In Focus Volume 10 No 1

In Focus Volume 10 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

1996-1997

Ron Anglin
Tim Findley
David Getto
Mary Nevada Lambert
Stan Lehman
Jan Loverin
Greg MacGregor
Michon Mackedon
Karen McNary
Denise Mondhink
Nila Northsun
Jane Pieplow
Gwen Washburn

Copyright Churchill County Museum Association

Published JOurnal, TIF,PDF

English

CHURCHILL COUNTY
IN FOCUS
A Journal of
ARCHAEOLOGY NATIVE AMERICAN
ESSAYS CULTURE
FICTION NEVADA I-IISTORY
FOLKLORE OLD PHOTOGRAPHS
NATURAL HISTORY POETRY
THE CHURCHILL COUNTY
MUSEUM ASSOCIATION, FALLON, NEVADA
1996-1997
CHURCHILL COUNTY
MUSEUM ASSOCIATION, INC.
BOARD OF TRUSTEES
Mike Berney, Chairman
Nancy Stewart, Vice Chairman
Glenda Price, Secretary
Myrl Nygren, Treasurer
Pat Boden, Trustee
Elmo Dericco, Trustee
Virgil Getto, Trustee
Don Johnson, Trustee
Diane Lowery, Trustee
Bebe Ann Mills, Trustee
Glenn Perazzo, Trustee
Lynn Pearce, 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. 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 non-profit Nevada corporation. A complimentary copy of IN FOCUS is sent to all members of the Museum Association. Membership dues are:
Seniors (60 + ) $ 10.00 Wagonmaster $ 50 . 00
Jr. Member (21 and under) 10.00 Pioneer 100 . 00
Individual 15.00 Homesteader 200.00 +
Family 20.00
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.
Copyright Churchill County Museum Association, Inc., 1997. 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: Our featured "Shadow Catcher" photographer, Clyde Kahler Mathewson, captured these ranchers as they were irrigating their fields, soon after the Newlands Project had gotten underway. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
SOFT FOCUS
The Editors' Comments
Michon Mackedon
As I look over this 10th issue of In Focus, my first reaction is that it contains quite a diverse, almost motley, collection of writings. Topics range from Maine Street to Dixie Valley, from Spirit Cave Man to Domestic Sheep. My next thought, though, is that every article in this edition is somehow about change. Change is the soundless refrain which structures each authors' thoughts, and change, for better or worse, is the one common theme which touches all aspects of life in this region.
A reader opening this edition of In Focus might begin with Nila North-sun's poem, "Moving Camp Too Far." Although the poem specifically alludes to sweeping changes in Northsun's Native American culture, it speaks to us all, for all of our camps have moved a long ways over a very few years. The article on Maine Street, Fallon, and the personal essays by Nevada Lambert and David Getto look at changes in the streets of Fallon. The physical change of a business facade or a parking pattern or vegetation is much more than a shift in style: such changes reflect the shifting cultural values of a community. Like change in Northsun's poem, physical changes in a town, or even in just a street, suggest changes in beliefs and values and in the ways in which we practice them.
Change comes from many directions. Greg MacGregor's photographic essay on the 40 mile desert, Jan Loverin's essay on early clothing , Jane Pieplow' chronology of the telephone company and Stan Lehman's poem focus on changes brought by the passage of time. Karen McNary's article on sheep examines ways in which time, science and experience have changed the patterns of sheep grazing and wool production in this state and elsewhere. Tim Findley's article on Spirit Cave Man considers ways in which new discoveries force change in traditionally-held views. Dixie Land profiles a community forced to change because of new technologies and politics. And, Ron Anglin's article on traditional Native American uses of indigenous plants gives us a glimpse into a whole way of life that has been all but lost to change.
We invite you to enjoy what we offer here. And, should you be so inclined, we further invite you to send us your own article for next year's issue of In Focus.
1
2 Mackedon/Pieplow
Jane Pieplow
As I worked on the production of my fourth issue of In Focus, Volume 10, it became apparent to me that each issue takes on a life of its own. Last year's issue, Volume 9, almost created itself as we had so many contributors writing on many interesting subjects that had not been covered in past volumes. This year there was more writing and research done by museum staff members and our co-editor, Michon Mackedon, in order to produce our annual volume of Churchill County history. While the subjects in Volume 10 are many, the writers' pool is smaller!
There are so many local history subjects that we have not yet tackled in our yearly journal. You, our readers, can help continue the momentum by contributing articles for publication. Write about what you remember of your childhood growing up in Fallon and Churchill County as David Getto and Mary Nevada Lambert did in this issue. Come to the museum and research the old newspapers for information for articles on all aspects of our County's past like Michon Mackedon, Karen McNary and I did for our articles. We guarantee that once you start to read the old newspapers, you won't want to stop!
In closing, I would particularly like to thank Research Curator Bunny Corkill and all the other staff members who researched, wrote, collected, and printed photographs for our articles this year. We look forward to Volume 11 and your participation with much anticipation!
SHADOW CATCHER
Clyde Kahler Mathewson
Gwen Mathewson Washburn
My grandfather, Clyde Kahler Mathewson, was a quiet man of many talents. The second of three sons, he was born in Mt. Ayer, Iowa, on August 14, 1882, to parents Clarabelle (Kahler) and Thomas Jefferson Mathewson. The family, of German and Scottish descent, moved soon afterward to Tulare, South Dakota, where many other Scottish families resided. In 1891 they bought a farm and moved to Tripp, South Dakota.
On the farm Clyde had many opportunities to develop his sharp and inventive mind. Out of necessity and curiosity he learned to be self-sufficient and adept at many things, especially carpentry and photography. When he was offered a job as a photographer's assistant he jumped at the chance. The young man might have gone on to become a professional photographer under the tutelage of his employer if not for the twist of fate. Clyde eagerly learned the photographic techniques of the time and took many fine photos depicting life in South Dakota at the turn-of-the-century. He liked to photograph himself, and his collection contains many self portraits.
Clyde married Florence Newcomb in Tripp, South Dakota, on New Year's Day, 1909. They settled into life in Tripp where my grandfather continued his carpentry and photography pursuits. Shortly after their marriage, Florence's brother, Arthur, became very ill. The doctors recommended a gentler climate as the only possible cure. At that time the Reclamation Act and the construction of the Newlands Project seemed the ideal solution -- farm land, assured water and a milder climate. Florence's parents, Mary (Riden) and Horace Greeley Newcomb, along with Arthur and his wife and infant son, arrived by train in Hazen, Nevada, in March, 1909. They were soon established on a farm on the south fork of the Carson River, St. Clair, Nevada.
His illness and the relocation proved too much for Arthur and he passed away in May of 1909. Florence came west to be with her parents and fell in love with the "ranch" as she always called it, and with Nevada. She returned to South Dakota for a time, but the hard work on the ranch in Nevada was taking its toll on her father, Horace. Clyde and Florence moved permanently to the "ranch" at St. Clair in the fall of 1912. At that same time, with an eye toward retirement,
3
4 Gwen Washburn
Horace and Mary had a home built on Broadway Street in Fallon.
Clyde took over the farming operation with the limited assistance of his father-in-law. Clyde, too, loved Nevada and saw the photographic opportunities that it had to offer. He took many pictures of the Lahontan Dam construction and of the routine farm life and family outings. He enjoyed prospecting and always took pictures of the mines and the mountain scenery.
After Horace succumbed to his diabetes in late 1913, the whole responsibility of the farm fell to Clyde. Because of time constraints he limited his photographs to mostly
pictures of his two small sons, Clyde Arthur and William Riden. Florence was supportive of his photographic talents; but mother-in-law Mary had different views. When Florence died in 1932, Clyde and Mary had words about his hobby that she felt wasted both time and money that should be spent on the farm. She, with her staid best English attitude, was dead set against his pictures. He, in his finest show of Scottish obstinacy, put away his camera and never used it again.
Clyde Kahler Mathewson passed away peacefully in his sleep in September of 1959 in the farm house at the end of Harrigan Road that had been his home for the past 48 years. It is a loss to the Lahontan Valley today that he did not use his gift of photographic composition and creativity during the last years of his life to record its history; but he did leave us some lasting impressions.
One squeeze of the cable release in Clyde Kahler Mathewson 's hand and another bit of Churchill County history will be captured for future generations to enjoy. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
Clyde Kahler Mathewson 5
Miners gather at the shack they call home. Location is unknown. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
Miners take a break from their labors. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
6 Gwen Washburn
Beekeeping was, and is still, an important activity in the Lahontan Valley. Bees pollinate the alfalfa and also produce another cash crop -- honey. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
Ranch work in action! (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
Clyde Kahler Mathewson 7
Water rushes through its channels at the Derby Diversion Dam. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
The construction of Lahontan Dam proved to be a magnet for photographers in the valley. This image shows the construction of the Truckee Canal chute that will soon bring more water to the reservoir. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
8 Gwen Washburn
This is the temporary wooden chute that brought Truckee River water to the Lahontan Reservoir via Derby Dam. The Truckee Canal construction featured in the photograph on the previous page placed the concrete-lined chute where it is today. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
Mathewson must have captured this image after working hours as the horse or mule teams and their drivers have gone home. Many local farmers rented out their teams (or drove them themselves) for extra cash. In an age before walkie talkies, the temporary poles seen at the edge of the water allowed for telephone communications which greatly aided construction logistics. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
Clyde Kahler Mathewson 9
Apparently public safety was not a big concern during the construction of the dam. This photo is evidence that Mathewson and his friends climbed around the partially-completed dam and spillway. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
The spillways and pool below the dam allow water to be sent on down the Carson River toward Fallon. This part of the dam, and the power house behind it, appear pretty much like this today. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
The Forty Mile Desert Crossing on the California Emigrant Trail
Greg MacGregor
[Editor's note: The photographs and commentary used in this story are excerpted from Greg MacGregor 's book, published by the University of New Mexico press, entitled Overland, The California Emigrant Trail of 1841-18691
The Forty Mile Desert crossing on the California Overland emigrant trail was created where the Humboldt River, which emigrants had been following for about 300 miles across Nevada, ended at the Humboldt Sink near present day Lovelock, Nevada. Two desert crossings were created, one to the Carson River and the other to the Truckee River.
I can still vividly remember the first time I saw the Forty Mile Desert. The year was 1986 and I had just begun what would become an eight year project to document the emigrant trail. After obtaining some guide books, I chose to start with the Nevada trail sections which were nearest my home in Oakland, California.
That afternoon in August was boiling hot, as it must have been for those travelers 150 years ago. They would have been arriving at this point after five months on the trail. Into the desert I plunged, not quite sure that I was even on the right road as guide books and reality are quite different in this age when new "roads" can be created by any four wheel drive vehicle. After about two hours of following what proved to be false tracks and feeling quite lost, I stumbled upon a concrete block. Getting out of the car and walking around to the
front side I read the following inscription:
Imagine to yourself a vast plain of sand and clay; the moon riding over you in silent grandeur, just renders visible by her light the distant mountains; the stinted sage, the salt lakes, cheating the thirsty traveler into the belief that water is near; yes, water it is, but poison to the living thing that stops to drink . . . burning wagons render still more hideous the solemn march; dead horses line the road, and living ones may be constantly seen, lapping and rolling the empty water casks (which have been cast away) for a drop
10
The Forty Mile Desert 11
of water to quench their burning thirst, or standing with drooping heads, waiting for death to relieve them of their tortures, or lying on the sand half buried, unable to rise, yet still trying. The sand hills are reached; then comes a scene of confusion and dismay. Animal after animal drops down. Wagon after wagon is stopped, the strongest animals taken out of the harness; the most important effects are taken out of the wagon and placed on their backs and all hurry away, leaving behind wagons, property and animals that, too weak to travel, lie and broil in the sun in agony of thirst until death relieves them. The owners hurry on with but one object in view, that of reaching the Carson River before the boiling sun shall reduce them to the same condition. Morning comes, and the light of day presents a scene more horrid than the rout of a defeated army; dead stock line the roads, wagons, rifles, tents, clothes, everything but food may be found scattered along the road; here an ox who, standing famished against a wagon bed until nature could do no more, settles back into it and dies; and there a horse kicking out its last gasp in the burning sand, men scattered along the plain and stretched out among the dead stock like corpses, fill out the picture. The desert! You must see it and feel it on an August day, when legions have crossed it before you, to realize it in all its horrors. But heaven save you from the experience.
E.S. Ingalls, 1850
I was indeed on the right track as this monument had recently been placed by the Trails West Organization to assist confused travelers like myself who were trying to find the trail. It was easy to imagine the scenes of despair and terror described in the quotation on the plaque. The terrain here was absolutely bleak with no drinkable water for miles.
As the project of photographically documenting the rest of the 2,000 mile trail unfolded before me, I never again saw a section of the trail that could compare with this area. I returned many times to the Forty Mile Desert for the solitude and spiritual qualities it possessed. Its remoteness and hostile terrain, which was a disaster for early emigrants of the last century, would at the same time preserve its secrets for me, a traveler of this century.
12 Greg MacGregor
Humboldt Mountain Range and Sink, terminus of the Humboldt River, Pershing County, Nevada.
The Humboldt River stops flowing at the Humboldt Sink near Lovelock, Nevada. Here it backs up into a huge salt marsh caused by a natural dike and sinks into the ground. The swamplands created meadows of grass and drinkable water gathered by the overland journeyers in preparation for the desert crossing to come. It was an active staging area with teams continuously entering and leaving. After filling wagons with cut grass and barrels with water, the Forty Mile Desert crossing usually began later in the afternoon so that most of the twenty-four hour trek could be accomplished during the cooler night hours.This section of trail would be met in late August when afternoon temperatures could reach 100 degrees.
. . . On arriving at the Sink of the Humboldt, a great disappointment awaited us. We had known nothing of the nature of that great wonder except what we had been told by those who knew no more about it than ourselves. In place of a great rent in the earth, into which the waters of the river plunged with a terrible roar (as pictured in our imagination), there was found a mud lake ten miles long and four or five miles wide, a veritable sea of slime, a slough of despond, an ocean of ooze, a bottomless bed of alkali poison, which emitted a nauseous odor and presented the appearance of utter desolation. The croaking of frogs would have been a redeeming feature
The Forty Mile Desert 13
of the place, but no living thing disturbed the silence and solitude of the lonely region. There were mysteries and wonders hovering over and around the Sink of the Humboldt, but there was neither beauty nor grandeur in connection with it, for a more dreary or desolate spot could not be found on the face of the earth.
Reuben Shaw, 1849
I had with me a pair of long top leather boots; these I filled with hay just as full as I could stuff them . . . At 2 pm, all being in readiness, we saddled up and adjusting my boots, filled with hay, across my saddle, one boot on each side, I rode my horse out into the slough of water and with my tin cup filled each boot full of water.
Lemuel C. McKeeby, 1850
Entrance to the Forty Mile Desert, Truckee River Route
14 Greg MacGregor
Boiling Springs ruins, on the Truckee River Route, Forty Mile Desert, Churchill County, Nevada.
The depression and the rock pile dam are the location of Boiling Springs, a very hot water source of alkaline water located at the midpoint of the Forty Mile Truckee River Route desert. The trail continues west through the low spot in the distant hills. An onion dehydration factory and a geothermal electric power plant now lease the property and are located about one hundred yards away. The water here could be cooled and, although disagreeable, could be used by animals and humans.
• • • at about 15 miles or half way from Waushee [Truckee] river to the first water near Marys Lake still exist a cauldron of boiling water no steam issues from it [at] present but it stands in several pools boiling and again disappearing some of these pools have beautiful clear water boiling in them and others emit quantities of mud into one of these muddy pools -- my little water spaniel went -- poor fellow not knowing that it was Boiling hot he deliberately walked into the caldron to slake his thirst and cool his limbs when to his sad disappointment and my sorrow he scalded himself almost instantly to death I felt more for his loss than any other animal I ever lost in my life as he had been my constant companion in all my wanderings since I left Milwaukee and I vainly hoped to see him return to his old master in his native village (but such is the nature of all earthly hopes)
James Clyman, 1844
The Forty Mile Desert 15
We visited the boiling springs, which are, indeed a great curiosity, with their waters foaming and gurgling, the noise of which at times, they tell me, may be heard at a half mile's distance. In one of them we saw the bones of a man who, being deranged, threw himself into it a year or two since, and immediately perished A women [sic] and child were also killed by falling into it last summer.
Harriet S. Ward, 1853
Unmarked emigrant grave and barrel hoops, Forty Mile Desert, Truckee River Route.
The small pile of rocks in the lower left side of this photograph is an unmarked grave. It is oriented in an east-west direction as was the custom of the time. Usually the head of the deceased was placed toward the setting sun. Friends or relatives had to walk a considerable distance to obtain these rocks as there are none in the deep sand that surrounds the immediate area. The scraps of iron are barrel hoops. Water barrels were abandoned when empty because once the Truckee River was reached there would be ample water all the way to California. Interstate 80 traffic is in the background. In this last third of the journey, those who did not bring vitamin C supplements such as vinegar or vegetables were apt to suffer from scurvy, as they had been five months on the trail. Pack trains,
16 Greg MacGregor
composed of single men riding horses and mules, were more likely to abandon sick members of their parties along the trail hoping that they would be aided by upcoming trains. The lack of family connections and the shortage of wagons in which to carry the sick were probably the reasons for this questionable action.
The amount of suffering on the latter part of the route was almost incalculable. No one except those who saw or experienced it can have any idea of its extent . . . sights, the thought of which, would make the blood chill in any human breast. After I left the train, I saw men sitting or lying by the roadside, sick with fevers or crippled by scurvy, begging of the passerby to lend them some assistance, but no one could do it. The winter was so near, that it was sure death literally, and the teams were all giving out, so that the thought of hauling them in the wagons was absurd. Nothing could be done, consequently they were left to a slow lingering death in the wilderness.
James D. Lyon, 1849
Cottonwood trees on the Truckee River, at the end of the Forty Mile Desert.
The Forty Mile Desert 17
• • • took 2 hours rest about midnight and arrived to our great joy at the Salmon Trout [Truckee] River at 7 a. m. on Sunday Sept. 9, and once more had a refreshing draught of pure water and was gladdened by the sight of large majestic trees. The Salmon Trout being lined with the finest Cottonwoods I ever saw. No one can imagine how delightful the sight of a tree is after such long stretches of desert, until they have tried it. We have seen very few of any kind since leaving the Platte, and what a luxury after our mules were taken care of, to lay down in their shade and make up our two nights loss of sleep, and hear the wind rustling their leaves and whistling among their branches.
Elisha D. Perkins, 1849
Animal remains, Forty Mile Desert, Carson River Route. The dark humps of earth shown here are actually the remains of dead cattle or draft animals from the migration period. Small sections of decayed vertebrae still protrude from the soil; however, very little large bone material remains. This section of trail is about 15 miles into the crossing.
18 Greg MacGregor
Multiple tracks across Parren Flat, Forty Mile Desert, Carson River Route.
These ruts are in the heart of the desert, where wagons spread out to avoid the dust. The fate of this section of trail is currently the subject of a dispute over whether or not the federal Bureau of Land Management should allow a Utah corporation to flood the area with water to create a salt evaporation pond.
The Forty Mile Desert 19
Boulders at Salt Creek Crossing, Forty Mile Desert, Carson River Route.
It is theorized that these rocks were placed here by emigrants as a place to stand on in order to help turn their wagon wheels by hand. The river bank is very soft, and the wagon wheels would sink deeply into it. Salt Creek is midway along the Forty Mile Desert on the Carson River Route. Thirsty animals had to be kept from drinking the water, often by force, as it was poisonous.
20 Greg MacGregor
Remains of burned wagons, Forty Mile Desert, Carson River Route.
Burning wagons, some lighting the distant night sky, were reported in emigrant diaries. It is not clear why they took precious time to destroy abandoned property. Despite this practice, there was so much useful iron left on the desert that for many years junk dealers from the pioneer settlement of Reno would salvage the materials for resale. Wagon parts and tools were especially prized. Most of the losses occurred at the 20-mile mark where deep sand covered the route. This area is still peppered with rusted bits of iron.
The migration of 1850 encountered particularly mammoth losses on this section of trail. One diarist reported that he actually counted 4,960 horses, 3,750 oxen, and 1,601 mules among the dead animals beside the trail. In that same year, John Wood reported that all who traveled the Carson River Route estimated that there were 3,000 wagons abandoned that season -- three out of every four wagons that entered the desert.
The reasons for these great losses are several: the migration of 1849 (27,000 emigrants and 60,000 animals), and that of 1850 (45,000 emigrants and 100,000 animals) stressed Humboldt River's slim resources. As a result, both animals and emigrants arrived at the Forty Mile Desert undernourished and already exhausted. The summer of 1850 was reported to be exceptionally hot in
The Forty Mile Desert 21
Western Nevada, burning up any edible vegetation and evaporating flowing water. In fact, entrepreneurs would ride out to sell supplies to the thousands of travelers. As could be expected, water was the main item, sold at outrageous prices. One account reported it was being sold at fifteen dollars a glass.
Soda Lake, Carson River Route, Nevada.
Soda Lake is located at the end of the Carson River Route where it met the Carson River. The lake is situated inside an extinct volcanic crater with steep, loose, cinder walls, which make it almost impossible to walk down to the surface. The walls are about 200 feet high except for one spot near the drinkable water springs at the north base of the trail.
