churchill County Museum Registrar.
Jane Pieplow has been the Director/Curator of the Churchill County Museum since November of 1992.
Andrew Russell is a Master's candidate in history at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. He has presented papers on the Japenese in Nevada at several professional conferences.
Connie Philips Walters is a Fallon native. Educated in the local schools she lives with her husband Frank E. "Pete" Walters in Reno. She has been an interviewee for the Museum Oral History program.
Sally Springmeyer Zanjani received her Ph.D. from New York University and is associated with the political science department at the University of Nevada, Reno. She is the author of more than forty articles in various journals. The most recent of her four books, Goldfield: The Last Gold Rush on the Western Frontier, won the 1992 Westerners International Book Award.
Hilda Cadet Zaugg, a native of Battle Mountain, graduated from the University of Nevada and taught in the Fallon schools for a number of years. Married to Roy Zaugg and the mother of three children, she was a homemaker at the time of her death on January 24, 1986.
CHURCHILL COUNTY
MUSEUM & ARCHIVES
1050 South Maine Street
Fallon, NV 89406
(702) 423-3677
MUSEUM STAFF
Jane Pieplow, Director/Curator
Diane Miller, Registrar
Carol Cote, Curator of Photographs - Emeritus
Janet Bertaud, Curator of Photographs
Bunny Corkill, Research Assistant
Paulie Alles, Hostess
Cindy Loper, Hostess
Clydene Mickelson, Hostess
Bob Walker, Host
Gale York, Hostess
William A. Landman, Computer Consultant
IN FOCUS STAFF
Michon Mackedon, Editor
Jane Pieplow, Editor
Bunny Corkill, Assistant
PRODUCTION CREDITS 1993-1994 ISSUE
Production Photography: Carol Cote
Typesetting: Amiga 2500/40 with a NEC LC 890 Postscript
Laser Printer and Professional Page v42.0a software
Production: Reno Printing, Reno, Nevada
FOUNDED IN 1967, the Churchill County Museum Association seeks to advance the study and preservation of local history. The Association does this through special programs, exhibits in the Churchill County Museum & Archives, which opened in 1968, and this publication, Churchill County IN FOCUS. The Association is also active in the collection and preservation of historic photographs and collects manuscripts, maps, artifacts and books, making its collections available for research. The Museum is the repository for both the City of Fallon and Churchill County government records.

Published Journal