22 Greg MacGregor
SHARP FOCUS
Maine Street: Then and Now
Jane Pieplow
The face of Fallon's Maine Street has changed over the years, from a few buildings at a dusty crossroads to the bustling business center it is today. As time passes and each generation supercedes the last, it becomes easier to forget exactly what Maine Street once looked like or to feel a real connection to the people who had lived and worked there. Often street and building names are repeated without the knowledge of where the names came from, and local "legends" about Maine Street activities are shelved with other dusty relics of the past.
One of the missions of the Churchill County Museum is to illuminate the past for others to marvel at and enjoy. The following article on Maine Street should bring back memories for those who have seen it change over the decades and will tell its story to those who are unaware of its history.
* * * * *
The city of Fallon had its beginnings in 1894 when Jim Richards built a little general store at the crossroads of two well-traveled trails which would become Maine Street and Williams Avenue. The Native Americans and the earliest settlers called this area "Jim Town." In 1896, a couple of blocks further west, Mike and Eliza (Bruner) Fallon established a post office on their ranch. Soon the little community was officially named "Fallon." The Mike Fallon family sold their property to then Nevada State Senator Warren W. Williams and by 1902, they had left the valley, leaving only the Fallon name as their legacy.
As more buildings were built and businesses begun, real estate values along Maine Street rose. By 1906 the street had been surveyed and the Fallon Standard reported that every lot was now worth more than $100 per foot.
Local legend tells why the street is wider at Williams Avenue and narrows as it approached Center Street. While Warren Williams gave land for the north end of the street, John Oats generously donated ground at the south end. When each man had finished pacing off a certain number of strides, the longer-legged Williams had covered more territory than the shorter Oats, thus the street narrows at the Oats property!
23
24 Jane Pieplow
With Maine Street property values on the increase and the street surveying completed, Fallon residents set about the task of laying out and building their new community. The May 12, 1906 issue of the Churchill Standard boasted of the beautiful tree-lined "driveways," or streets, that were springing up:
One will have to travel a long way to find more beautiful driveways than are afforded by the several lanes that lead into this place, the abundance of shade being furnished by the cottonwood trees planted many years ago by the old settlers. Now that Fallon is commencing to assume the proportions of a respectable town, the sweethearts are increasing accordingly and many now avail themselves of these driveways, which in lieu of other cognomens, we will dub lover's Lane.'
As proof of the town's growing business area, and with a nod toward the advancing technology of the new century, a 1907 city ordinance was approved to regulate the speed of horses, carriages, autos and vehicles in the town. It stated: "It is unlawful to ride or drive any horse or vehicle faster than six miles an hour. Autos are also limited to six miles an hour."
Horses, vehicles and autos found that the six mile an hour speed limit was not necessary when a flood engulfed most of Maine Street that same year. The waters did not do much damage and soon merchants were busy tending to their customers along the quickly-drying street.
In those early years, each store and office along Maine Street had its own awning that protected shoppers from the hot desert sun. While they provided protection from the elements, some of the men in town complained about problems encountered while strolling along these blocks. An editorial in the 1910 newspaper answers the concerns of one of its readers:
Some of the tall men in town have been heard to complain that a man of "ordinary" height cannot walk along Maine Street without bumping his head into at least one of the several low-hanging awnings which shade the walk. It is suggested [by this writer] that the tall ones take to the street, or if they insist on using the sidewalk, let them walk on their hands and knees.
Fallon's business street escaped serious damage from the 1907 flood, but it was not so lucky when fire swept through many blocks in 1908 and again on May 14, 1910. That same year Fallon had formed an official fire department, but the fire was more than they could contain with primitive fire fighting equipment. The 1910 fire reportedly started when a cigarette was dropped through the boardwalk in front of Bess Allen Fortune's People's Cafe. The blaze destroyed the
Maine Street: Then and Now 25
After the fire of May 14, 1910, the two story Williams building, seen at far right in this photograph, still stands. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
wooden buildings that housed the bars, restaurants and shops on the blocks south of today's Nugget parking lot.
In 1915, the formation of the volunteer fire department, that still serves Churchill County today, had begun. "Old Betsy," the city's new fire engine now housed at the museum, traveled all the way from New York to Fallon in 1916 to be of service to our citizenry.
By 1911 the reconstruction of Maine Street was well underway and the effects of the 1910 fire were becoming a memory. Maine Street took on a character of its own. It was used for patriotic parades of all descriptions. Freight teams hauling supplies to the nearby mining camps were a daily sight. Old timers recall that each teamster had a unique set of bells on his harness and residents could recognize which team was entering town, long before they could see them, just by the sound of the bells. In 1914, the Draper Self-Culture Club, a ladies literary organization, erected a concrete water fountain in the center of Maine and Williams. The structure provided liquid refreshment for humans and animals alike. As many as six horses could drink from the fountain at one time. Even the constant banging of the heavy wagon tongues against its sides did not dent the cement. The structure also provided radiator water for many a weary traveler's horseless carriage. It was a sad day in 1930 when the fountain was removed because the street was paved from curb to curb.
By the time the street was paved in 1930, city residents had already found a need for additional auto parking spaces on Maine Street. Increasing auto traffic raised the issue of how and where to park along the street, as angle parking on the east and west sides of the street did not provide enough room to keep pace with the growing automobile population. Two lane parking down the middle
26 Jane Pieplow
of Maine Street was allowed for the first time during the 1920's. By February 26, 1921, the newspaper was recording some of the drawbacks of this arrangement:
Considerable is heard these days in reference to parking autos in the middle of the street. The matter was brought up at Monday night's meeting of the Commercial Club and was not favored by many. The majority of opinion was in favor of leaving parking regu-
The Draper Self-Culture Club 's fountain waters horse and dog
lations as they are at
in this photo. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo present. Following
Collection.) are some of the argu-
ments against park-
ing in the middle of the street as expressed at the meeting:
It is more convenient to load groceries and bundles into a machine parked in front of a store where the goods are bought, than to carry them in one's arms halfway across the street, dodging autos on the way. In muddy or snowy weather the carrying of bundles is doubly burdensome.
Many farmers send their wives or larger children to town with the family auto to do the shopping. Often a woman, girl or boy would have more than they could carry halfway across the street.
Autos parked in the center of the street would be more in the way of fire trucks in making runs to fires.
Despite those who voiced objections to parking in the middle of Maine Street, the practice was allowed until July 12, 1953, when an even more controversial parking arrangement appeared -- the parking meter! The coin munching meters were removed from the curbs on March 20, 1979.
A major fire erupted again on Maine Street in 1926, as the Fallon Standard trumpeted the headline: BUSINESS BLOCK SWEPT BY FIRE. SIX BUSINESS PLACES ARE RAZED BY FLAMES; CONTENTS SAVED! Following the 1926 fire, Maine Street merchants rebuilt their shattered businesses.
Maine Street: Then and Now 27
Angle parking and two middle-of-the-street parking lanes mingle with moving traffic and pedestrians in the 1940's. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
The thirties and the Great Depression slowed the building boom. During World War II, despite a better economy, rationing and shortages slowed new construction even more. America's prosperity after the war, however, was not lost on Fallon's merchants. Another building boom occurred, lining Maine Street with the latest in modern architecture, even if some changes were only face lifts for older buildings.
These major events served to change the face of Maine Street but there were more modest changes in its architecture as well. Literally hundreds of businesses have occupied the varied buildings along the east and west side of Fallon's business center. Some of the county's most important decision-making has taken place in the courthouse at the northwest corner of Williams and Maine.
In 1903, Senator Williams introduced a bill allowing the county government to be moved from Stillwater into Fallon. The Churchill County Courthouse was constructed at its present location that same year and the county seat was officially moved to Fallon in 1904. The wooden-framed structure of neo-classical design was conceived by Reno architect Ben Leon and constructed by W.B. Wyrick of Fallon. Photographs taken over the years reveal that the courthouse was painted a color other that white, although these black and white photographs are not much help in determining what the color(s) might have been. Work has been done to recover old paint chips from nooks and crannies on the building to help determine its historic color, but to date, none have been found to advance this research project. The courthouse has also sported all manner of awnings that
28 Jane Pieplow
This circa 1906 photograph of the courthouse clearly shows the change of color and the striped awnings. The stone building on the left is the county jail which was completed in 1906. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
Jim Richard's little store building about 1900 with Richards standing on the porch at right. The young ox driver could be Ernie Clark training his team of "Broad" and "Bren." (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
must have helped keep county employees cooler during the hot summer months.
A persistent rumor has it that the Fallon courthouse was moved to its present site by angry Fallon residents who stormed Stillwater during the battle to gain county seat status. The story continues that the group arrived in Stillwater one night and stole the courthouse, county records and all. It is true that some county records
Maine Street: Then and Now 29
Pictured in 1905 when it was only one story, the W. W. Williams building can be seen at the far right of this photograph. Notice the newly-completed Robert Douglass mansion (now the "1906 House" bed and breakfast) in the background. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
from this early period are missing, but the lumber from the Stillwater courthouse building is incorporated into the Karl Weishaupt family home . . . it never made the sixteen mile trip into Fallon.
While Fallon was springing up around him in these early years, store owner Jim Richards was busy with his general store business and with other county and state duties. The site of his store, on the southeast corner of Williams and Maine, is occupied today by the Fallon Lightning Lube gas station, but during the years 1894 to 1906, Richards' store served county residents while he took jobs as the County Recorder, County Clerk and in the Nevada Assembly. In 1907, upon deciding to close his store, Richards published the following notice in the paper: Having sold my general merchandise store in Fallon, it is necessary that all accounts be settled at once. Those knowing themselves to be indebted to me will call at the store at once to settle, and those having bills against me, will present the same, as I collect and pay all bills.
The following year, Richards became Churchill County's new Treasurer. His little store building was added on to over the years and was used as an office and later as the newspaper printing plant for the Churchill County Eagle. In 1929, Del and Neva Williams built the brick Eagle newspaper building directly to the east (still identifiable today). Richards' store was torn down in 1936, and for more than fifty years, a series of service stations, including the current Fallon Lightning Lube, have served Highway 50 motorists from this "Jim Town" location.
30 Jane Pieplow
More interesting history can be told about the west side of Maine Street. Starting at the corner of Williams and Maine, today's Nugget parking lot was once the site of a 1905 stone structure built by Warren Williams. A second story was added to the structure the next year. In addition to constructing a viable business building in the downtown area, Williams gave land for its main thoroughfare. Upon giving the land, he did insist on one thing -- that the street be named in honor of his native state of Maine.
Through the years, the building housed a thrift store, a liquor store, eating establishments, Callie Ferguson's post office, and quite a few bars. The Williams building survived the 1910 fire but did not fare as well in the 1954 earthquake. Soon after that event, the building was condemned and torn down. Was it really in danger of collapsing? It took work crews and a wrecking ball days to dismantle the structure!
Next to the lot, the long brown veneer of today's Nugget casino, constructed in the 1960's by the Otto Lauf family, hides a number of single building facades as evidenced by the photograph above. The building's inner walls have been removed to create the open space inside the Nugget today. Like the Williams building, the Nugget site has been the home of many bars and saloons over the decades. Because of all the bars along this block, it was said that in the early decades of this century, ladies did not walk down this side of the street!
At the end of the Nugget, just before First Street, is the building that was one of Fallon's popular watering holes, The Sagebrush Bar. Built in 1912 and owned by M.B. Johnson, it originally housed a cigar factory. Frank Woodliff, Jr., tells this story about the Sagebrush:
My memory takes me back to the day when this building was used as a bank and Rolly Ham [the famous photographer] had a bicycle shop in the south room at the rear of the building facing First Street. I can remember him repairing my bicycle.
Bars line the blocks on the West side ofMaine in the 1940's. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
Maine Street: Then and Now 31
Al Powell stands behind the bar at the Sagebrush Bar and Cafe in 1931. Note the spitoons on the floor. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
A grocery store operated by Jarvis and Bible occupied the building in 1922. The grocery store was moved up the street a few years later and then the Churchill County Bank was ensconsed in it. [Lon Hammond also had a pool hall here for a number of years.]
In 1928 William Powell and son, Allen, moved in and ran a bar and restaurant for a long time. It was known as the duck hunters' meeting place for years. Automobiles were parked in the middle of Maine Street in those days and at 4 AM in the morning the street was completely filled with cars belonging to hunters who were all having breakfast at the Sagebrush Cafe. After the hunt, the ducks would be checked in and counted. Those were the days! [Al Powell sold the bar about 1956.]
Across the alley from the Sagebrush building, the Woodliff family constructed their building in 1911, following the great fire of 1910. The family name is still visible at the top of the building and today serves as the offices of Frank Woodliff, Jr., Frank Woodliff, III, and the Western Hotel. Frank Woodliff, Jr. tells about the history of his family's building:
This building was built with office rooms upstairs and stores on the lower floor. One store was used as a clothing store, op-
32 Jane Pieplow
The Woodliff building shuddered and shook along with others on Maine Street after the 1954 earthquake. The damage to its ornamental details can be seen along the roofline. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
erated by Thomas Woodliff & Son; the other store was operated by Thomas Woodliff Sr. who was a pharmacist and druggist. The offices upstairs did not work out and so a Mrs. Melton ran it as a rooming house for many years. Seeing the need for a small hotel in Fallon, Frank Woodliff, Sr. took over the top floor and completely rebuilt it into a small, modern hotel - thus the Western Hotel was born. It opened for business in October of 1930.
In 1954 an earthquake hit Fallon damaging many of the buildings on Maine Street. On this building the top ornamental blockwork had to be removed to reduce the weight on its facade. Sadly, this changed the original appearance of the building.
Further down the street from the Woodliff building, as one walks toward the corner of Center and Maine, more bars, at various times provided many a "cool one" as well as gaming activites for local miners, farmers and ranchers. For example, the "Towne Hall," now used by Jeff's Office Supply to house office furniture, was known as the Barrell House bar for many years. On the lot at the end of this block, occupied today by Interwest Bank's drive-up window, was the Corner Bar. The Fallon Standard, June 29, 1955, recounted with a sense of nostalgia the closing of the Corner Bar:
Maine Street: Then and Now 33
After 20 years of operating 'the corner,' Charlie Hoover closed its doors Tuesday night for good The modest frame structure which stood on Center and Maine for over 50 years and housed many kinds of businesses, recently was sold to Darrell King and Max Clark. Together with the adjoining Center Street Newsstand and the Ideal Barber Shop, the building will be torn down after July 1 to make room for a modern structure.
A resident of Fallon since February 20, 1905, Charlie is one of Fallon 's first citizens' -- then and now. He established the bar in 1933 when prohibition was repealed When the doors of his modest 'saloon' closed last night, the west side of Maine and the community itself lost a bit of its past that never will be regained.
Across Center Street, at the corner now occupied by Interwest Bank, a
schoolhouse once stood. It is hard to imagine a school in the middle of today's
business district, but in the early years of this century the empty lot at this corner
was a convenient setting. Former students recalled that the street was their play-
ground and they told of their fascination with the fire station behind the school
house. As the population grew, new schools were built, and the little school was
moved once again in order to prepare the lot for its next structure.
The current Heck's Meat Company is housed in a building that was
orignally built as an auto repair garage. Under various owners, this store has
served Fallon citizens
with a fine array of
meats since the
1930's.
South of
Heck's is the Mill
End Fabrics store. Ed
and Vienna Frazzini
built this three-story
building to house a
furniture store in
1920. Norma Frazzini
Cooper describes
how the building was
constructed:
The large display windows in the Frazzini furniture building are still located behind the modern aluminum facade of Mill End Fabrics. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
34 Jane Pieplow
My father, Mr. Frazzini, had admired a furniture store on Market Street in San Francisco and patterned some of this building's features after it.
The stone used in the building was hand cut, and quarried out of a rock formation on Mt. Toyeh [Rattlesnake Hill]. The stone was hauled to town on wagons pulled by teams of horses and was put into place with the use of a derrick and team. Also, the basement was dug with a team of horses; the horses kept slipping and falling as the water table here was so high it was very damp. Consequently, it took longer to dig and it cost more.
Mrs. Vienna Frazzini spent many months cooking to feed the stone masons who came from Dayton, Nevada, and Sacramento, California, to build the store.
The building consists of three floors, which comprise 15,000 square feet and the stone goes all the way to the basement floor. The Frazzinis designed the building so that yet another floor could be added if the family would, in time, desire to build an apartment on the top floor.
The original hot water boiler furnace was still in use during the 1980's. The building was designed with a sidewalk elevator which was used for many years.
In 1941 the Frazzini 's built the warehouse across the alley from the rear of the store.
Next door, the J.C. Penney Co. store was completed in 1949 and served its customers from that site until 1994. Across Richards Street to the south, beyond the current Dairy Queen, stands a building containing several businesses including Flipper's Bar and Travel Unlimited. But many long-time Fallon residents remember it as the Lawana Theater. The theater was built at the beginning of World War II, before serious war rationing began and as the Depression was coming to an end. The theater had a seating capacity of 360. All the seats were on one gradual, sloping floor with an additional four inches of leg room between the rows of seats.
Locals still reminisce about Friday nights and the famous cowboy flicks that were featured at the Lawana. How many Churchill County adoloscents received their first bite from the "love bug" while sitting together in the double love seats featured at the row ends?
The movie house, with its large neon signs and handsomely finished marquee, was named for its owners, Walter and Ana Hull. "W-A-L" was taken from Walt, turned around and Ana added. Thus the name, Lawana. Completing the block is a small building, today's office for Country Companies Insurance, that was a 40's and 50's soda fountain hot spot known as the Dew Drop Inn.
Maine Street: Then and Now 35
The blank wall on the south side of the Kolhoss Cash Store provided plenty of advertising space. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
Across Maine Street, at the southeast corner of Maine and Stillwater, Little Critters Pet Shop occupies the former site of the Likes residence. The home was removed from the lot in the early 1960's to make room for a laundro-mat. This action ended the era of single dwellings on the central portion of Maine.
One block north is today's 88 Cent Video Store. In 1949, Grace and Ted Hillyard built the structure as their family drug store. Looking back, it was always a pleasure to go to locally-owned businesses such as these where the owners recognized their customers and welcomed their patronage.
Continuing north, we find a structure presently occupied by Wells Fargo Bank. It was built in June of 1950 as the First National Bank during the building boom of that decade. The Fred Venth Harness and Upholstery Shop was removed from this site to make way for the modern bank.
Now an empty store front, next to the bank is the site of one of Fallon's institutions, the Kolhoss Cash Store. After years of delivering groceries from their home by horse and buggy, Harvey and Nannie Kolhoss built this brick building in 1920. For generations colorful advertising graced the south wall as seen in the photograph above.
The Kolhoss Cash Store claimed to have sold the first pair of Levi jeans in western Nevada. After sixty years of serving customers, brothers Munsey and Harvey Jr., closed their friendly little general store in 1984.
The entire block north from Richards to Center Street, which includes the former Kolhoss Cash Store, is referred to today as the Palludan block. For years
36 Jane Pieplow
The Gray, Reid & Co. lettering seen in this photograph is still visible today. As is the current practice, many businesses have occupied the stores this building encompasses. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
J.C. Penney, Safeway and Sprouse Reitz occupied the north part of the block. Painted in white on the front of the second section of the block's facade are the words "A. Vesper Store." Chris and Glenna Palludan, current owners of this real estate, provided this story about the arguing merchants:
Built around 1914-1915, A. Vesper and an unknown partner built the middle section of the brick building. Vesper and his partner had the store completely stocked, except for groceries and meat, when they got into an argument and never opened the store. The store stood completely stocked for a year before Gray Reid & Co. bought it out. Gray Reid continued the building to Center Street and the sign can still be seen on the north wall. They sold clothes, groceries, meat, hardware, and general merchandise. Joe Jarvis and "Jake" Bible purchased the building from Gray Reid. The building has been owned by the Palludan family since 1962.
This building also served as a giant advertising billboard for Fallon -- if you were flying in an airplane. In August of 1930 it was easy for airplane pilots flying at high altitudes to get their bearings as a result of a huge sign with the word "Fallon" stretching across the entire length of this mercantile building roof. Painted in white, the eight foot high letters on a black background served as the largest billboard in town!
Across Center Street from the Palludan block is a building that has served the county's residents continuously for almost one hundred years. Occupied by a used furniture store today, the original business began when Ira Heber (I.H.) Kent set up business in Stillwater, Churchill County's county seat, in 1876.
Maine Street: Then and Now 37
This view shows the inside of the Kolhoss store in about 1950. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
There he engaged in farming and established a mercantile business. At the age of 21, he was elected Churchill County Recorder. In 1890 he was admitted to the Bar. I.H. ultimately held various county offices, including: District Attorney, Sheriff, County Auditor, County Clerk, and County Treasurer. When Fallon became the county seat in 1904, Ira Heber Kent put his little mercantile store on skids. Using teams of horses, he pulled it into town. I.H. soon built a new store (the one that stands today) out of stone quarried from Rattlesnake Hill. The heavy mining activities in Fairview and Wonder at the
The 1904 Churchill County National Bank building. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
38 Jane Pieplow
Support plates for a new overhang on today's Openshaw Saddlery store have covered the "M" and the "G" on the old Morris & Loring sign, but the rest of the name still remains. This photograph dates from the early 1950's. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
turn-of-the-century helped make Kents one of the largest mercantile businesses in Nevada. A remodeled Kent store had its grand opening on May 27, 1950 and the store closed its doors in 1992. The building is still owned by the Robert Kent family.
Moving north we find today's "Palludan Arcade." In February of 1904, Senator George Ernst purchased this lot at 137 South Maine to build the Churchill County National Bank with R.L. Douglass as the manager. The modern edifice was built of bricks from the O'Doane brick yard. As the banking business increased, so did the size of the building as an addition was soon added. It is curious that the new building matched the old only in the choice of building materials and not in design, as the architectural details were completely different. In the mid 1950's, the building was redesigned and became known as the "Palludan Arcade." At that time the bay windows and the pediment seen in the photograph, on page 37, were removed. Only the scars of these architectural elements remain today. A recent fire in the structure has made its future uncertain.
Immediately north of the Arcade at today's Openshaw Saddlery store, Churchill County residents were cured of many ills when they stopped in to shop at the Morris and Loring Drug Store. Its original operator, Mr. E.B. Loring, served as a druggist for several generations of Fallon residents, from 1909 until his
Maine Street: Then and Now 39
death. He died on May 7, 1941, on a train trip to California where he was seeking medical attention and planning to attend a Rexall convention. His obituary in the Fallon Eagle told about his life and career:
Mr. Lori:ig first settled in Humboldt County where he worked with his step-father. Later he became postmaster at Rohnerville where he married Mrs. Loring in 1902.
1903-1909 saw Mr. Loring practicing his drug store trade in Fairview. Arriving in Fallon in 1909, he joined Harry Morris and purchased the Gardner and Keeler and Dr. Rees' drug stores, operating their new business under the name of "Morris and Loring Drug Co.," of which Mr. Loring later acquired full ownership. He operated the store until his death in 1941.
An unassuming, friendly, courteous, and upright
citizen, Mr. Loring was a member of the Odd Fellows, Masons, Knights Templar, Rotary and the Shriners.
Percy Bailey, a pharmacist under Mr. Loring, and later Bob Tucker, bought the store and continued to operate it under the name of "Morris and Loring" until the early 1980's.
Farther north on Maine Street stands a building that has probably, at one time or another, provided entertainment for nearly every man, woman and child in Churchill County. Today's Fallon Theater, once known as The Rex Theater, was built in 1920 and was the center for Hollywood entertainment and local theatrical events.
During the teens and into the twenties, the Rex Theater played an important role in the development of the Lincoln Highway. Maine Street was officially designated a part of the first national, transcontinental highway and the theater even showed a movie, made from film footage gathered from across the nation, that chronicled the construction of that highway. School children were let out of classes in order to see the show.
North of the theater, Comp-U-Build and Sierra Jewelry & Loan now occupy the lower floor of Fallon's Fraternal Hall building. Nineteen twenty-seven was the year that members of Fallon's fraternal orders banded together and purchased stock in order to build a new meeting place. As the newly-formed Fallon Fraternal Hall Association, they chose a central location on Maine Street for their new hall. Frank Woodliff, Jr. tells more:
The dedication ceremony held February 5, 1927, was attended by a great throng of Fallonites and ended with a huge ball in the new dance hall that had been incorporated into the building.
40 Jane Pieplow
The fraternal orders using the buildings at that time
were the Masons, Eastern Star, Odd Fellows, Rebekahs, Knights of Pythias, Pythian Sisters, and the Fallon Eagles.
It was agreed among the orders that the Eagles would have the ball room on New Years Eve, the Knights of Pythias would use it on Christmas Eve, and the Eastern Star on Thanksgiving Eve. Those were the days when the whole community would turn out to dance and enjoy themselves. On the street level there were store rentals.
In later years, the ball room, which was built to bridge the alley behind the structure, was used as a skating rink and there was a clothes manufacturing business in it for a short time.
In the interest of history, what now looks like a parking lot on the north side of the Fraternal Hall building was once the site of the New River building, one of the earliest structures on Maine Street. Later, it housed the Federated Stores. The so-called Federated building was characterized by lovely architectural detail in the form of tile footings around the base of modern glass showcase windows. A Fallon landmark, the structure was purchased and razed by Union Oil of California in 1964 for the purpose of enlarging their Union 76 station on the corner. That same corner is now Fallon Lightning Lube and we have come full circle.
Fallon's Maine Street has hosted many community events over the years. Parades and street dances have served to bring the community together. Perhaps its most popular tradition is the Christmas tree set up on Maine every year. The event began with the help of the Knights of Pythias in 1929 and continues today.
Although the nation's economic situation, natural disasters and substantial growth have changed the face of Fallon's Maine Street over the decades, one thing has remained an important constant -- the continued efforts by its residents to keep this community connected to its past and headed toward a prosperous future.
Maine Street Brat
Mary Nevada (Walker) Lambert
Children grow up in all kinds of situations, and some receive labels pertaining to their lifestyle. There are show business brats, circus brats, military brats, farm kids, ranch kids, but one that is seldom mentioned is the "Main Street" brat. These are the children who live over, in back of, or in the family business. These children have a lifestyle that is a little different from the children living on a quiet, residential street.
I was raised, with my sister, Evelyn (Keller, Locke) and my brother, Bob, in our mother's photo studio on Maine Street, Fallon. Yes, Maine Street is the right spelling. It seems one of the original founders of Fallon was from the state of Maine.
My story has to be a bit of my mother's story too, because we would not be living on Maine Street if it wasn't to be near her work. For many years I mentioned to mother that some day I was going to write about being a Maine Street brat. I didn't realize that my statement was hurtful to her until one day she made the comment, "I did the best I could." I quickly assured her that I thought our life was more interesting, unique and exciting than the average and that I thought it deserved to be written.
Our family lived in quarters behind the photo studio during most of my childhood. In later years we moved around the corner from Maine Street to one of the side streets, but always in the heart of the business section of town.
I believe I must have been about five years old when I first began to wait on customers. I would ask them to wait a few minutes until my mother could leave the "darkroom" where she was processing or printing films. Then I would go to the darkroom door to tell her a customer was waiting. Mother did a lot of her darkroom work in the evenings and many times during the middle of the night; but if she did work in the darkroom during business hours, either my brother, my sister, or I had to be on hand to watch the shop.
As we grew older it became second nature for us to deliver our customer's orders, ring up their money, and count out the change. We also took our turn working in the darkroom, moving the prints from tray to tray to develop them, and printing "proofs," a temporary picture.
Seemingly without much conscious effort we children had our duties and developed an ingrained work ethic. After school we hurried home, like millions of "Main Street" brats throughout the country, to take up our duties and help with the family business. I was usually allowed time to take a short break and spend a few minutes after school with my friends at the nearby soda foun-
41
42 Mary Nevada (Walker) Lambert
taro. There I would order a coke and have a short after-school visit and then it was time to get my work assignments from mother.
At the same time, it was the duty of my sister to go to the furniture store where she worked with our dad. When she arrived, he sometimes took a short break, or she watched the store if he had deliveries to make or places to go. She worked with him until they closed the doors at six.
When my dad had a car agency my brother went to work there each afternoon after school was dismissed. He also worked at the theatre as a movie projectionist for many years and at various other jobs including working on farms and ranches.
My duties were to wait on customers or to take care of the mailing of photo orders which mother had finished. I had some grocery shopping to do almost daily. Mothers did not have time to frequent the stores, so the grocery list usually mentioned brand names of items she was familiar with.
Outside of keeping up our bedrooms and doing the dishes after meals, we did not do much housework. Mother always hired a housekeeper. I didn't realize until after I was grown and married that I lacked housekeeping skills. I did like to do the ironing, so I helped with that chore occasionally.
From infancy, all of us heard that we must never touch the camera. That camera was completely off limits for any of us. Years later, when we were grown,
Mary Walker Foster took this photograph of her children doing their homework in their studio/living room on Maine Street in the late 1930's. From left to right: Nevada (Betty), Evelyn and Bob Walker. (Bob Walker photograph.)
Maine Street Brat 43
mother regretted that none of us wanted to learn photography. She taught us many things, but never the workings of the camera. We learned our lesson well; the camera was an untouchable fixture.
When mother first opened her studio on Maine Street (the lower floor of today's Fraternal Hall building) in the late 1930's, the local drug stores offered three or four-day service on their film finishing. In order to be competitive, mother offered one-day finishing. To do that it required a lot of time in the darkroom. Mother was a night person, meaning her energy level increased in the evenings. To do the film processing she did a lot of her work at night so she could work without interruptions, usually after the rest of us had gone to bed.
Consequently, it was the duty of all of us to be quiet in the mornings so she could sleep in. Each morning my dad always had his breakfast with his early rising business friends at the Sagebrush Cafe across the street.
My brother, sister and I would quietly have our bowl of cereal and get ourselves off to school. We managed, even though sometimes we had our dresses on backwards or inside out. I had curly hair that was usually combed in Shirley Temple ringlets. I could not comb it myself before school, so I held the hair back with a hairband. We always
went home for lunch, and I spent my lunch hour seated in front of mother as she combed my ringlets. I hated every minute of it and also the expression, "You have to suffer to be beautiful."
Living on Maine Street during the Christmas season was like living in a magic wonderland. We were surrounded by the sights and sounds of Christmas. All the stores and their windows were decorated with wonderful gift ideas. Holiday music was playing constantly from the loud speakers attached to the casinos across the street. The main street of Fallon is wider than the usual main streets in rural towns, so each Christmas season a stage was erected in the middle of the street and an enormous Christmas tree was put on the stage.
Then came the magical evening when the tree lights were lit. After all the
Members of the club who sponsored this beautiful tree, the Knights of Phythias, join the crowd at the Christmas celebration on Maine Street in 1929. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
44 Mary Nevada (Walker) Lambert
"oh-h-h's" and "ah-h-h's," hundreds of children would go upstairs to the Fraternal Hall were Santa Claus was waiting to see the children and hear what they wanted for Christmas. Then each child was presented with a red mesh bag shaped like a Christmas boot. In the bag was hard Christmas candy, candy ribbons, some nuts, an apple and an orange, a rare fruit during the depression years.
Living on Maine Street gave us an advantage that other young people did not have, like being asked by neighboring businesses to work as part-time help in their establishments. We knew how to earn money at an early age. We never had to look for jobs, jobs came to us. All the business people knew our parents, and Mary and Bill's kids were a ready-made work force that was handy for odd jobs.
I was hired to be a counter girl at the cleaners when their clerk went on vacation. I was hired to help take the inventory at the variety store next door to us, and one summer I helped at the pharmacy. As I grew older and was taking typing and shorthand in high school, I was asked by the County Assessor to work in the courthouse to help type the tax roll. That was long before computers.
The job in the Assessor's Office led to several more jobs at the County Courthouse. It led to working in the County Auditor's Office, the County Treasurer's Office and the District Attorney's Office. I even helped witness several marriages for the Justice of the Peace when he had the ceremony upstairs in the courtroom.
I was approached by an accountant-bookkeeper to come to work for him. He even told me the phrases that he would be using in his dictation to me, and suggested that I ask my shorthand teacher how to write them.
One thing different about living on Maine Street was our unique play area, not the usual front and back yard of the average child. We had the back alley, the roofs of adjoining businesses -- all perfect for imaginary adventures. We spent hours of fun with the scraps of paper from the neighboring newspaper office. The paper was used as play money, plane tickets or boat tickets for journeys into exotic imaginary lands, such as darkest Africa or the Far East.
The garbage of the variety store (Sprouse-Reitz) offered all kinds of adventures when we found broken dolls, dishes, doll furniture, colored yarns, ribbons, material, jewelry, etc. One time the store manager told our mother that he had one doll and one doll crib left in stock and he put them in the garbage for the girls. Another time he told her to warn the children not to eat any of the candy he had disposed of because it was wormy. The warning was not needed as we never put anything into our mouths.
One of my fondest memories of my back alley playground was hitting tennis balls against the wall of the Fraternal Hall building for hours and hours. One Easter I received a tennis racket covered with fancy Easter eggs and false green grass. That tennis racket became my favorite plaything. There was a space between the side wall of the Fraternal Hall and the newspaper office. In my imagination I was one of the world's greatest tennis players. For hours I would hit the ball with all my might against the wall. I didn't have to chase the ball because it stopped at the wall of the newspaper building.
There were apartments above the newspaper office. It is a wonder the tenants didn't scream at me to stop the noise of hitting, but no one ever did. I would
Maine Street Brat 45
start early in the morning, continue on and off during the day; and many times
played until the street lights went on in the evening.
At that time there were a lot of homeless men, hobos, who made the
rounds of all the alleys looking through the garbage. I don't remember having any
fear of them. The common remark concerning them was: "They lost everything
they had in the crash," meaning the Wall Street Crash in 1929. Who knows if it
was true or not. Nearly all the remarks I heard concerning them were compas-
sionate. One never went to the hobo town along the railroad tracks, but I never
knew of anyone being cruel to those homeless men. A lot of the men were always
accompanied by one or more dogs. They were a common sight to us playing in the
alleys. We knew several of the dogs by name, and we visited with the men as they
made their rounds. One of the dogs that we called "Whiskers" showed up at our
door for years. We always had a family dog and cat, but these stray animals were
accepted as long as they wanted to stay. Whiskers always got a few scraps of
food and some petting from us. He would visit awhile, and then he would be gone.
We also made a "halfway" family pet out of an alley cat, which we
named "Patience." She would stay with us for some period of time. She would let
us pet and cuddle her and, of course, accept what food we would give her. Then
she would disappear for long periods of time before showing up again.
If our back yard was the alley, our front yard was the city sidewalk.
Fallon is a farm community
and many of the farmers
came to town on Saturday.
The children usually went to
the movie matinee while
their parents did their shop-
ping and visiting. On Satur-
day afternoons we liked to
sit in our car in front of the
shop and watch the people
go by. It was a wonderful
way to amuse ourselves,
especially on hot summer
days when awnings were
down in front of the neigh-
boring stores. We would
watch the feet of the people
walking by, their bodies hid-
den by the awnings. Our
imagination would take over,
and we would invent vari-
ous stories about the people
attached to the feet.
My brother got a
car with a rumble seat. I
loved to sit in it in the bright Mary Walker Foster moved from her usual position behind the
sunshine, read my comic camera to sit for this portrait, taken in the 1940's. (Bob Walker
books, and watch the people photograph.)
46 Mary Nevada (Walker) Lambert
go by. I was sitting in the rumble seat Sunday morning, December 7th, 1941, when I heard an announcement coming from a loud speaker at the casino across the street announcing the attack on Pearl Harbor. No one knew what a "Pearl Harbor" was, but we knew something bad had happened.
Mother took many portraits during the evening and dinner hours. If it was at dinner time, she often sent us to eat at the Chinese restaurant across the street. Many times the Chinese cook and the Chinese people who worked in the restaurant would come to the booth where we were eating to sit with us and keep us company. They often told us the story on the Chinese Blue Willow dishes. We were highly entertained and fascinated and we discovered that all Chinese love stories are sad, heart-breaking and usually about unrequited love.
Living on Maine Street could be the best of all worlds. We had a complete public library as our second living room. If mother was photographing a family group during the evening hours she would send us to the public library, which was a small store two doors from our shop. There the world opened up to three small children. It was there that I first saw the National Geographic magazine with pictures of places and people of the world, and all the other popular magazines which were there for us to read. It was there that I saw shelves of children's books. I would read all the books by one author and when I finished, I would start on another author. We all developed into prodigious readers and have a great love of books.
The theatre was just a few doors from the shop and we saw practically every change of movies, at ten cents admission. We were not always nice little kids; we had our "sneaky adventures." Sometimes after our parents were settled at the movie, one of us would tell the ushers that we had something to tell our parents. The ushers always let one of us go in. After we were in the darkened theatre, we would go behind the draperies which covered the exit door to open the door slightly to admit the others. We would watch the movie but would be sure to leave by the same exit door before the movie ended, before the lights were turned on, and before our parents saw us.
We did dangerous things too, which could have cost us our lives. The Fraternal Hall, the town community center, was on the second story above our living space and all the stores at our end of Maine Street. We found ways to get onto the roofs of the stores and that area became one of our regular play spaces. Before air conditioning, the Fraternal Hall was cooled by enormous ceiling fans which were built in a tunnel on the roof. We found a way to open the door to the tunnel and would enter the tunnel and work our way through the blades of the fans to look down into the various rooms of the hall. I shudder to think what could have happened if the fans had been turned on.
Romance on Maine Street could be a very public affair. One of my first boyfriends during my teenage years was a young man from San Francisco who spent his summers visiting relatives in Fallon. He and I liked to go bike riding together. Since Lahontan Valley has all kinds of county roads and lanes, it was a biker's paradise.
When he came to visit me he usually brought his accordion and he would serenade me. His music filled the alley and it could be heard in all the nearby stores. I received a lot of teasing about my musical boyfriend from "The City," as the melody of "Lady of Spain" and others filled the air.
Maine Street Brat 47
My birthday is at the end of August, which, back then, was also the time of the Nevada State Fair and Rodeo in Fallon. It was a big event, and a very busy time for Mother. She would get out early to photograph the floats and individuals in the rodeo parade. After taking some pictures, she would rush back to the darkroom, process the film, print and dry the pictures, and as soon as she could she would display them in the front window of the shop. Parade participants could see them and make orders before they left Fallon for their homes.
After her morning shoot, she would go back out to the rodeo, get in the arena and take close-up pictures of the bucking horses and bulls and other rodeo activities. She would then rush back to the shop and repeat the process of the morning so she could display the photos and get as many orders as possible before the crowd left town.
My duties during this time were to take care of the shop and take orders from the pictures on display. I was the typical spoiled child. Instead of appreciating all that Mother was doing, I complained that another birthday was ruined because I had to work in the shop. It never occurred to me that my mother was risking her life in the arena with the wild bucking horses and bulls. My only thought was that I could be having fun at the fair.
Fallon, like many other rural Nevada communities, had a red light district which advertised houses of prostitution. Before the "girls" could get their business licenses to work they had to have their pictures taken for a file at the Sheriff's Office. When they came to Mother's studio, they were usually accompanied by the madam of the house. Once when they came Mother had been making dresses for my sister and me. The sewing machine was open and material was out on the sewing table. When the madam saw the work in progress she commented to mother that she had a lot of dress material and she would like to give it to Mother to make dresses for us children.
Not wanting to be rude, Mother accepted her kind offer, although she wondered if the material would be appropriate for little girls' dresses. When the material arrived it was new yardage with designs for children. Mother accepted it for what it was, a gesture from one working woman to help another hard working woman.
The theatre used to have special shows occasionally when traveling magicians, singers or dancers came to Fallon. Whenever they needed children as part of their acts we were the nearest, so we were often asked to work for them. Once my brother and some of his friends were asked to help a magician.
My sister and I were excited to see the magic show because our brother was going to be part of it. We sat through the show which was both fascinating and frightening, but we never saw our brother on the stage helping the magician. After the show we were walking home together and passed an area that was dark because the street light didn't illuminate it. All of a sudden a grotesque, hideous, disembodied face came out of the darkness towards us. We screamed at the top of our lungs and then we heard our brother laugh. He had been part of the magic act all right; his face and those of his friends, had been painted with luminous paint that glowed in the dark. When the magician let all the evil spirits out of his bag of tricks, our brother's face had been one of the evil spirits floating through the audience in the darkened theatre. I still remember it as one of the most frightening experiences in my life.
48 Mary Nevada (Walker) Lambert
Our living quarters were behind a partition which separated them from mother's work room and darkroom. It included three bedrooms, a kitchen-dining room, a small bathroom, and a large closet-storeroom. Our living room was part of the camera room when not in use for portraits. The bed I shared with my sister was under the one and only window we had. It was quite high with security bars over it.
We had a nightly ritual, which we all liked and which clearly shows how different our lifestyle was from families in homes in a residential area. Each night when the local policeman made his nightly rounds through the alley checking the back doors of all the stores using his flashlight, we would wait in anticipation for his light to shine through our window. As he passed our bedroom window, he would always say, "Goodnight kids, go to sleep." We would answer, "Goodnight, Pete."
Life on Maine Street was interesting and good!
Nevada combs Evelyn's hair in a photograph taken by Mary Walker
Foster. One benefit of having a mother who was a professional photographer was great family photographs! (Bob Walker photograph.)
A Letter Home:
"The Honest Streets of Fallon"
David Getto
I've been gone for something over 25 years. That should be enough
time to gain a little perspective on things; Fallon as a town and Fallon as a
people has always had a lot to offer.
I take real pride in the friends I have in and around Fallon. But to those
of you whom I have yet to meet, let me say this: There's something worthy of
note about a town who elects the likes
of Ken Tedford, Jr. to their Mayor-
ship. And if he runs the play action
through your City Hall anything like he
did on the basketball court as my
teammate and point man for the 1971
State Champion Churchill County
High School Greenwave Varsity Bas-
ketball Team, you can't help but have
some positive future times on the hori-
zon.
The problem with beginning
to mention names is that you are
forced to leave out far more than
there would ever be room to give
credit to. Nevertheless, you've got
another of my classmates and one of
my closest friends there which you've
also put in public office and that is
Lynn Pearce as County Commis-
sioner. Again I think this says a lot for David Getto in 1997.
the kind of folks you all are there in
Fallon. So please accept my modest compliments and allow my simple logic
which has you all now cast as automatic friends whether I know you or not!
Two years ago a team of medical specialists was marginally successful in convincing me that I was pretty sick. It got me to seriously assess the importances in my life. I discovered there was nothing more important to me than my friends. I only felt bad that I had left some behind. Through neglect and poor
49
5 0 David Getto
record keeping and other things, I had lost a lot of them. But it is, in fact, my friends who inspire me to live and give me the fuel for a future. I would not be here writing today if it were not for my friends. My biggest message to you there in Fallon right now is that I am still here and that I am still a friend.
I have always valued my growing up years there in Fallon and have felt indebted to a number of really competent teachers I had throughout my schooling in Churchill County. Let's go ahead and mention a few more of Fallon's more stellar examples.
In 1959, I started the first grade at Northside Elementary School. Mrs. Ella Hanks (1900-1995) introduced me to the world of the written English language through the simplicity of elementary phonetics. There was NO ONE in my class who did not learn what was being taught. The teacher was a joy. She knew exactly what to do and really enjoyed teaching and seeing each of us grasp the basics that would form the foundations of all future learning. There were no perplexing problems with us kids; no psychiatric evaluations and diagnoses of learning disorders, no medications and no therapies. Everyone was expected to learn. The correct thing was being taught and we all learned it.
My writing has been strongly influenced by the lady, who in high school, taught my fingers how to make a keyboard (or back then, a typewriter) sing. Beyond typing, she continues, to this day, to inspire me with her singular view of life's rewarding features. Fallon should take pride in this lovely lady and all her social impact. Her name, most fittingly, is Smiley Kent.
There is also a most beautiful human being there in Fallon who has made a very productive life out of bringing the gift of language to the fore. I was very fortunate to sit in on her creative writing (and creative thinking) class for my first college accredited course during the Spring Semester of 1971 in what was the inaugural season for Western Nevada Community College. I am sure I could easily round up a small crowd of Fallon's key players who would instantly agree with me through their own personal experience when I say that here is someone who has shone the light of understanding into many darkened corners. And that is the eminent Mrs. Anne Berlin.
Selior Ed Arciniega should know that his daily Spanish classes at Churchill County High School helped build bridges of friendship and understanding many times over for me later in life spanning what would have otherwise been serious language barriers.
Jim Bogan was more than an instructor of math at Churchill County High. He inspired higher thinking in his students. I knew within the first few minutes as I sat in my assigned seat in his classroom off the old west hallway that I was in the presence of a great mind.
Each day a spirited charge was led through the unfamiliar territory of a vast subject with vigorous certainty by this brilliant man . It was sometimes a struggle to keep up, but always an invitation to excel with your own brand of rationality.
"The Honest Streets of Fallon" 51
And outside of school, thank you Fallon, Nevada, for affording a peaceful quietude for the consideration of life. I grew up on a ranch outside of town, but I found feelings of home in and about some of those unpretentious back streets. That quiet used to be one of my favorite things.
There were nights as a teenager at the ranch where my window screen left ajar traced the path of a young man on the prowl. I could often be found on the back streets of Fallon where the old houses had soaked up some of that quietness, wandering and wondering about things and gathering my thoughts.
The boundaries were different then. From a tree-lined Williams Avenue, you could look west to view unending alfalfa fields stretching as far as the eye could see. Now that crowded thoroughfare is eroded with truck and auto traffic, franchises and general congestion. East, the town ended at the Oats Park School bus sheds and the road south (Maine Street) abruptly closed at the old Safeway, now the Churchill County Museum.
I had a friend, in school, who used to come with me sometimes when, on a Friday or Saturday night, in the middle of a movie downtown, the two of us, in our early teens, would walk out of the show and spend the last hour, before our parents picked us up, walking around town, through the alleys and the back streets, partaking of that quietude. What were we up to on those regular strolls? Juvenile mischief? Nope.
It was time to feel alive. A time to begin to feel grown up. A time to think about things and talk. It established a pattern between us which would continue as long as we were friends. Yes, there was a character that was being nurtured in us there in Fallon; being nurtured by what I call "the honest streets of Fallon."
Years later as high school finished, it was again time for thought, a special moment to be shared with two other friends. Three 18 year olds -- two guys and a girl -- were an unlikely threesome to be found on the monkey bars at Oats Park, but again it was the honest streets of Fallon that had prompted serious, constructive talk and provided the backdrop for our particular version of dialogue.
Now, when I say honest streets, what do I mean? I am referring to a quality that pervades a space as you approach it and pass along through. It can last for 50 feet or continue through a whole neighborhood. Or through a whole town. It can happen at a special time when people have created an exceptional moment or it can be there for a lifetime. An honest street is safe. It is peaceful and serene. It beckons for you to stay for a while. It can ask you to think; to wonder for a minute what is beyond the next sunrise; to think about who you are, where you are and why. Is it covered with graffiti? No, it is not. Honest people have made this street, and honest people have maintained it. It is not a place for dishonest folks to make their catastrophes and create their havoc.
Let's just take a minute and realize the value there is in a town with a climate set for thought. It doesn't have to be the dead boredom of no activity. There just has to be a civic order. There is a public awareness of those antisocial elements which must be held in check to maintain an atmosphere of authenticity. The
52 David Getto
result is a greater freedom for its citizens to discover and feel the fabric of their home and own the setting of their dwelling.
It can't be taken for granted. It is not something the government handles for us or even the local police force all by itself. There is no street maintenance program to maintain honest streets. It has to exist as a personal commitment. And it only flows from individual perspectives. Each of us (often even unknowingly), while maintaining our own individual mark of wholeness, shares a common path to create an honest street.
In a life of travels I have seen Fallon from afar, echoed in the honest faces of a multitude of towns and cities across the United States.
Once I watched the streets of Manhattan empty out on a Friday afternoon as everyone skidded rapidly across the rivers to homes on other shores and then for just a short time, before their rushed return for a nightlife of theater and activities as the weekend events struck an excited chord, there was, even in this deeply troubled and hectic city, a brief moment of quiet respite. One that you would never expect in such a dense and frenzied metropolis. It reminded me of Fallon.
It could be easy, in what can be a hostile environment in the big city, to completely lose sight of (or to have never gained sight of in the first place) what an honest street really is.
As I stood there that day in New York City amidst the potential discomfort of chaos, I had drawn on my personal experience with the honest streets of Fallon to keep things in perspective.
Later on, this city of character, now full of people, would make a quick change and for a brief moment, down on 42nd Street, that fantastic pulsating artery through midtown, a huge throng of diverse personalities would stop what they were doing, and as they shared witness to a common event, create an honest street.
I found myself easily talking with all strata of people as the barricades went into place and the traffic disappeared off of this wide boulevard. I seemed to be the only one who did not know what was about to happen.
Presently a motorcade passed us by. In the back seat of a briskly moving black limo behind protective glass and under what could only be described as stage lights waved the familiar hand of a famous Hollywood actor. In easily his greatest role, commanding everyone's attention in that severely urban world, was the then President Ronald Reagan enroute for an address at the United Nations. His timing, as always, had been planned to perfection with the city, now in the busiest of its moments. The sometimes rough and raunchy crowd had been temporarily transformed as it graciously stopped, and with heart, acknowledged a great man.
Shortly, the street would open again and fill with a Friday's unrelenting interests. On the side of the street, a small drama played out as a beautiful young woman in tears trudged along with a too-heavy suitcase toward the bus station some blocks away. She was discovering that not a single cab out of the sea of yellow that filled the streets at that hour was going to help her. They were only interested in airport runs even though without a ride or some other act of God, she was most certain to miss her bus back home to North Carolina.
"The Honest Streets of Fallon" 53
At the Port Authority Bus Station, a New York City policeman stood next to a couple of young people. He was lecturing a young man, making a point that he was up to no good and it wasn't allowed. When the young man left, he then turned to the girl who had been bothered and addressed her for some time. His point: What was she doing in the station this late at night? Where were her morals? What kind of girl was she? I was struck by the officer's self-determined personal involvement as he contributed all his best words toward the improved character of his town. There was a civic awareness and pride there. Even in the massive confusion of this place, filled with evidence that the people there did not care much about the outcome of routine events, this man was making a difference.
Something in a young Fallon man that night, although just a visitor and a long ways from home, had him taking on the task of assisting the young woman with the heavy suitcase.
I had begun to feel that I too had now joined in contributing to the positive character of this very New York night. After what seemed like an endless race through a weave of crowded sidewalks over several city blocks with the girl's heavy load, I had come abruptly to a halt at the departing gate of a North Carolina-bound bus. After all of this, with sweat beading down, we turned to each other to discover there was still a ticket to be purchased behind customer lines that were mind-boggling and with no time.
Somehow the magic of the moment parted the crowds and the bus waited for us as we rushed through the ticketing procedure and returned just minutes later to stand beside the fuming, impatient Greyhound. At the open door of her all-important ride home, I watched as the attractive young girl's tears changed to radiance.
Then suddenly and very unexpectedly I found myself on the receipt end of this Carolina woman's fervent kiss. Then, as the whole bus watched and waited, no words were there for either of us and her face read the surprise as much as mine.
Getting into her assigned seat just before the bus lurched toward the concrete ramp she waved her goodbye through a fogging window glass. Although it had certainly made an impression on everyone who witnessed it, we both understood it as no more than a truly heartfelt thank you from a woman whose name I did not even know. The look on her face was worth all the effort as I turned back toward the busy station.
Recently on a birthday card from Fallon that I received on my 44th, were the fond words from a friend describing so warmly again the Fallon I always knew including the quiet moments that had a way of setting my thoughts adrift.
Her words reminded me how important those quiet streets and times had been for me. It is worth commenting on and it is worth giving some attention to. Maybe twenty-five years have gone by, but there are some things which remain an irreducible part of our lives.
54 David Getto
Isn't it fascinating, how, there on those downtown Fallon Friday nights, two teenagers would find the quiet streets of more interest than all the latest action, glamour and glitz that Hollywood had to offer?
I wonder how many others there are today, who like us before, still walk the honest streets of Fallon, seeking meaning for their lives.
Or how many in the future will discover they too have been touched by some special times along the growing grid of Fallon's civic pride. I ask you all a favor as you read here today: Let's keep Fallon, Fallon. And those streets of hers simple, uncluttered and honest.
A Fashionable Lady:
Annie Theelan McLean
Jan Loverin
The Churchill County Museum's portrait photographs of Annie Theelen McLean (1876-1947) are a visual record of a young Nevada woman at several stages in her life. This photographic series ranges from approximately 1891 to 1907. During these sixteen years, Annie emerges from her youth, becomes a graduate of the University of Nevada Normal School, embarks upon a teaching career, works in the Kent Dry Goods store, and marries Edwin McLean.
Annie Theelan was born in St. Clair district near Fallon, Nevada, in 1876. Her parents, Henry and Rahel (Becker) Theelen, both Prussian immigrants, were early settlers in Churchill County. Along with Annie, the Theelen's had two other daughters, Katherine [married Ira Fallon] and Minnie [married Alfred Foster Branch]. Henry supported his wife and family by becoming a teamster, rancher and toll bridge operator. The Theelen family appears to have been prominent and interested in the growth of their community, as Henry was active in local politics, serving as County Commissioner in the 1880's.
The Churchill County Museum is lucky to have these four portraits of Annie. Not only do they tell about family acitivities, they are also a study in women's fashionable clothing styles. Women's fashions at the end of the nineteenth century and beginning of the twentieth century underwent many changes. Most obvious are the stylistic differences, such as the snug fit of the 1891 garment and the loose fit of the 1907 style.
As fashions changed, the ways women acquired garments did as well. In the mid-nineteenth century, ready-to-wear garments were not available for women, except for articles of outer wear, such as cloaks or capes and some types of underwear. Typically women purchased the cloth for a new garment at the dry goods shop and either made up the dress themselves or hired a dressmaker or seamstress to construct the dress. Hiring a dressmaker to make a new garment was the most desirable, as dressmakers created a fashionable garment by using a drafting system, which is a cardboard tool used to design the garment style and at the same time size it to the wearer. Drafting systems were used to create women's ensembles from the middle of the nineteenth century until the turn of the century.
According to Mary McNair Mathews of Virginia City, a silk dress made by a dressmaker in the 1870's would cost between $20 and $40, plus the
55
56 Jan Loverin
cost of the silk material. Thus, the most average housewife of the nineteenth century could not afford the services of a dressmaker. Hopefully women had some sewing skills. Many women made clothing for their entire family. However, they did not necessarily use a drafting system, but tended to use an older method of clothing construction called pin-to-the form. Instead of creating a newly-designed garment, they would take apart an existing dress and cut out the new dress using the pattern pieces of the older garment. This method was frequently used by housewives and women who called themselves seamstresses. The garments resulting from this kind of construction and styling were not considered high fashion. Typically these dresses were made of cotton, and research from Virginia City indicates that cotton wash dresses could be purchased for about $8, not including the cost of the fabric.
By the beginning of the twentieth century, the paper pattern industry took hold. Although invented earlier, paper patterns were originally unsized and were inserted into women's magazines. To use one of these patterns, the sewer would trace off the pattern and size it to the individual wearer. Then she would cut out the fabric and begin construction. Given the complex and elaborate fashions that were stylish in the nineteenth century, creating a dress by this method was not reliable. Mid-century Victorian fashions were most desirable when they fit perfectly to the body. Excess fabric or ease was unwanted and, in fact, suggested sloppiness, which in turn suggested loose morals.
By the close of the Victorian era, the styles of women's dress had dramatically changed. Fit was not as critical and full flowing gowns were popular, thereby facilitating increased use of paper patterns. By the first decade of the twentieth century the Butterick and McCalls pattern companies were producing sized patterns for men, women and children.
Annie Theelan McLean 57
Photo 1
This first portrait image of Annie Theelen above (photo 1) appears to be from the early 1890's, when she is an adolescent of 14 or 15 years of age. Her youthful appearance is evident in her facial features; however, her very fitted ensemble is a sobering look at women's nineteenth century fashions.
Annie's young face is framed within a rigid structure of clothing, with her figure undoubtedly corsetted. Corsets were popularly accepted for fashionably dressed women of the nineteenth century. The desire for women to have a small waist was encouraged by corsetting young children. Advertisements from Harper's Bazaar magazine indicate that stays were available for infants and tod-
5 8 Jan Loverin
dler aged girls. The frequency with which corsetting of young children was performed is questionable. However, confirmed research does indicate that young women were corseted and that corsetting did restrict healthful development of internal organs and ribs. But corsetting also produced a small waist and it provided the proper form for the tight fit of the fashionable bodice.
Annie's bodice is extremely fitted, as shown by the horizontal stress folds at the waistline. This type of bodice, which includes a peplum (the additional fabric at the bottom of the bodice), is referred to as a "basque." The center front of the basque is shirred, or gathered, with tiny vertical pleats with more secured shirring at the waistline. The snug fit of the shoulder is created by the deep cut of the armscye (a term used in tailoring and dressmaking relating to the shape or outline of the armhole), where the sleeve joins the bodice. Whereas the shoulder line of blouses in the 1990's hang directly on the shoulders, the shoulder seam on garments such as this are cut lower onto the shoulder and upper back. This practice, along with the severe armscye area, restricts the wearer from much physical movement. Annie would have not been able to lift her arms above her head comfortably, if at all. The most distinguishing factor for determining the date of Annie's portrait photograph is the high puff at the top of her sleeves, which was fashionable from 1890-1891.
The neckline of Annie's bodice features a high collar accented with a collar pin. The upper shoulder and neckline area also feature a grosgrain bow on her left shoulder. Her skirt appears to fit gently over her hips with slight fullness at the back.
Annie's ensemble looks to be made of the same fabric, probably a fine gauge wool such as gabardine or serge. Popular colors in the 1890's were soft greens and browns. This dress would have been custom-made by a dressmaker for Annie. Her hairstyle features long hair, tautly pulled up and back with a mass of front curls, which had been popular from the early 1890's. Annie is wearing drop earrings, also typical of that time.
In the photograph on the next page (photo 2), Annie has completed her education and is celebrating her graduation by posing with her diploma. It is difficult to surmise if Annie is graduating from high school or is receiving her two year degree from the Normal School at the University of Nevada, Reno. According to family documents, Annie graduated from school in Reno (date unknown) and received her degree from the University in 1898.
The most distinguishing factors for determining the date of this portrait are the large leg-of-mutton sleeves. This silhouette accented the upper torso, providing a dramatic hourglass figure. In the decade of the 1890's, the "fashionable" sleeves expanded and contracted in size. In the previous portrait the sleeve puffiness was small and was located at the shoulder. By 1896 the sleeve has reached its maximum, as shown in this photograph. If indeed, Annie Theelan was fashion conscious (as she appears to be), this photograph could be from 1896, thus making it from her high school graduation.
On the other hand, fashions may have been a little slow to reach Fallon, and Annie may have chosen to wear this gown for her college graduation, even though it was about two years out of style.
Annie Theelan McLean 59
Photo 2
Whether or not Annie is celebrating her high school or college graduation, she is lovely in her white two piece ensemble. The fabric of the garment is probably a fine handkerchief silk and it appears to have a lightweight silk overlay, possibly a silk batiste or organdy. It is difficult to see the fit of the bodice, but it appears to be looser than in the 1891 photograph. There is a sash around the waist and it is tied on her right side. The neckline of the bodice is scooped and is finished with a large bow on her left shoulder. Annie is wearing what appears to be elbow length white (probably kid) gloves. The shape of the skirt is difficult to determine, but probably is gored and quite full at the hemline with the overlay clearly visible.
Annie has emerged from her youth and is now a picturesque young adult in the photograph on the next page (photo 3). Dressed in what appears to be a rich, mottled silk fabric, Annie assumes a striking pose. Her shoulders are back, her face framed by stud earrings, her hair is swept up in the Gibson Girl style and her smile is confident. This photograph was probably taken between 1900 and
60 Jan Loverin
Photo 3
1903. During these three years, Annie's father died, she became Fallon's first in-town school teacher and she and her mother began investing in property.
Annie's fashion silhouette shows a sense of maturity. Her ensemble is very stylish, continuing with a fitted bodice and a smooth, hip-clinging skirt. This two piece ensemble reveals a chemisette inset on the bodice of vertically shirred white silk with a high neckline, edged in a fine lace. Annie is wearing a necklace with what appears to be a locket and a small brooch at her neckline. The fit of the bodice is tight, as horizontal wrinkles are evident on Annie's left side. She is still
Annie Theelan McLean 61
corsetted, with the shape of the corset elongating her torso. The bodice features wide revers, or lapels, with cascading folds on either side of the chemisette and the white underlining exposed. These revers appear to be edged in narrow ruffles, rather than lace. The sleeves have still retained some upper fullness from the popular "leg-of-mutton" era, continuing with a smooth line of what appear to be cuffs. Very popular at this time was the slightly dipped center front with the clasped belt.
The snugly fitting skirt is typical of this era. It was created by the use of hip pads, which were worn underneath the long lined corset. The corset began just below the breasts and compressed the torso, hips and thighs. The hip pads were used to create a smooth, wrinkle free drape of the skirt. Annie's posture illustrates the beginning of the "S" silhouette, which is further enhanced in the last portrait. The "S" figure was created by the corset pushing the chest forward and thrusting the hips out behind.
Annie's statuesque pose is further heightened by the balance of her large hat. This very flat crowned style with wide brim appears to be made of starched and ruffled batiste or organdy with evidence of darker feathers lying across the top of the hat. Millinery was a very fashionable aspect of dress during the nineteenth and early twentieth century, and women adorned their headwear heavily with flowers, crushed ribbons, leaves, and feathers.
This dramatic photo of Annie could possibly be an engagement portrait, as a ring is noticeable on her left hand. Annie married Edwin McLean in 1906; however, it is not known when they became engaged or how long an engagement period she and Edwin had.
This relaxed and final posed portrait of Annie (photo 4) can be dated to after 1906, since she married Edwin McLean on November 20 of that year and her engagement and wedding ring are obvious in the photo. This portrait of Annie in repose contrasts dramatically with the prior portraits; Annie is now sitting, and the fabric of this gown differs sharply with that of the other three portraits. By the turn-of-the-century, not only had styles changed, but the heavy silk taffetas, brocades and thick woolen fabrics of the Victorian era were no longer fashionable. Popular fabrics were voile, chiffon, net, lightweight faille, or crepe and they were typically adorned with either beading, ribbon or lace, such as Annie is wearing.
It is difficult to put an exact date on this image, as fashions from the early 1900's to about 1908 retained a similar silhouette called the mono-bosom style. The slight center front fullness of the previous photo becomes exaggerated in the first decade of the twentieth century. The mono-bosom silhouette was created by the newly-shaped corsetry of the day. The corset actually forced the bosom forward and thrust the hips back. The bosom was then enhanced by wearing a "bust extender," which was a series of flounces at the center front, worn over the corset but under the dress.
Annie's dress is two-piece with a yoked bodice accentuated with contrasting lace that is crisscrossed on the yoke and sleeves. The waist is well-defined by a satin sash, as are the yoke and the bow at the center front neckline.
62 Jan Loverin
Photo 4
Annie's skirt gracefully falls over the hips, ending in horizontal bands of contrasting lace with three rows of flounces. Dresses such as this one could have been either custom made by a dressmaker or purchased ready-to-wear at a dry goods store.
In this image, Annie's hairstyle is pinned up on her head and is quite curly. At this time, when women brushed their hair, they kept the hair which remained in
Annie Theelan McLean 63
the brush and put it in ajar. When they had acquired enough they wrapped the hair around a pad, creating a "rat." Rats were used to provide fullness for this Gibson Girl look.
This portrait of Annie has a soft, subdued quality. Probably recently married and possibly pregnant with her first born, Louvena, Annie is soon to become a mother and take on yet another role in her very diverse life.
In conclusion, these four portrait images of Annie Theelan McLean provide us with insight into the varied appearance of a young Nevada woman at the turn-of-the-century. By examining the series, we see visual impressions of a very fashionable lady, of one who took pride in her appearance. According to family records, Annie's family had some means and so she was able to follow fashion trends. But we also know that Annie was a lady emerging from the domination of the Victorian era into the twentieth century, a period of advances for women. She was educated, she worked outside the home, jointly owned property with her mother, and she and her husband raised a family of two children on a ranch in the Lahontan Valley. Annie was a diversified individual and no stranger to hard work, yet there is a feminine gracefulness about her that is evident in these rare Nevada images.
[Ed note: How can changes in fashion be helpful to the historian? Most museums, archives and historical societies own hundreds of photographs that are not dated and often the people pictured are not known. Detailed knowledge of fashions can help historians place these photographs in time, allowing them to be used more productively for research projects and exhibits. The research done on the four photographs of Annie Theelan constructed a time line for the Churchill County Museum, thanks to the expert eye of Jan Loverin, the Nevada State Museum's Curator of Clothing.
For further reading on this fascinating subject, a new book has just been written by author Joan Severa entitled, Dressed for the Photographer: Ordinary Americans and Fashion, 1840-1900. Jan had the pleasure of hosting Ms. Severa in Carson City a few months ago and she gained even more knowledge about past fashions during this visit.]
From Telegraph to Telephone: A History of
the Churchill County Telephone Company
Jane Pieplow
That Churchill County has the first county-owned telephone system in the United States is the claim of some old timers in this valley. It is a well known fact by some people that the present splendid telephone system owned by the county and covering the valley like a network, had its foundation through the purchase of the remnant of the old overland telegraph line that was abandoned when the Central Pacific was built across Nevada connecting the Atlantic and Pacific by rail.
Fallon Eagle, November 17, 1928
By the 1920's, Churchill County did indeed have a "splendid telephone system." In 1928 only a few county residents could remember the days when long distance communication had to be conducted solely by mail. Perhaps fewer still remembered six decades earlier when the whole nation watched with anticipation as miles of telegraph wire was strung, finally offering hope for efficient transcontinental communication.
In 1861 the Western Union Telegraph Company built the Pacific portion of the Transcontinental Telegraph Line that ran from Carson City, Nevada, to Omaha, Nebraska, uniting the western frontier with cities in the east. The Outland Telegraph Company was hired to construct the Pacific Route from Carson City, Nevada, to Salt Lake City, Utah. This portion of the Pacific Telegraph Line ran through Churchill County following the old Pony Express trail near Carson Lake, south of where Fallon is located today.
Five years later, another line was built by the U. S. Pacific Telegraph Company that ran north of Fallon, from Fort Churchill to the Carson River and through Desert Wells to Stillwater. Less than a decade had passed before Western Union Telegraph Company revised the Transcontinental Line, routing the new telegraph line through the northwestern part of Churchill County to Trinity. The two older lines were abandoned by Western Union and used by residents in a handful of mining camps and on a few ranches.
These older lines became less important to the Transcontinental Telegraph system. By this time Western Union had consolidated with U.S. Pacific
64
The Churchill County Telephone Company 65
Telegraph Company and they decided that it would be to their advantage to sell the lines to the residents of Churchill County.
The Telegraph in Churchill County
What led Western Union to think that Churchill County residents would be interested in purchasing their old lines? Both Western Union officials and local residents knew all too well how inconvenient it was to contact others in nearby communities, not to mention places farther away. If time was no object, a slow message and reply was no problem, but what if it was an emergency? If a doctor in Wadsworth was needed by ranchers who lived on the "Upper Sink" thirty-five miles away, they had to travel over an unimproved road to the county seat at Stillwater and telegraph for help by way of Virginia City, Carson City, and on through Reno to get their message back to Wadsworth! This inconvenience, and others like it, prompted residents of Churchill County to make a move that would allow them better services.
Many heavy and heated debates between settlers residing along the Carson River, town folks living in Stillwater and the County Commissioners occurred in the summer of 1889 over who would cover the cost of the purchase of the portion of the telegraph line that ran from Frenchman Station to Virginia City, via Desert Wells and Stillwater. Ultimately, Commissioners Josiah J. Cushman, Adam R. Jeffrey and David M. Wightman decided that the County would buy the line for the sum of $975. After this purchase, changes were made to the original lines. Twenty-five miles of wire and poles were relocated to the farm district southwest of Stillwater. Minutes from the commission meeting of October 7, 1889 described some of the changes to take place:
It was ordered that the Clerk advertise for bids for the constructing of 25 miles of telegraph line north of F.A. Austin's ranch, thence south 6 miles to Lem Allen's house, thence east along the public road as far as said 25 miles will reach. The first 14 miles of said line to be built by nailing insulators on the telegraph poles now standing and wire strung thereon. The remainder 11 miles to be built by setting poles 75 yards apart and 3 feet deep in the ground Insulators to be nailed on each and wire to be strung thereon. All to be finished in a good and workmanlike manner.
The telegraph line was duly re-routed and it was not long before the lines were converted for telephone use. The Churchill County Telephone and Telegraph Company was now in business!
66 Jane Pieplow
Josiah J Cushman David M Wightman
Through the Decades
The history of over one hundred
years of service to the people of Churchill
County by the Churchill County Telephone
System could never be told in a few short
pages. What follows are some of the high-
lights of important activities and milestones
from each decade.
William Murphy started the 1890's by
continuing to move old telegraph lines, a job
he had started in 1889. In 1892 he submitted Adam R. Jeffrey
a bill to the County for $10 -- the cost of tak-
ing down and hauling an extra mile of telegraph line from the desert near the mining town of Fairview. Upon reviewing his bill, the Commissioners remarked, "extras like this raise hell with the county budget!" For the next few years, Commissioners entertained bids from a number of contractors for the moving of old and the construction of new telegraph lines. Each contractor had to post a surety bond in case he did not uphold his end of the bargain.
In April of 1896 Churchill County moved in step with the times and the Commissioners officially changed the telegraph system into a telephone system. The minutes of this important meeting dealt more with the description of the work to be done rather than the impact on the company's future.
The Churchill County Telephone Company 67
It was ordered that the present County Telegraph Line be changed into a Telephone System, and IB. Ferguson be authorized to have all joints in the telephone line soldered, to make necessary repairs and connections, to take down wire when necessary, and to put up wire and put in posts where necessary.
In May of 1896, the commissioners ordered ten long distance telephones from the California Electrical Works in San Francisco. The firm sent a trained "expert" to install the phones and to see if the line was operating correctly. Commissioner J.B. Ferguson was assigned to supervise the expert's work and to show him the various locations or offices for the phones. Apparently Ferguson was not happy with this arrangement for he passed the job on to Commissioner W.D. Epperson. His reasoning was that he did not have time to "fiddle with telephones."
Even without trained experts on staff in those early years, local ranchers aided the county by using their construction skills. Farmers got permission to move telephone wire and poles to suit their needs -- at no charge to the county. If that was a benefit, Commissioners had to put up with requests from others who asked for, or demanded, a line to be constructed to their residence or business. With no extra funds or manpower to spare, these requests were often denied.
New technology called for new rules. With telephones available to everyone, to those making calls and to those who just listened in, the possibility of the use of profane language over the phone was discussed. In February of 1897 the Commissioners ordered:
• • • the owners of the houses in which telephone boxes are placed are hereby appointed agents of the County for the care, management and use of the boxes on their premises. The use of profane, vulgar or obscene language is strictly prohibited on the telephone line of Churchill County and any agent of the line herein appointed who permits parties on the premises of said agents to use vulgar, profane or obscene language on the telephone line will have the boxes removed from their premises and it is further ordered that a copy of this order be posted beside each telephone box in the County.
By the end of the decade, and into the beginning of the next, Commissioners were getting pressure from county residents to relocate old telegraph lines and poles. They wanted to create party telephone lines that would terminate at the store of J.W. Richards at "Jim Town." There was no city of Fallon at the turn-of-the-century but Richard's store near Mike Fallon's ranch was an ideal place for the new telephone lines. Situated at a dusty crossroads between the St. Clair District and the town of Stillwater, the store was a stopping place for those needing
68 Jane Pieplow
goods and those sending and receiving mail. Indeed, by 1903 the emerging city of Fallon, centered on this spot, would wrest the title of County Seat from Stillwater.
At the turn of the century, other projects were in the works that would affect the county's fledgling telephone company. Theodore Roosevelt signed the Reclamation Act of 1902 which established a federal reclamation system, financed from the sale of public land. The Newlands Reclamation Project was underway in Churchill County with the construction of a 30 mile canal to divert Truckee River waters into the Carson River, and with the construction of Derby Dam on the Truckee River.
The U.S. Government's Bureau of Reclamation was building a communication network of their own along the miles of local canals and into their ditch houses and offices. In July of 1901 the Sunset Telephone Company was allowed to place fourteen telephone boxes on the Stillwater and Wadsworth telephone line at a cost of one dollar per month per box for the term of one year.
The next year, with the Fallon community continuing to grow, the Commissioners received bids for a switchboard operator to attend a switchboard in or near Fallon. J.M. Smitten was awarded the job and all that came with it. In exchange for his $38 per month salary, he also had to furnish a place to house the switchboard! Records show that the city was growing rapidly at this time and the telephone company was growing with it. In 1902 space was rented for a telephone office from I.H. Kent for $96 per year. By 1904 a larger space was needed and the company moved to another Kent building at the cost of $100 per year.
Prompt payment for telephone services was imperative to the operation of the telephone company. Human nature being what it is, the county auditor was to hand over the unpaid bills for telephone box rentals to the sheriff for collection.
Bigger switchboards, more calls, and requests for 24 hour service were elements that brought women to work for the Churchilll County Telephone Company. Lizzie Austin, J.M. Smitten's sister, was one of the first women telephone operators for the county. Her replacement, Margaret Day, was hired at $35 per month in 1904.
In addition to revenue provided by local phone users and the Bureau of Reclamation, by late in the decade mining was on the upswing, adding numbers to the customer base. Camps like Rawhide, Wonder and Fairview helped Fallon to blossom as a freighting center. Communication needs were in demand and the Commissioners were busy dealing with mining company requests for additional lines and services.
So much was happening that the rented telephone office was once again outgrown. This time the company was moved to a room in the west side of the Churchill County Courthouse and two operators, called "centrals," worked the board. H.C. Shear was placed in charge of purchasing all telephone supplies and
The Churchill County Telephone Company 69
supervising the work of all employees. In 1907 he established the telephone rate schedule:
Individual service $ 4.00 per month
Two party service $ 3.00 per month
Four party service $ 2.50 per month
Six party service $ 2.00 per month
No charge for installation on any contract for one year or more.
The Telephone Company was still functioning somewhere between an established business and a fledgling one. Commissioners tried to cut expenses in 1909 by getting rid of the cashier, ticket clerk and the company "saddle bronc," presumably used as transportation by employees who checked for downed lines. They also cut back on switchboard service by discontinuing it from 9:30 p.m. to 5:30 a.m. Five months later the board had taken so much heat from irate customers that night service was resumed and within two years another cashier/ticket clerk had been hired.
Meanwhile the problem of where to house the growing company was about to be solved. In February of 1911 the Commissioners began to seriously consider a major expansion project -- a new magneto switchboard and a building in which to house it. Telephone Company Manager R.R. Ruprecht ordered the
Churchill County Telephone & Telegraph operators Gladys Allison (left) and Cora Stewart, pictured here in July of1925. Operators were also in charge of watching the water pressure gauge for the city ofFallon. If there was a sudden change, the City engineer would be contacted. The gauge can be seen in this photograph in the upper left hand corner. Operators also rang the fire calls for Fallon, tested the fire alarm at noon and handled ambulance calls. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photo Collection.)
70 Jane Pieplow
switchboard while Commissioners made a land deal with Mrs. Robert Shirley and I.H. Kent. Two lots were purchased west of the jail building. In October of that same year the new building was completed at a cost of $3,500 and a janitor was hired at the unheard of sum of $15 per month.The new building was certainly large enough to allow the company to run efficiently, but for nearly a year there was a major sanitation problem as no water or toilet facilities had been installed!
In November of 1912 a complete map of the Churchill County Telephone System was drafted. This map, still in existence today, shows the county telephone lines as well as the United States Reclamation Service lines along the various canals, ditchhouses and dams on the Fairview Mine, Utah, Nevada and Idaho telephone lines.
As more and more telephone customers began to make phone calls, it appears that certain parties were in the practice of listening (or rubber-necking) into conversations passing over the lines. This was an easy task as calls on party lines (the only option at this time) produced rings at every home. Picking up the receiver just to make sure it wasn't your call became a habit with some customers, but this practice caused the heat coils to be burned out in the central office. Commissioners ordered that the manager of the County Telephone System arrange to ascertain just who these parties were and, as fast as they were located, to disconnect their phones!
A new 100 line switchboard was installed in 1913 necessitating that customers help the operators by giving them the number of the person they were trying to reach, marking the first use of telephone numbers. Informality had been the custom up to this time -- just ring "central" and tell the "girl" who you wanted to reach. That year the newspaper and the new phone book reminded residents to "call by number" instead of using names.
Telephone collections must have been tough during 1914. The Commissioners found it necessary to transfer the sum of $1,300 from the general fund to the telephone fund. Three years later a similar transfer of $2,920 was made. Nineteen seventeen saw the Commissioners borrowing $16,000 as an emergency loan from the State of Nevada to help fund the construction and upkeep of roads and bridges and for the construction of new telephone and long distance toll lines in the county.
With World War I in full swing, the Churchill Chapter of the American Red Cross was given free local telephone service. Long distance calls were still billed at the going rate.
Right after the war, more telephone lines were added to the system and in 1921 Frank E. Anderson was selected as manager of the Telephone Company. This position was advertised yearly, with prospective employees submitting a bid package along with their job credentials. Job "perks" were few, and Anderson had to furnish his own automobile to be used for "trouble shooting." He had to pay for all car repairs and upkeep but the County provided oil and gas.
The Churchill County Telephone Company 71
Stella Richart works on the books as the first female bookkeeper/cashier for the Churchill County Telephone Company. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
In 1922 Mrs. Stella Richart became the first female bookkeeper/cashier to work for the telephone company. Her salary was $90 per month and she had to furnish a surety bond of $2,000 to accept the job. C.W. Bafford was hired on as head lineman three years later at a salary of $175 per month and his surety bond was $1,000. The company must have appreciated his good service, because he stayed on until 1931. Along with Richart and Bafford, other company employees included nine women working the switchboard, and a crew of three men who were kept busy installing new telephone lines.
The Bell Telephone Company of Nevada had been associated with the Churchill County Telephone System for a number of years, adding lines to improve service throughout the region. In 1925 the County Commissioners were asked to build an additional circuit from Fallon to Fernley to cut down on the congestion over the long distance lines. The county was in a position to do so and the line was completed in 1926.
In exchange for the use of the Truckee Carson Irrigation District's telephone lines (those put up by the Bureau of Reclamation years earlier) the County allowed TCID free phone service at all of their locations. During this decade, problems plagued the company regarding power induction into the phone
72 Jane Pieplow
An unidentified woman stands in front of the Churchill County Telephone building about 1916. The stone jail building can barely be seen to the far right. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
lines from the power plant at Lahontan Dam. Head Lineman Bafford was authorized to attend a hearing before the Public Service Commission in Carson City, Nevada. Perhaps feeling the economic boom that was raging across the country in 1927, the County paid for Bafford's trip!
Even as the nationwide depression deepened in the 1930s, Churchill County's Telephone System found it had to continue to upgrade its services. In 1931 a representative of the Kellogg Switchboard Company appeared before the board to give suggestions as to which switchboard model would be the best purchase. Graybar Electrical Company was also consulted as to the logistics of the move of the new switchboard, a move that would have to take place with no disruption of phone services. A man from Minden, Nevada, came to call on the board saying he would offer his services in the installation of the new switchboard in the telephone office and in May of 1931 the Commissioners purchased a new Kellogg switchboard for $7,180. Equipped to handle 400 lines, the biggest ad-
The Churchill County Telephone Company 73
vancement was that the crank disappeared from most of the city's telephones (rural phones were not affected). This was heralded as great news by the Churchill County Eagle which announced joyously, "New Telephone Equipment Will Save the Nerves!" The article went on to state:
The limit will be four patrons to the party line and what's more and better, one patron can be called without any other phone on the line ringing. No more answering the phone in the middle of the night only to find it's for your neighbor and you didn't count the rings right. When the telephone rings it's your call. Moreover, there'll be no more cranking to get central. Just lift the receiver and every telephone in the United States and in foreign countries will be yours to command.
That same year Western Union provided a unique bit of revenue to offset some of these expenses by obtaining permission to send its night telegrams through the telephone office as they continued on to Reno, Nevada.
Another way to reduce expenses is to raise customer rates, and the telephone company did so on certain classes of telephone service later in 1931. Collecting on accounts in arrears, a seemingly never-ending job, was also pursued at this time. Customers owing $20 or more were requested to pay at least 50% of their charges. If payment was not made in the allotted time period phone service to the customer would be terminated.
Added revenue and the dunning notices must have helped because soon the telephone company's building was enlarged with the addition of a 20' x 30' basement to be used as a work room. Two thousand five hundred dollars were spent on the addition which is still in use today.
Nineteen thirty-three saw the end of the annual bidding for the telephone manager's job. As of January, the position was put under the direct supervision of the County Commissioners. D.H. Townsend was hired at $160 per month and given full charge of the company's employees.
The end of the decade brought about a situation with which the County Commissioners had become all too familiar -- the telephone company was overdrawn. A temporary loan for $300 came from the Fish and Game Fund to cover the company's deficit. Two months later the loan was repaid.
With the beginning of the decade that was to thrust the United States into World War II, the contract begun in the 1930's between the Churchill County Telephone Company and Western Union Telegraph Company was terminated.
In January of 1941 it was the Telephone Company that came to the rescue of the Churchill County Road Department by allowing that department to borrow $5,000 from the telephone fund. The sum was repaid in December 1941.
74 Jane Pieplow
With the war in full swing, telephone communications were constructed for the Naval Auxiliary Air Station at Fallon (NAAS). Another Kellogg switchboard was purchased for the air base as were poles, crossarms and 190 miles of copper wire. At this time the American Women Volunteer Services received free telephone services from the Churchill County Telephone System. This helped greatly with their cause -- to furnish telephones, coffee and donuts free of charge to all servicemen. Another recipient of the Commissioners' generosity was the Young People's Recreation Hall in downtown Fallon which also received free telephone service.
Elden Best was appointed manager of the Telephone System in 1943. He entered into contracts with the Navy and CAA officials for the development of Freeman Field Airport, completed by Dodge Brothers Construction Company in 1942. Freeman Field, now NAS Fallon, was named in honor of Fallon's WWII test pilot, Garnett Freeman [1915-1942]. By unanimous consent of the Board it was agreed that the Churchill County Telephone System would bear the cost of extending a telephone line for use at the Freeman Field Airport.
At this point in time, the commissioners decided that one of them should be responsible for each department under the county, a system that is still is use today. In 1943 Commissioner S.R. Downs was the first commissioner representative to the County Telephone and Telegraph System.
Things were generally looking up for Telephone System employees in 1943. Another unanimous vote by the Churchill County Commissioners authorized Best to grant employees a two week paid vacation every year after one full year of service. The vacation periods were to be set by the telephone manager.
In 1944, the Navy was still busy upgrading its telephone service at NAAS. A new PABX switchboard, purchased by the county, was installed at the base, and 67 telephones were added to their lines.Fallon's central office was growing again as 300 common battery lines and 30 magneto lines were added to the fourth position of the switchboard. Fifty more telephones were purchased for the Fallon Installation Department as well. Manager Elden Best passed away in November of 1945 and Waldo Davis took over that position.
Following the surrender of the Japanese in the Pacific in 1946, the Navy closed down operations at the Naval Auxiliary Air Station. Davis was given permission to return the two PABX switchboards that were serving the Navy to the company's supplier, Kellogg Switchboard & Supply Company for credit.
Davis did not keep his telephone company position very long as in that same year G.E. Baker became the new manager. He had an unusual problem on his hands. With the closing of operations at NAAS Fallon and the munitions depot in Hawthorne, many Churchill County residents were purchasing barracks and other structures and moving them onto their properties. This often wreaked havoc with power and telephone lines and took many a telephone employee away from other, more pressing work. Baker issued the ultimatum that anyone moving
The Churchill County Telephone Company 75
buildings through, in, or about Churchill County would be charged $2.50 per man
hour for the trouble of the raising or the lowering of the telephone lines.
Nineteen forty-seven was a year of changes. TCID ended their free use
of telephone services when it agreed to sell their district-owned telephone lines to
the Telephone System for the sum of $7,000. In turn, the Commissioners agreed to
pay the federal government the sum of $7,000 for the purchase of all lines, poles
and equipment that the company had been leasing, thus making their telephone
service bargain with TCID an even trade. In May of that year, G.E. Baker
resigned and Harold Rogers was appointed manager of the Telephone System, a
position he held until 1976.
Money was available in 1948 so a four car garage (where the Sheriff's
office is located today) and shop were added to the rear of the telephone building.
Telephone operators had reason to rejoice the next year as they received a forty
hour work week and a raise in pay. The "girls" could now earn up to $175 per
month after two years of service.
The physical plant was changing as well. In 1951, the City-County fire
house put the squeeze on the telephone company when it was constructed along
the west side of that building.
At the same time, the once-adequate telephone office was again in need of
expansion. Not one to fall
behind the times, the Tele-
phone Company reviewed
details for the move from a
manual switchboard to a dial
system two years later. The
estimated cost of the new
Kellogg Crossbar Dial Switch
system was $90,500. More
room was needed for the new
equipment so another addition
was added to the back of the
building. Commissioner E.R.
Allyn made the momentous
first dial call on October 1,
1954. The last magneto crank
phones were located at
Swingle Bench and were
changed to the new dial
system in 1957 or early 1958.
Telephone Company Manager Harold Rogers in the 1970's. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
76 Jane Pieplow
The armed forces continued to have a positive impact on the growth of the Telephone Company. In 1954 the Navy and the Air Force required a large communications system for site Z-156. The Department of Defense used the site as part of its national program of early warning notification systems. The resulting contract kept the local telephone company crew busy with installations on the leading edge of technology.
As the 1950's came to a close, company documents reflected a prosperous business. For example, the customer base had grown so large that the job of printing the telephone books was turned over to the General Telephone Directory Company to handle the now complicated printing project. General prosperity was indicated by the fact that, in 1958, the telephone company waived the county hospital's telephone bill for one year. Several short term loans were also made by the company whose assets were now nearly $1,000,000.
During the 1960's the Telephone Company again outgrew its location and in 1961 plans were made to build a new building at 50 West Williams. Expansion of the Navy and Air Force facilities and the addition of mobile telephone service kept the company hopping. That same year the new structure was built. Marie (Gomes, Madsen) Rogers, a switchboard operator for many years, said the problem of moving the switchboard without interrupting telephone service was solved when a ramp was built between the new structure and the old cement block building. On moving day, the old switchboard was rolled into the new building with the operators walking beside it, plugging and unplugging the lines as necessary! A few months later, a new switchboard was ready to replace the old. The transfer had been made and the telephone calls went on as before with the customers none the wiser!
By the mid-1960's the company was facing the need for still more expansion and technological improvements in order to keep up with the telecommunications industry. At the same time, county, law enforcement officials and other personnel were feeling the need for a larger courthouse and jail. There were also concerns over the crowded conditions at most of the schools. For some residents, the cost of improving both the Telephone Company and county facilities was too much. One solution was to sell the Telephone Company to a private firm, using some of the money from the sale for other county improvements. In 1966, Churchill County Commissioners Don Travis, Freeman Morgan and Frank deBraga decided to place this hotly-debated question on the September ballot for voter approval.
In doing research for the ballot question, county officials asked for an opinion from the Federal Grand Jury on the merits of selling the company. They sent a report to the county advising them to have a disinterested, qualified third party prepare a study to determine if this was a wise investment for the county, considering the number of dollars to date invested, and the additional monies needed for the Telephone Company expansion. Locally, the firm of Kafoury,
The Churchill County Telephone Company 77
On August 30, 1961, Mary Walker Foster took this photograph of the groundbreaking ceremony that took place for the Telephone Company's new building. From l-r: Leo Lewis, City Councilman; Grant Davis, District Attorney; Jack Tedford, Mayor; Rollie Kolstrup, County Commissioner; Harold Rogers, Telephone Company Manager; Harry Lemon, Contractor; Ralph Casazza, Architect. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
Armstrong, Bernard and Bergstrom completed the financial study and reported its findings to the commissioners. That report objectively outlined the financial pros and cons of such a sale and the findings were used to educate the public before the election.
Those promoting the sale of the company cited many beneficial reasons for doing so. They would no longer have to hold to the state statute that allowed the Telephone Company to borrow money only by bonding. These bonds used the county's credit, not the Telephone Company's, to pay back money if a bond issue was approved by voters. Additionally, the amount of the bonds that could be issued was limited to twenty percent of the appraised value of the Telephone Company -a small amount when large amounts of money were needed. It was also predicted that phone rates would be raised to help cover the costs of the new upgrades.
Another attractive advantage to selling the Telephone Company to a private firm was the $30,000 to $40,000 in taxes that would be paid to the county by the business each year. The sale of the company, estimated at $4,400,000, would leave approximately $2,000,000 to be invested, with the interest available for use on county projects. Two projects high on the list were the construction of a new courthouse and jail, with school improvements following a close third.
78 Jane Pieplow
Those opposing the sale of the company argued that the Telephone Company did make regular payments to the county in lieu of the ad valorum taxes by contributing to Commissioner's salaries and by providing service for fire and ambulance crews. The 20% rule on bond issues could be revised in the legislature so as to increase, as necessary, the limit to which bonds could be issued. The opposition also expressed the fear that if the company were sold, long-time employees could face layoffs and the loss of their accrued retirement benefits when the new company took over. There was also no certainty that a new company would put $1,000,000 into needed telephone improvements upon purchase of the Telephone Company, nor that telephone service costs would not rise.
As voting day neared, residents were divided on which way to vote with many disliking the way a packaged deal was represented on the ballot. A "yes" vote indicated the voter agreed to all of the following: allow the sale of the Telephone Company, approve the use of money to build a new courthouse and jail and approve the use of money to build new schools or purchase school sites.
When the 2,808 votes were tallied following the September 6, 1966, election, the fate of the Churchill County Telephone Company had been decided by a small margin of 184 votes. The company would not be sold!
County residents living in Dixie Valley in 1968 were glad when phone lines finally reached them. A pay phone was installed in front of the Dixie Valley school. Unfortunately, its operation was unreliable. However, the twenty customers in the valley waiting for phone service did receive 4-party lines later that year. In other parts of the county, those fed up with long distance calls that took forever to go through were rewarded when an additional 36 long distance circuits were routed from Churchill County into Reno.
Nineteen sixty-nine was the year the telephone company expanded their operations to the former Silver State Construction Company property on South Maine Street, allowing room for equipment storage, truck fleet parking and maintenance shop.
A second story was added to the Williams Avenue building in 1970. Other major projects during this decade included a vault improvement program in the underground duct on East Williams in Fallon. Plant expansion and an expansion of the dial office were also important projects. Electronics and computers entered the field of telephone service and these components were added to the company's equipment. Company assets by 1975 were $5,767,000.
In 1976, Ted Hunnewell was appointed General Manager of the Churchill County Telephone Company, replacing Harold Rogers who had retired that year.
In 1980 the Churchill County Telephone Company celebrated the installation of its 10,000th telephone! Today that number would be nearly 20,000, but as a result of deregulation, which enabled customers to buy their own phones, only access lines are allowed to be counted. In 1982 FCC deregulations procedures made extra work for the telephone company. There were so many phase in and
The Churchill County Telephone Company 79
out of procedure protocols that it was difficult to contend with. Rates were predicted to quadruple, but, fortunately for the customer, they did not.
That same year the Navy finally upgraded its antiquated PABX switchboard to a 2,000 line and then a 5,000 line, state-of-the-art digital system. The thirteen years of sales effort on the part of the Telephone Company had finally paid off. More help was supplied for the Navy when the Fairview Peak site was constructed to serve its Electronic Warfare Range.
July of 1983 brought another upgrade in the telephone company's equipment. A new digital, computer-controlled switching system was put in place that involved changing over the central office, operator positions and toll equipment all at one time. It was a successful conversion that took place during the wee hours of the morning. With the new system, custom calling features like call waiting and speed dialing were available to the public for the first time.This expensive system, which is still in use today, greatly improved customer service. It required that Churchill County Telephone obtain a short-term loan from First Interstate Bank for the sum of $2,000,000.
The next year the Company took its first steps into the competitive market by opening the Telemart store, selling and servicing single line telephones. The AT&T divestiture and the effect of Judge Green's decision now placed the responsibility of the telephone on the customer's shoulders, a move that caused many customers great confusion as they were used to having their telephone equipment taken care of from cradle to grave. The cost of payphone calls increased from 10 cents to 25 cents with some payphone user complaints.
In 1985 the local Chamber of Commerce, with the approval of the County Commissioners, encouraged the use of NAS Fallon as an alternative landing site for the space shuttle. A worthwhile idea, but if it had gone through the project would have overtaxed the communication facility at the base and would have been very costly to the Telephone Company.
The next year saw the construction of the Desert Peak site, providing service to residents on the east side of 1-80 and those in the Brady Hot Springs area. On August 18, 1988, the last two-party lines in the County were eliminated when the Stillwater area received upgraded phone service. No complaints from customers about this, certainly not from the business office employees who had to contend with party line inconveniences.
On December 8, 1988, Churchill County Telephone was awarded their RSA license to build and operate a cellular telephone system for Churchill, Pershing and Humboldt Counties. Kenneth Coverston was the first cellular manager and served in that capacity from 1989-1992. A new 911 system and other equipment were installed at the Sheriff's office, replacing an obsolete system with the best small county system in the nation.
Perhaps the biggest event during the 1980's came in 1989, the year in which the Churchill County Telephone System celebrated its 100th birthday. In
80 Jane Pieplow
The Churchill County Telephone Company building as it is seen today. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
commemoration of this milestone, and in addition to other activities, the County Commissioners authorized the company to award monetary grants to various nonprofit entities within Churchill County for the benefit of the entire community. Funds were distributed to the Soroptomists Senior Center, Churchill County Museum Association, Churchill County Parks and Recreation, and the Churchill County Library, among others. In addition to these grants, the telephone company created a video that traced the company's history through the years.
Eight thousand five hundred and seventy-five access lines were now busy serving a growing customer base and $15,000 was spent to install the first and only solar-powered pay phone at Sand Mountain.
On September 16, 1990, the residents of Fallon and Churchill County began receiving cellular service. The next year, technical and economical advances by long distance carriers ended an era that had lasted many decades. In January of that year, Churchill County Telephone no longer provided operator services for AT&T or Nevada Bell's long distance calls. Local and directory assistance inquiries are now routed to Nevada Bell in Reno, Nevada.
In 1995 Churchill County Telephone stepped on to the Information Superhighway by offering its customers toll free access to the Internet, with 600 Internet customers using the service after one and a half years of service.
Fallon's 911 service was once-again upgraded in order to provide better emergency assistance to the community. Now, when a call is made, the dispatcher automatically knows the caller's name, address and telephone number, information that can speed up response time.
The Churchill County Telephone Company 81
As this article is being written, 1997 population figures for the Lahontan Valley continue to surpass Churchill County Telephone's growth expectations. Serious discussion has begun regarding yet another digital office switch. To keep pace with the industry, the company will offer its customers Integrated Services Digital Network (ISDN) along with many new state-of-the-art features and services. Customer service facilities will expand and relocate once again when construction is completed on the former Bank of America building on north Maine. General Manager Ted Hunnewell retired in 1997 and Donald Mello has taken his position. As of January, 1997, the company employed 102 people, provided phone service to 12,573 customers and its plant-in-service totaled $30,248,325.
Keeping up with industry changes into the next century will continue to challenge the Churchill County Telephone Company. Looking back over its 100+ years of service it is clear that the underlying reason for the company's existence has not changed since its inception. Its commitment toward providing good service and products at reasonable rates to its customers will serve the company well into the next century.
The Churchill County Telephone System would like to thank the following people for their help in writing this history. Ken Coverston, Wesley Craig, Ted Hunnewell, Don Mello, Jane Pieplow, and the late Harold Rogers.
Sheep Ranching in Churchill County:
The Old Wether Tells All
Karen McNary
It was a cold, frosty day in the valley, and all the new lambs were gathered around the big, black wether*, listening intently. "In the day of my great grandfather, many times removed," began the elderly wether. Just then one little lamb poked her twin.
"I want to go back to mama and have some milk and a warm snuggle." "Shush," replied her twin, but it was too late, for the old wether had heard. He looked kindly at the lamb.
"Little one," he said, "there will be plenty of time for milk and warm snuggles, but now you must listen. It is important for all, sheep and humans alike, to learn the history of our kind in the Lahontan Valley, because learning
*A wether is a castrated ram.
82
The Old Wether Tells All 83
about the history of sheep in Nevada is basic to an understanding of Nevada history. As I was saying ... long ago in the time of my great grandfather many times removed, over a hundred years ago the way shepherds reckon time, we did not live in pastures with fences like this, and my job as a marker* was not the teaching of lambs. There were many markers in each flock, and each marker had a hundred ewes or rams under his care."
"Wow!" said one of the lambs. "With that many of us there wouldn't be anything in the pasture to eat!"
"As I was saying," replied the old marker, "we didn't live in pastures like this; we traveled spread out over acres. We were so numerous that Nevada almost came to be called the Sheep State."
"It was in 1841 that the first sheep arrived in Nevada, traveling with the Workman-Roland emigrant party heading to California over the Overland Trail from New Mexico. Then in 1852, 9,000 Churros from New Mexico, under the care of 'Uncle Dick' Wootton, traveled across Nevada along the emigrant trail. They came down the Humboldt River, across the Forty Mile desert to the Carson River, and after 107 days on the trail, with only 100 lives lost, they brought 'Uncle Dick' more then $50,000 in Sacramento.
"Just imagine! All that way with only 100 lost. They had six goats to guide them and twenty-two herdsmen to help in case of trouble, but there was only one Dog.
"There were other commercial drives made in 1853 and 1856 but not with the same success, although Kit Carson's drive of 13,000 Churros in 1853 attracted country-wide attention. These large flocks were broken into units of 1,000 to 3,000 individuals and kept on the move, because each sheep would range over a 200 yard front as it grazed.
"Although we can trail comfortably for 50 miles without water," continued the old wether, "most of our kind came across Nevada in the immigrants' wagons. We were considered treasured members of the party and were tethered near our shepherd at night. Most of the immigrant sheep, 'Illinois' sheep as they were called, didn't bunch well, because they had been raised in fenced pastures."
"What's bunching?" asked one of the lambs.
"Bunching is where all the sheep stay together and act as one rather than as individuals," answered the wether. "It is necessary for safety if you are on the range or trailing. If a flock is bunched, the Dogs can keep track of where everyone is and can protect them. But even with the immigrant sheep being tethered, there were often problems.
"By the 1850's the heavy immigrant travel across Nevada had taught the Indians that the funny-looking wooly creatures were edible, but there is only one tale where trouble for the immigrant sheep was caused by a Bighorn sheep. An unnamed Missourian, carrying fourteen ewes and a ram with him on his journey to
*A marker was a black wether or ewe. They were placed at the rate of one marker per hundred sheep to aid in the counting and tracking of flocks.
84 Karen McNary
California, awoke one morning along the Humboldt to find his fine ram dead and the ewes gone. The poor ram had been the victim of a ferocious battle, but a trail led from the battlefield, so the man set out on horseback to follow it. He soon found his ewes in the care and keeping of a handsome Bighorn ram who was happily leading them back to his own territory. The ram was willing to fight to keep his new harem and kept urging the ewes to follow at a faster pace. But the ewes were trail worn, and the man was soon able to catch up with them. It took him a bit to drive off the ram, but he succeeded. The ewes returned to the wagon train and continued their journey to California and a normal life."
"What's a Bighorn?" asked the smallest lamb.
"It's just a big, long-legged, wild sheep with great, big horns. They've lived in Nevada since long before our kind came here," answered another lamb.
The wether paused to clean his spectacles, peered over them at the lambs and continued. "Sheep were on the move across Nevada with the immigrants and in large commercial drives, but the Paiute War in 1859-1860 brought an end to the traffic. However, as mining became an important focus in Nevada, the ranchers followed to feed the miners, and with them came the sheep. The 1860's saw the rise of several sheep outfits; the best known one was Uncle Dan Wheeler's in the Reno area. His flock was one of the mere handful which grazed on their own land. Until the Taylor Grazing Act in 1934 required livestock owners to hold title to a certain amount of land before being allowed to graze animals on public land, most owners/ shepherds were nomadic. Their large flocks were kept on the move. Like the 4,000 sheep belonging to M.E. and A.M. Ward that came through Churchill County on their way to Lander County in the 1860's, many of the flocks only went one way. The Ward flock was sold in Lander county at $4.00 per head.
"The decade of the 1860's was a rewarding and profitable period for Nevada. Mining was booming and the ranches were growing. Most ranchers raised sheep as well as cattle. As a rancher near Gerlach put it earlier in this century, sheep were raised for money and the cattle were raised for romance. It was during this decade that the ranchers started to think in terms of quality wool as well as meat. Cotswold and French Merino rams were imported to upgrade the flocks that were, until then, composed of mostly Churros and American stock.
"By the 1870's most of the prime grazing land in Northern Nevada was occupied and was producing a major portion of the meat supply for California. The advent of the Central Pacific Railroad through the Great Basin had made it easier to move animals, meat and wool from one state to another. This brought more sheep to Nevada where they were thought to winter better than cattle and to prefer sage over bunch grass. By 1872 the spring wool clip in northern Nevada yielded about 100,000 pounds, an amount that grew to over 300,000 pounds by the next year. This was a reasonable amount considering that there were 185,000 sheep listed as living in Nevada in 1874. Although sheep required more supervision, the price remained fairly stable at $4.40 to $5.48 per sheep, with the wool bringing an additional and valuable sum. Because they were well-adapted to extremes of climate, were prolific breeders and were easily shipped by rail, sheep soon outnumbered cattle."
The Old Wether Tells All 85
"Do we need to remember all these dates and numbers?" whined several.
"No" commented the patient, old marker. "You just need to learn the sequence; only those who will be markers need to remember dates and prices.
"With the sheep came the need for herders. Pedro Atube, a Basque rancher in Elko County, started to hire herders from his homeland, paying them in livestock. Many large ranches in Nevada, Idaho, and Oregon got their start this way. But sheepherders in general were expanding their holdings into Idaho, Wyoming and Montana. They were also moving to the forefront in business and community life. Sheepherding had become a respectable occupation requiring more brains than brawn, but it remained a gambler's venue because it was based on the ability to outwit nature and the market. The winter of 1874-1875 proved this with severe weather that killed sheep and cattle on the ranges."
"Didn't they have barns to go into during the storms?" asked one small lamb.
"Didn't the Dogs move them to safety?" queried another.
"No," answered the wether, "they were on the open range. There were no barns, and the Dogs that stayed with their flocks died with them. The cattle world was even harder hit by that winter, and many a cattleman went into the sheep business to cut their losses. Adding sheep to their ranges also helped to control the twice a year trailing by out-of-state sheepmen, because the law prohibited them from grazing land already in use by sheep. With the prime grazing areas settled and Nevada weather unsettled, the more intelligent owners stressed planning for feed to cut the winter losses and advocated selective breeding to improve endurance and to produce better meat and wool. The brand law, which had been implemented in 1873, made it easier to keep track of sheep who were constantly on the move. The brands belonged to ranches and were registered in the county. The bright paint splotches told the human shepherds which ranch and county each of our kind called home.
"One of the major sheepmen of this time was Patrick Flanigan of Washoe Valley. He was among those planning for fencing, growing and storing hay and grain and improving the stock. He was also the first one in Nevada to ship wool directly to Chicago and Kansas City. But he wasn't the only sheepman doing this. Warren Williams and Charles Kaiser had gone into partnership in Stillwater in 1870. Williams trailed 3,000 sheep over the mountains from California to establish the Stillwater ranch and the ranch at Clan Alpine that he managed.
"Although there had been some improvement in the breeds, the flocks still consisted of Churros, scrub Merinos and American (any sheep that had come west from the farming states). This changed with the 1878 Nevada State Fair, sponsored by the Nevada Livestock Association that had formed only one year earlier. For the first time, a purebred Merino of Spanish strain was shown by A. Evans. Sheep were growing in importance.
"But fickle nature had another hand to deal. The end of the decade saw a drought that forced the sheep from the normal summer pastures. The drought was followed by another killer winter. There had been a slow market for sheep that
86 Karen McNary
year, so the ranges were disastrously overgrazed. Lack of winter feed and violent storms reduced the sheep population by as much as 65 percent."
"They still didn't have barns and stored alfalfa*?" asked a horrified little voice.
"No! Our kind lived on the range, and alfalfa wasn't grown in Nevada until the mid 1880's. Now hush and listen.
"However, the wool crop in the spring, and the late spring lambs and the fall sheep sale kept many county governments** alive. The next few years saw little advancement in the form of land and water use laws, and most of the mines were played out. Many residents, especially miners, left Nevada. Ranchers and their sheep stayed. The sheep continued to provide a bridge that carried the ranches over hard times. At the beginning of the 1880's Reno was the center of a growing sheep industry numbering over 50,000 animals. By then sheep outnumbered cattle in the winter feeding, with 40,000 reported near Reno. But the largest operation belonged to Warren Williams in Churchill County.
"The partnership between Warren Williams and Charles Kaiser had prospered until 1878, when they divided the assets and went their separate ways. The property in Stillwater was retained by Kaiser who later went into partnership with John Watt Freeman. Kaiser seems to have faded from the scene and the property became known as the Freeman ranch. The ranch and its resident sheep stayed in the Freeman family until the 1930's, when it was broken up and sold to the Kents, Berneys, Weishaupts and to Felix Bernedo. Although the property changed hands through the years, sheep remained an important part of the ranch's economy. So important were they that in 1907 E.J. Freeman, John's son, returned from an extended trip to California to look after 40,000 pounds of wool being shipped to Boston from the Freeman flocks.
"Meanwhile, Warren Williams took over the Clan Alpine property which he had managed. He and his brother George continued to expand the sheep operation until it was the largest in the state. The wool and mutton from the flock soon joined other Churchill County products such as beef and honey as major exports to California. Williams started purchasing more property until he owned pasturage from Wells to Wadsworth. Among his properties was land near Battle Mountain and near Golconda. The Golconda property became the shearing and dipping*** headquarters.
"Over the course of a year the Williams' sheep traveled 600 miles, with summer grazing in northern Elko County and winter grazing in Churchill County. By March 1, at the end of winter grazing, the sheep were due at the Clan Alpine home base."
"Wow! Six hundred miles! Did they ride in wagons or in trucks like we do?" asked a small black lamb.
* Alfalfa was introduced into Nevada in the 1880's by Fred Dangberg of Genoa. It was an import from
Chile called Chilean Clover.
** The banks had been loaning money out as if it grew on trees rather than sheep. If the banks had gone
under, so would the governments that were closely tied to them.
*** Sheep-dip is a solution of toxic chemicals for treatment of keds, ticks and scabies.
The Old Wether Tells All 87
"Neither, little one. Sheep walked, in bands of 2,400 to 2,800, depending on whether the band consisted of ewes and rams or of yearlings."
"By themselves?"
"No, each band had a herder and Dogs and there was a camp tender for every three bands," answered the old wether.
"As I was saying . . . after reaching Clan Alpine by March 1, the bands headed for Golconda. They reached there by April 1 for shearing and dipping as the shearing crews from California were waiting for the bands to arrive. Using hand shears, each man was able to shear 100 to 150 sheep per day. As each band was sheared it was put through the dipping tanks and headed out to summer pasture. The fleeces only averaged 7 to 9 pounds each, quite a bit having been lost to brambles and sagebrush. After shearing, the fleeces were skirted and graded, and then packed into wool sacks holding at least fifty fleeces and weighing 400 to 500 pounds. The shearing crews worked smoothly and carefully, making sure that the fleece was properly removed and that the sheep were not bloodied; otherwise they were not rehired. This practice insured top quality wool, because only the best crews sheared in Nevada."
"What's dipping?"
"Dipping, little one, is when we have to swim through a tank filled with a noxious liquid to kill off any keds, ticks or scabies germs on us."
"OH! Gross! I don't want to ever have do THAT!"
"You probably won't need to," sighed the old marker. "Most of the diseases and parasites that dipping treated are under control. And before you ask, no, shearing doesn't hurt as long as you behave properly and don't wiggle.
"By May the sheep were well on their way to the summer pasture when lambing started. The bands with lambs were cut to 2,000 individuals with two herders and one camp tender assigned to each of these smaller bands. With an eighty to ninety percent lambing rate it didn't take Warren and George Williams long to build up the sheep operation to the 110,000 sheep they owned in 1910.
"The best year to date for the sheep industry was the landmark year of 1885. It was also the year that the State Agricultural Society was organized by state law. The Society divided the state into five regions with a twelve member control board appointed by the governor to oversee matters. It was the first organization that worked and made progress toward bringing livestock interests together. John G. Taylor, considered one of the giants of the sheep industry, was one of those who had seen a need for this type of organization. Although he only had about 75,000 sheep, he owned 250,000 acres in Humboldt, Pershing and Elko counties. In addition, he leased another half million acres from the Southern Pacific Railroad. He made many lasting contributions to Nevada's livestock industry.
"Good years are often followed by bad, and 1885 was no exception. In 1887, a bad drought moved in and stayed until killer storms arrived in December of 1889. By the time the cold temperatures, heavy snows and rain had arrived, all the cut hay had been consumed and the animals were half starved. There was little shelter and almost no feed, and no way to get what feed there was to the animals
8 8 Karen McNary
when heavy pogonip arrived, freezing cattle where they stood. This was followed in February 1890 by chinook winds which caused heavy flooding leaving cattle and sheep stranded in inundated pastures.
"When spring finally arrived, the average loss among the flocks was about sixty-five percent. Weakened, starving sheep were turned out to fresh pasture. Too much of a good thing after months of deprivation took its toll. Bloat killed many sheep and others toppled over and were unable to rise* due to overeating or from the heavy wool of their coats. The weakened ewes died in great numbers during and after lambing. The condition of the ewes was so poor that few lambs were born, and most of those that were, were too weak to live."
"How horrible!" exclaimed wide-eyed lambs. "What did the shepherds and Dogs do?"
"There wasn't much they could do. John G. Taylor, who lived near Rye Patch, did herd his sheep into tunnels, and then went out and pulled bushes up by their roots to provide some food. He didn't have as many of his flock die.
"Although the last decade of the century had started with a great loss of sheep life, the growing populations almost led Nevada to be called the Sheep State. Most of the ranches were at least experimenting with sheep. The sheep didn't live on the ranches, they were still moved from pasture to pasture, but they had a home base where their winter food was grown and where they could go for lambing. In Churchill County a healthy sheep population was growing, and sheepmen Kaiser and Williams had become the most influential and successful men in the valley. Sheep had now moved into the lead, surpassing cattle as the principal livestock industry in Nevada.
"In 1893 the state was divided into districts with a sheep inspector appointed for each district. He was in charge of the seasonal movements and health of the sheep. Laws were starting to be made restricting the movement of sheep. The State Legislature passed a tax in 1895 to be levied on sheep, with an exemption for ranchers who owned land on which the sheep could be grazed. This was the final blow to out-of-state sheepmen who did not have home bases for their sheep.
"The 20th century brought more changes to the livestock industry. Until the 1920's-1930's the future for sheep was rosy. Sheep maintained their lead as the principal livestock, and continued their seasonal movements. Purebred Lincoln rams arrived from England in 1905 to join Patrick Flanigan's flock. They were crossed with Merino ewes to produce Rambouillet-type lambs. Other sheepmen were importing Cotswold, Shropshires, Hampshires and more purbred Merinos. Wool was an important product as there was already a Nevada Woolgrowers Association ny 1900, headed by Thomas Nelson, who fought to get more public land and water made available to sheep. In 1907 John G. Taylor organized the first Nevada Board of Sheep Commissioners, whose main purpose was to stamp out disease among
*A sheep that goes down often can't figure out how to get up until the shepherd or dog arrives to help.
The Old Wether Tells All 89
sheep. The newspapers in Churchill County carried information on sheep in almost every issue."
"Is that where we live?" asked a sleepy voice.
"Yes, little one, we live in Churchill County."
"I thought we lived in the Lahontan Valley," protested another small lamb.
"We do, the Lahontan Valley is in Churchill County." answered the old
wether. "Now hush and listen so we can finish today's lesson by feeding time.
"The articles mention the thousands of sheep being fed in the county, the 6,000 to 7,000 sheep being sheared by the Freemans, the bounties on wildcat scalps, and about Governer Sparks prohibiting the transportation of sheep from Idaho or Utah because of scabies. There were also articles on sheep breeds, and on making a profit from sheep farming. Each year a State Fair premium list was published listing the various classes for wool and for meat sheep. Sheep were an important part of the county and with the completion of the Truckee-Carson project Churchill County became a great sheep feeding area*. Even before the opening of the project, the Lahontan Valley was a major feeding area for sheep. The winter of 1910-1911 saw fifty carloads of sheep arriving from Elko County to be boarded at $1.00 per sheep for the four month winter season. The county continued to be a major winter feeding area, and in 1930, when a surplus crop of hay was cut, it didn't get out of hand because there were 12,000 sheep and 70 carloads of cattle being boarded for the winter season.
"Until the 1914 death of Warren Williams, he and his brother George continued in the forefront of Nevada's sheepmen. Although their operations were separate, they worked together. It is not known how much property the two owned, but they had the money and power to force people off of any ranch they wanted. The sheep trail to the Jarbidge area was established over their own land. The winter of 1908 was another bad one, and Warren Williams lost 16,000 sheep. He would have lost more, but his brother and a friend, George Baker, were able to herd 3,400 yearlings to safety in Dixie Valley. Williams was not one to waste money so he had the dead sheep skinned. He sold the pelts for $5,000 and purchased 5,000 head of sheep at $1.00 each in California.
"Like other ranchers in Nevada, the Williams brothers used Basque herders. They hired them through a government program where the rancher could hire the herders they needed as long as they paid their fare to America and guaranteed them jobs. Most of the Basques didn't collect wages, they were supplied with their basic needs and could order clothes or other items through the camp tenders. Thus, when they quit to go home or into business they had a $10-15,000 dollar stake."
"Didn't they have Dogs?" asked a plaintive voice.
"Of course they had Dogs! Humans learned a long time ago that we sheep don't understand them and they have to have Dogs to translate for them."
*Unfortunately, the project brought more than water. Russian Thistle seeds (tumbleweed) arrived from Utah in 1913 in a load of hay going to the Lahontan Dam area.
90 Karen McNary
"The shepherds have names, don't the Dogs ever have names? After all they're in charge." queried one of the lambs.
"A good question, little one," answered the old wether. "I have only heard tell of one Dog whose name was known to sheep. His name was 'Old Minister' and he worked with George Williams. 'Old Minister' used to go out with each new herder to train them how to properly herd our kind. He knew the trail, where water was located and where we bedded down at night. He trained many a good shepherd in his day.
"The turn of the century brought changes. Synthetic fibers were becoming more available so sheep raisers were turning from wool breeds to meat breeds. In 1906, the National Forest Service took over some of the duties of the Sheep Inspector. With the Taylor Grazing Act of 1934, the BLM started designating the trails and times of year that sheep were allowed to use them. Open range was scarce and it soon became difficult to move sheep from one ranch to another without trespassing. Taxes and wages went up and the days of the nomadic sheep owner were over. Although in many parts of the country there had been bloody battles between the cattle and sheep interests, there were few in Nevada because so many ranchers owned both sheep and cattle. Most of the fights were between those working cattle and those herding sheep. Although better ways of handling sheep were being discovered, the weather and the government were finding new ways of discouraging even the most optimistic."
"I hear a truck!"
"I hear the Dog!"
"So do I! He's bringing the shepherd with hay and grain for breakfast."
"All right, little ones, we will quit for now. Be back here tomorrow morning
just after daybreak to learn about Carl Dodge's big feedlot and The Rafter 7 Ranch's prize winning fleeces. Now hurry back to your mothers."
The Old Wether Tells All 91
Bibliography
Churchill County Eagle. 1904, 1907, 1914, 1915.
"Churchill County Growing Feedlot Industry." Churchill County Eagle-Standard. Supplement.
February 3, 1971.
Dodge, Carl. Interview. April 4, 1997.
Georgetta, Clel. "Sheep in Nevada." Nevada The Silver State, Vol. 1, Carson City, NV: Western
States Historical Publishers, Inc., 1970, Pgs. 21-32.
Kent, Hammie. Interview. March 31, 1997.
Navajo-Churro Sheep. Flyer on the Navajo Sheep Project, Utah State University.
Sawyer, Bryd Wall. Nevada Nomads. San Jose, CA: Harlan-Young Press, 1971.
Sherman, Marie. Interview. April 14, 1997.
Thompson, David. Nevada - A History of Changes. Reno, NV: The Grace Dangberg Foundation,
Dangberg Historical Series. 1989.
Townley, John M. Turn this Water into Gold Reno, NV: Nevada Historical Society, 1977.
Townley, John M. Alfalfa Country. Reno, NV: Agricultural Experimental Station, University of
Nevada.
92 Karen McNary
Churro Sheep
The first Churro sheep in this
country arrived in 1540 with Coronado.
They stayed behind with the priests and
with the Hispanic settlers, who relied on
them for food and fiber. The handspun
wool from the Churros gave rise to the
legendary Navajo weaving tradition. The
Navajo-Churro sheep of today is a descen-
dant of Coronado's Churros, and is on the
list of rare livestock breeds in this country.
The Churro is a small (100-160
pounds) delicate looking sheep with long,
clean legs, a narrow body and an upstand-
ing carriage. Both polled and horned
animals are common with some rams having four horns. Allthough small, they are very hardy with a high lambing average and high survival rates. They have the ability to thrive on marginal feed resources and are resistant to some parasites and diseases. A breed well suited to semi-desert and mountainous country, the Churro's fleece has a fine-fibered inner coat and a long, coarse, protective outer coat. Averaging 5-7 pounds with little grease, the wool comes in all color solid gradations from white to black, or, if the sheep is spotted, colors are mixed.
In 1978, under the direction of Dr. Lyle McNeal, the Navajo Sheep Project started at Utah State University in an effort to revitalize the Churro sheep. Their mission was to preserve and breed back this endangered historic breed, to increase the value of the textiles woven by Navajo and Hispanic women, and to evaluate and document the unique traits of the Churro breed. In addition, it was established to provide education and technical assistance in propagating and utilizing the Churro and its fleece. A final purpose of the NSP is "to promote inter-cultural communication, understanding and cooperation within the agricultural sector." This project flourished at Utah State University until 1995. Today, the project is searching for new quarters in which to continue its work.
PIONEER PORTRAITS
Dixie Land
Michon Mackedon
Dixie Valley, Nevada, lies in northeastern Churchill County. To get there, the traveler can follow Highway 50 on its "loneliest" course east from Fallon, Nevada, for about forty miles to where the Dixie Valley road cuts north from the highway. From that point, the road lies like a thin straight ribbon along the valley floor for sixty or so miles. It then forms three fingers, each leading generally in a northerly direction to Pleasant Valley outside of Lovelock, Jersey Valley next to Battle Mountain, or Buffalo Valley south of Winnemucca. Part of Dixie Valley also lies to the south of Highway 50, but most of the settlement, with the exception of Frenchman's Station, a roadside stop on the south shoulder of the highway, has been down the valley to the north.
As Nevada valleys go, Dixie is long and low; it measures over 100 miles from north to south and its elevation is the lowest in Churchill County dipping in places to about 3,350 feet and giving it a growing season slightly longer than Fallon's. On a map, it looks as if some god has scooped up a giant serrated spoonful of land, leaving a jagged shallow basin rimmed by mountains on three sides and narrowing to a flat spoon handle on the fourth. The mountains on the west are the Stillwater Range, separating Dixie Valley from the Lahontan Valley; the valley is bounded on the east by the Clan Alpine Mountains and to the south by Pirouette Mountain. The handle of the spoon is the narrow opening on the north leading to valleys in Pershing, Lander and Humboldt Counties. Numerous small canyons cut down from the mountains at fairly regular intervals, including IXL Canyon, Horse Canyon, Bernice Canyon, Cottonwood Canyon, and White Rock Canyon in the Stillwaters; Horse Creek Canyon, Sagehen Canyon, Paiute Canyon and Dummy Canyon in the Clan Alpines.
The geology of the valley indicates its restless past. A Pleistocene Lake (Lake Dixie) once filled the basin, and, now, it is thought to be one of the largest underground reservoirs in the state. Fossils found around the rim of the now dusty basin reveal that it once supported a whole aquatic world; fish, trilobites and ammonites forever float in the silent shale. The valley floor is suited for farming as water can be pumped to the surface from underground artesian springs. The temperature of the water runs from cool to quite warm. Tiny fish reportedly live in the
93
94 Michon Mackedon
In 1867-1868, famous Civil War photographer Timothy O'Sullivan was hired by the federal government to photograph the landscape of the 40th Parallel, from Virginia City, Nevada, to Denver, Colorado. He captured this image of a tent at Sou Hot Springs at the north end of Dixie Valley in 1867. (National Archives Photograph.)
underground springs and have shown up in those domestic wells where the water temperature hovers around 65 degrees. Hot springs, some of them very hot, bubble up along the alluvial fan on the west side, indicating subterranean thermal activity. The mountain ridges around the valley clearly display a violent past; dramatic slips and displacements are the results of earthquakes occurring as recently as 1954. Another distinctive feature of the area is Job's Peak, at 8,790 feet the highest point in the Stillwater Range. It rises to the west of the valley, forming a natural point for marking the seasonal course of the setting sun. Perhaps this solar conjunction is why Northern Paiutes know Job's Peak as their mythological center of creation.
The Dixie Valley road is intersected at uneven intervals by thin, mostly unpaved roads, more like trails, which once led to a scattering of ranches, farms, wells, springs and mines. In the past, those entering the valley carved the trails in pursuit of wealth or for land on which to raise a family or, perhaps they were merely seeking that precious commodity called privacy; what they found were expansive and mostly unoccupied desert lands, uncommonly blue skies, and a promise of resources in the form of the artesian waters under the valley floor and the reputedly rich ores in the foothills. From that point of view, the story of settlement in Dixie Valley is not unlike the stories of settlement of nearby Nevada places like Eastgate or Cherry Creek or Buena Vista Valley, which hosted successive waves of hopeful ranchers, farmers, miners, and prospectors.
But Dixie's story can be distinguished from the histories of neighboring valleys in several ways. Its settlement is unusually colorful in that folks have pur-
Dixie Land 95
sued so many kinds of dreams there. Its history, in other words, has edges, and those who dreamed in Dixie seem to have done so with unusual imagination. It is true that its story is filled with gold and silver miners and with cattle grazing and alfalfa growing, the common Nevada themes, but Dixie has also produced rice and hothouse tomatoes, geothermal energy and government mules, potash, rubber and honey. In addition, its story has been punctuated with highly dramatic national events. In 1954 it became the focus of world-wide attention when a major earthquake rocked it almost into pieces, opening fissures in the ground and thrusting the earth's crust into new shapes and patterns. Then, in 1985, the valley again became the focus of wide-spread attention when the United States Navy purchased its heartland for a $100 million expansion of the Fallon Naval Air Station. The friendly condemnation of the lands in Dixie Valley reads like a modern morality play, with the valley residents pitted against a national agenda. When the curtain fell, a way of life ended for the families who had made the valley their home, some for several generations.
Records of Dixie Valley date back to 1861, when the Dixie Marsh District was organized to mine potash, borax and salt and the first town of Dixie was formed. Not much is known about the mining operators, but it's fairly safe to surmise from their naming of the region that they were Confederate sympathizers. Before then, federal surveyors had marked the valley "Osobb."' The Dixie Marsh District was short-lived, but by 1864 the valley and its environs had attracted more miners, this time after gold and silver. In February of that year, Nevada Governor Nye located the county seat of Churchill County at La Plata, a silver boom town overlooking Dixie Valley on the slopes of the Stillwater Range not far from Job's Peak. The strike played out quickly, though, and the county seat was moved to Stillwater in 1868, leaving La Plata as the first of many abandoned towns and mills dotting the mountain slopes around Dixie Valley.
In the early twentieth century, mining in the Stillwater and Clan Alpine Ranges followed the boom/bust pattern of gold and silver strikes throughout the state. Between 1905 and 1910, many of the canyons around Dixie Valley were alive with prospectors, strikes, tent cities, and briefly-lived hope. In 1907 and 1908, the mining towns of Wonder, Hercules, Silver Hill and Victor rose overnight from the Clan Alpine foothills. In the valley itself, in early 1907, a second townsite named Dixie was established by two civil engineers from Wonder named Greer and Ray. The degree of optimism and energy prevailing in these early camps can be surmised by looking at the Dixie townsite plat map filed by the two engineers. They laid out 600 lots lining six streets (two of them were named Greer Street and Ray Street). The lots were offered for $6,000 each. By June 1907, Dixie consisted of five saloons, two restaurants, two general stores, a hotel, an assay office, a bakery, and 200 residents. However, by the end of the summer, Dixie could be characterized as another abandoned dream, just a name on a townsite map.2
96 Michon Mackedon
During World War I, discovery of potash deposits created considerable new interest in Dixie Valley. The Fallon newspapers of 1918 report the step by step progress of a group of Fallon investors as they worked to finance and develop a potash mining operation. Led by Mr. Merle Woodson, an "agricultural chemist," the investors researched the potash market and made periodic reports to the newspapers about their newly-formed Nevada Potash Company, hastily organized when the black brine beneath the surface of the dry Dixie basin showed high concentrations of the mineral. The March 13, 1918 Churchill County Standard noted that "potash fever is catching." The investors visited Searles Lake, California, a profitable potash mine situated in a dry basin similar to that of Dixie Valley, to "investigate the Solvoy process by which fortunes are being taken from the black muck overlaying rock salt."3 Because of the war, potash was especially scarce and especially valuable -- scarce because Germany, the enemy, was its main producer, and valuable because of its use in munitions and as a fertilizer. Of interest is the effort made by the owners of the Nevada Potash Company to convince potential investors of the patriotic correctness of their investments. A newspaper article in the June 19, 1918 Standard quotes E.N. Richardson, secretary of the Nevada Potash Company as saying, "Of course, we expect to make money ... and surely there is something more to this ... Dixie Valley Potash lake than making money .... It means freedom from Germany's world monopoly of potash and this is a thing which should interest every man, woman, and child in these United States, and we believe we are doing a work that should be encouraged by all." Unfortunately for Mr. Richardson and the Nevada Potash Company, the armistice undercut the patriotic sales pitches, and the bottom dropped out of the potash market.
Meanwhile, though, the story of settlement in the valley was really just beginning. By the end of the second decade of the 20th century, the lure of artesian wells and irrigable land for grazing livestock and growing crops began to draw a different breed of adventurer, some who remained to carve out a living from the land and make permanent homes in the valley. The first who came to stay were the Spencers, Willoughby, Libby and her son, Rubert. The year was 1914 and they had "roamed all over the west" before settling on Dixie Valley. Rubert's daughter, Tharon Spencer Turley, said in an oral history prepared for the Churchill County Museum that her grandfather Willoughby Spencer was a wagonmaster and had always made a good living with his horses. After settling in Dixie, they grazed sheep and cattle, but Tharon recalls most fondly the time she spent helping her grandfather capture wild mustangs for later sale. " I was wild about horses and my granddad was a mustanger. They would bring horses in almost everyday and I would always be over there and I'd run out to help my grandmother turn them in to where the corral was. Grandmother had an old Shepherd dog and we would run over -- they had a round corral, that's what they called a stockade corral -- and we had a trail beat around there where we'd run
Dixie Land 97
around and peek in to see what they'd brought."4 Willoughby Spencer bred the mustang mares to Mammoth Jacks, a large breed of burro. He sold the resulting mules to the Army. Tharon says that after World War I broke out, he "shipped mules by the carload to Uncle Sam."'
Shortly after the Spencers had settled in Dixie Valley in 1914, others came to see what might be grown in the natural artesian waters. The valley soon took on the characteristics of a community, with marriages and births and its own post office, school, and polling booth. Among the newcomers, John Mackedon homesteaded in the valley in 1917; the newspaper reported his early experiments at growing rice.6 Mackedon's cousin, Loraine Tavernia, came from Milwaukee to join in the homesteading effort and soon met young Rubert Spencer. On February 22, 1918, "at the home of Judge DeArmond, in Stillwater, a very pretty wedding took place ... and it seems two homesteads will be combined." At about the same time, a valley widower, Mr. Boyer, who had established a ranch in the northern part of the valley, met the recently-widowed mother of six, Mrs. Brown, and they were joined in matrimony. Another family of settlers, that of J.H. Barkley, contributed the first birth to the community. Barkley had come to Nevada in hopes of establishing a socialist colony, and had been associated with the New Harmony Socialist community east of Fallon. The Churchill County Eagle of August 11, 1917 reports that "J.H. Barkley was down from Fairview yesterday and states he has built a three room cottage on his Dixie Valley land and has about half of the place fenced. A son was born to Mr. and Mrs. Barkley on the 3rd, the first white child born in Dixie Valley."
By 1918, Dixie was drawing enough settlers that in March a post office was established to serve the community, now officially called Dixie Valley. The first postmistress was Julia Tavernia, the sister of Loraine, who soon married another Dixie Valley resident, James Reid. By 1921, 27 families had settled in the valley.' In that same year a school, built to accommodate the offspring of the new residents, had an enrollment of 17 pupils under the tutelage of Mrs. Clyde Stark.
Most of the early homesteaders did not stay for long, but those who did settled in for a spell. Voting records between 1920 and 1970 show fairly steady figures of between 20 and 30 voters during those years, and many of the same family names appear over and over. In the twenties, the names included Spencer, Tavernia, Barkley, Poole, Arrizabalaga, Tyrrel; later records add to the lists, among others, the family names Curtis, Smith, Ellis, Stark, Johnson, Knittle, Derrick, Turley and Dempsey. Tharon Turley says in her oral history that valley life was not for everyone: "People came and then they left and I often thought that not very many women liked to stay out like that."$ For certain, those with fear of solitude or hard work and those in poor health would have found the Dixie life especially difficult. For many years, the mail was delivered only twice a week, and the nearest doctor or dentist was always at least an hour away in Fallon. Grocery shopping and meal planning were major undertakings. And, even when the best of
98 Michon Mackedon
During the 1918 school year, these students were enrolled at the Dixie Valley School. Back row, l-r: Lewellyn Barkley (Gross), Lee Motie Barkley (Samuelson), and Minnie Barkley. Front row, l-r: Marcelle Barkley (Herz), Fielding Barkley, IC. Barkley, Marguerite Barkley (Keown), and James Gibbons Barkley. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
plans were laid, Mother Nature might plan otherwise. For example, rain in Dixie usually takes the form of a cloudburst, and cloudbursts in Dixie usually take out roads and lines. Windstorms in Dixie, too, tend toward the dramatic, obliterating vision beyond a few feet. Add that to the fact that the delicate balance of nature frequently ran amuck. In the early years the newspapers are full of reports of rabbits and coyotes in huge numbers. In 1916, Willoughby Spencer lost his spring planting to the rabbits, as did John Mackedon.9 The 1918 papers reported many sightings of rabid coyotes in Dixie including a mention of the fact that Mrs. Libby Spencer was trailed by one, foaming at the mouth, near her home. Owls swooped down at night to pluck guinea fowl from Loraine Spencer's farm yard. And, the valley has always had its share of rattlesnakes.1°
For those who did stay, though, Dixie offered land to roam for both man and beast, a big sky overhead, and plentiful water underfoot. Its sheer scope and diversity drew many different types, from socialist reformers to hermits, large families to bachelors, cowboys to school teachers. One former resident of Dixie remembers an elderly bachelor who lived alone in a tiny cabin in IXL Canyon in the Stillwater Range. He apparently owned only the clothes on his back and would occasionaly walk ten or so miles to the nearest neighbor for conversation and a hot meal. His brother, the story goes, was one of the wealthiest men in Cali-
Dixie Land 99
fornia, the president of the California Bank. Tharon Turley remembers another hermit named Schwartz, who was found dead in his cabin by the mail carrier. "He was a spiritualist. When he first came to the valley he camped in a tent in my grandparents' yard. They would hear him talking to the spirits at night." So, the valley became a collection of colorful souls who shared an appreciation of freedom and adventure and self-made entertainment.
In an article written for the June 24, 1987, Lahontan Valley News/Fallon Eagle Standard, Dixie J. Hultenschmidt, named for Dixie Valley, reminisced about the joys of growing up there: "Ah, yes! That was the life! We didn't know what peer pressure or stress was .... Every parent knew where their children were at 10 p.m., and most of the time at 7:30 p.m.! ....When there was a party, the 'old' folks sat around and played music on the guitars, banjos, harmonicas and mandolins, while the teenage set and younger children enjoyed square dancing." Tharon Turley adds that every other Saturday night in the 1960's, the valley would gather for a pot luck dinner and dancing. Tharon's husband Howard played the guitar, as did his half brother Leo Hill. Harry Forbush drove his square dance records from Fallon and would play the Virginia Reel faster and faster as the evening became more lively.'2
In addition to freedom and wholesome pleasures, a good living might be had there as well. Tharon Spencer Turley, her parents, Rubert and Loraine Spencer, her husband Howard and their children found all they needed in their own backyards. Tharon remembers that they were basically self-sufficient. "My mother raised chickens ... Of course, we had milk cows and we had butter and she had a beautiful garden and fruit trees and we had trout in the stream. Just marvelous. I never missed town one bit."'' She also recalled that her grandmother and her grandmother's niece, Kitty (later Mrs. George Bonner) liked to paint, so
Some of the Barkley kids are all smiles in 1917 as water from a new well bubbles up from beneath Dixie Valley. From left to right: James, Fielding, Lee Motie and Fenn Barkley, two unidentified children and Jim Reed. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
100 Michon Mackedon
they earned money for painting supplies by trapping bobcats and coyotes. "They did their own trapping and their own skinning."14 And her grandfather turned his love of mustangs into a profitable business, especially during the first world war. Cattle and sheep almost always did well on the ranches and ranges in and around Dixie Valley. A large cattle and sheep spread known as the Boyer Ranch operated from early in the twentieth century until the Navy buyout, at times supporting up to 3,000 head of cattle. Many other interesting products augmented the incomes and increased the range of endeavors in Dixie. The Ellis family, in addition to growing hay and running registered Hereford cattle, kept bees and sold sagebrush honey. During winters, Leon Ellis trapped lynxcats, mountain lions, badger and coyotes. The Boyer ranch grew fruits and black walnuts. In the seventies, hot house tomatoes were grown in Dixie and sold throughout the West. And over the years, mines of one kind or other made money for some and broke the bank for others -- gold, silver, lead, copper, potash, antimony. A geothermal plant still produces energy from the hot underground steam on the north side of the valley. There is also reportedly a rare rubber-producing plant indigenous to Dixie. Quite a bit of excitement was generated during World War II when Parthenium hysterophorus was found there, as it is the only plant besides the Brazilian rubber tree from which rubber can be extracted and it only grows in a few places on earth -- Mexico, parts of the Southwestern United States, and Dixie Valley. The development of synthetic rubber halted Dixie's potential rubber boom, as thirty years earlier, the end of the war had cooled "potash fever."
The old Dixie Valley School just before 1961. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
Dixie Land 101
Whatever they were doing, enough folks remained in Dixie over the years that the old schoolhouse in the valley served two generations of children. Ruth Erb, who later lived and taught school in Fallon, remembered her first teaching job in Dixie Valley in 1927, when she was 18 years old. "Dixie was a lonely place for the few children living there. The twelve children, ranging in ages from 1 to 16, in grades 1 through 8, were glad to go to school to have something to do .... they wanted to stay to help with my janitor work. They wound up the portable phonograph and danced about the room while the dust oozed out of the cracks in the floor with each step." Erb especially remembered their enthusiasm and tough spirit. She recalled one student who had a terrible toothache on the date of an important exam. "She found that by holding cold water in her mouth it eased the pain for a few minutes. She took all of those tests holding the cold water in her mouth. As the water warmed she would go to the front door, spit it out and get some more cool water ... She passed all the tests with the same quiet determination with which she faced all her problems." The children she described were inheritors of the spirits which had led their parents to the valley in the first place, then kept them there despite the dust, the isolation, the many inconveniences. Later, Mrs. Lily Stark taught Tharon Spencer, who called her "the best teacher in the county." The original school, built in 1918, was replaced about 1961 by a building which had once served Fallon students, first in the Beach District and then at West End School.
Over the years, much of the community life was centered around the schoolhouse. It served as a place for meetings, funerals, parties, and as a polling booth in election years. Folks in Dixie took their voting seriously, and with good reason, for in 1946, they swung a county primary. In that particular election, the Democratic nomination for the Churchill County Commission was a hot race between Fred Kim and Wen Beeghly. On election day, the Dixie ballots were placed in a canister and flown by Gene York to the old Dixie schoolhouse, where they were dropped from the plane to the schoolyard. After Dixie Precinct had voted, the ballots were rushed to Fallon, where the vote was too close to call. The Dixie votes carried the day for Wen Beeghly who then lost the general election to Republican Archie McIntosh.16
In 1965, the Dixie Valley School was closed by the Churchill County School District, after which children were bused to Fallon, a round trip of 160 miles. In fact, the Dixie-Fallon school bus route earned the dubious distinction of being the longest school bus route in the country.
Dixie's real public fame, though, was achieved through two highly publicized and dramatic events. The first was a very strong earthquake which jarred the valley late at night on December 16, 1954. The quake, which topped 7.0 on the Richter Scale, was felt from Salt Lake City to San Francisco, Oregon to San Diego, and left geologists and seismologists with enough data to occupy them for years to come. One of strangest effects of the quake was a noticeable change in
102 Michon Mackedon
water levels at various wells and springs throughout the valley. The December 22, 1954, the Fallon Standard reported that "Dry wells which had been dry for years began gushing good sweet water," whereas flowing wells dried instantly. At Willow Springs, on the west side of the valley, according to the same report, there was a drop (fault slip) in the earth of 15 feet, and a large stream of water began flowing beneath a cabin and onto the road. The slips and surface faults were astounding enough to attract visitors from miles around. At one point, a roadway sank five feet for a distance of thirty five feet. Cars streamed to the valley to view an especially large fault along the base of the Stillwater Range.
In fact, the earthquake damage was so visually spectacular that Vincent Gianela of the University of Nevada geology department told the Fallon Standard that the area "should become a tourist attraction." He continued, "People all over the country will know about this spectacular Nevada earthquake.""
Well, the valley never really became the tourist stop that Dr. Gianela predicted; in fact, the fame brought by the earthquake was relatively short-lived, and those who had made the valley home continued about the business of living their daily lives far from the noise and crowds of more populated areas. But a new and persistent reminder of the presence of the outside world came in the form of increased jet overflights and sonic booms as the Naval Air Station in Fallon expanded its air space further into the corridor above the valley floor -- too close to the valley floor, in fact, to suit the residents. `We've been buzzed off our tractors and we've been buzzed off the paved highway," claimed the people of Dixie Valley to a Lahontan Valley News reporter in 1983. In the same interview, one of
A Dixie Valley resident watches with wonder as water pours from a new spring that was created as a result of the 1954 earthquake. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
Dixie Land 103
the residents claimed that "the first phone call out of here when the phone lines went in twelve years ago was to the Navy, asking them to stop buzzing us." 8
in 1985, the United States Navy undertook a series of buyouts of the private property in the valley as part of their goal to expand a new Supersonic Operations Area. The Navy's actions emotionally tore the valley asunder. Dixie landowners vented frustration and sadness. The buyout was termed "friendly condemnation," but at times, the feelings of the landowners toward the Navy were anything but friendly. Citing the fact that they had suffered for years from sonic booms and low-flying aircraft, they claimed that their properties were receiving low market values from the Navy because the Navy themselves had, by their overflights and bombings, reduced the Valley's appeal and market value. Many of them also felt that they were being forced to accept a buyout for much more than a piece of property. In a larger sense, the situation perhaps is one example of what many in this country see as an increasingly common modern dilemma in which "progress" is pitted against "traditional ways of life." The residents of Dixie had staked their claim to a spare and private rural existence, asking little from the land or from the government that served them. Now, they found themselves literally in the way of national defense and technological progress. In this case, as in so many others, progress won. By late 1986, the last of the roughly 100 parcels of privately owned land were in the process of assessment for their fair market values.
In the old Western movies, John Wayne would have ridden into Dixie and saved the day. Then, he would have scooped the prettiest lass up onto his horse and ridden off toward Job's Peak. But that didn't happen. Times had changed and this time the winner was Tom Cruise in a training jet. One by one, the residents handed their deeds over to the Navy.
Nevertheless, they went out in Dixie style. As the last of the valley's families shut the doors to their homes, the funeral service began at the old schoolhouse. Dixie J. Hultenschmidt described the ceremony. A horse-drawn buggy carrying a small coffin left the schoolhouse and traveled the seven miles to the Dixie Valley cemetery, where the valley was laid to rest. "Each resident placed momentoes of the beloved Valley into the coffin, each speaking their final peace over the death of Dixie Valley ... remembering the trials, tribulations and the many joys experienced there."i9
Perhaps the best tribute to the Valley comes from the person who lived there the longest. In giving her oral history to the Churchill County Museum, Tharon Turley was asked about her life in Dixie Valley, "Looking back in your life, is there anything you would have liked to do that you hadn't done?" "No," she answered. "I would just wish that what I had been doing I could have kept doing. No, we both, my husband and I, were well satisfied there."2°
104 Michon Mackedon
NOTES
1. Helen S. Carlson, Nevada Place Names (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1974), p. 99.
2. "Dixie Townsite," Plat Map filed with the Churchill County Commissioners, Churchill County Museum and Archives.
3. Churchill County Standard, June 19, 1918, p.1.
4. "An Interview with Tharon Spencer Turley, December 21, 1991," Churchill County Museum & Archives Oral History Project, p. 9.
5. Ibid., p. 12.
6. Churchill County Eagle, May 21, 1921.
7. Ibid.
8. "An Interview...," p. 40.
9. "In From Dixie Valley." Churchill County Eagle, July 1, 1916.
10. "From Dixie Valley." Churchill County Eagle, Febuary 12, 1916.
11. "An Interview...," p. 5.
12. Telephone Interview with Tharon Turley, June 23, 1997.
13. "An Interview...," p. 15.
14. "An Interview...," p. 17.
15. Ruth Erb, "Teaching At Dixie Valley." Inside Nevada Schools: A Challenge for the Future. (Carson City: Nevada State Retired Teachers Association, 1976), p. 22.
16. Fallon Eagle, September 7, 1946.
17. Fallon Standard, December 29, 1954.
18. F.J. Evans, "Dixie Valley Residents Vs. Navy: Now It's a Question of Tradeoffs," Lahontan Valley News, March 18, 1983.
19. Dixie J. Hultenschmidt, "The story of Dixie Valley," Lahontan Valley News/Fallon Eagle Standard, June 24 and June 26, 1987.
20. "An Interview...," p. 41.
Memories of Dixie
Denise Mondhink
(Reprinted from Circumference, a publication of Western Nevada Community College.)
Between the Stillwater and Clan Alpine Mountain Ranges, just east of Fallon, lies Dixie Valley, a place where 95% of my childhood memories are rooted.
In the middle of the desert loom the huge weeping willow trees that shade a small portion of the property that stretches one hundred and sixty acres. Turning off the main road, the driveway, sometimes flooded by one of the property's four artesian wells, traveled a mile and a half to the house. We knew we had reached the house when one of us had to get out and open the big gate that kept the range cows out of the yard. At that point, all of us kids would jump out and run to the house, not being able to stand one more moment in the truck. My sisters and I would run to the barn or the hand-dug pool. This small piece of heaven will always be known as grandma's house [Mr. and Mrs. Chester Knittle, Sr.].
The house was an old Navy house Grandpa had moved out to the property, but the remodeling was never finished. It had three bedrooms and Grandpa's office, which had a hide-a-bed. If there wasn't a bed left to sleep in, the floor served the same purpose. In the winter, my cousins, sisters, and I would always sleep on the floor in front of the huge rock fireplace that Grandpa had built. I'll never forget the little door beside the fireplace, where the firewood would be carried in from outside. When we were little, we thought the door was put there for us, since it was just right size for someone four feet tall. There was only one bathroom in the house (the second was never finished, and later served as the pantry.) Imagine, more than a house full of people with only one bathroom! If worse came to worse, you could always use the bathroom in the musty, crowded shop, or the outhouse by the milking shed.
On all sides of the house, except for the eastern side where the pool was located, stretched a lawn. Edging the lawn were flower beds, full of beautiful flowers and bushes. Every few feet a pipe stuck out of the ground about six inches. When the cap was removed from the top of the pipe artesian well water sprung up, and overflowed, making for a very efficient irrigation system. We'd play for hours until it was time to put the caps back on the pipes. Surrounding the lawn and the flower beds were the weeping willow trees, sliver maple, and
105
106 Denise Mondhink
an apricot tree in the back of the house by the gate. No one ever broke any bones from falling out of the trees that I can remember.
On the southern side of the lawn sat the newest of the four artesian wells. When flowing, the water was directed by a ditch northeast to the fields behind the barnyard. The barnyard consisted of the milking shed, chicken house, saddle shed, a round corral, and a duck and pigeon pen.
To the west of the barnyard, behind the house, was a pasture; running beside it was a strawberry, raspberry, and blackberry patch. Like Twain describes in "Uncle John's Farm": The strawberries were fragrant and fine, and in the season we were generally there in the crisp freshness of the early morning . . . The raspberries were always my favorite, sometimes growing to be an inch long. We'd sneak around picking handfuls of the fruits, hoping Grandma wouldn't catch us, or one of the other children wouldn't tell; sometimes we'd give half of the prize as part of the bribe.
The mud-dug pool I mentioned earlier was alongside the berry patch. The oldest of the artesian wells fed it and also supplied water to the house. The water, except for on very hot days, was usually very cold, be we didn't care. Grandpa would patch old tractor tire inner tubes for us, and we'd all play rock the boat, almost drowning in the process.
One of our favorite activities was playing in the playhouse beside the pool. It was made of wooden boxes, with the inside of the boxes facing inward, that made for perfect shelves. One week we would pretend it was a grocery store, emptying Grandma's garbage cans to fill our shelves with merchandise. The next it was a fancy restaurant, complete with tables and table cloths, serving mud, rock, and stick casserole as the main course. Every year we'd think of something different, until one year Grandma got a flock of turkeys, and our restaurant was turned into a turkey house. Not long after that it blew down, and Grandpa finished tearing it down and hauled it away. We children cleaned the lawn mower and garden tools out of a portable storage shed and moved our playhouse to a new location. But the portable storage shed was only half the size of the old one and wasn't by the pool.
One year, everything changed. The same government who had given the land to the people to homestead, now wanted it back. The United States Navy wanted to fly its jets over the valley. Navy officials told the people to either sell their land, or suffer the endless rumbling and shaking caused by jets flying low overhead. Some sold out right away, feeling the Navy had made them a fair offer. Other homesteaders, including my grandparents, felt the offers for their land were too low for something they had put so much time and hard work into. It has been said that you can't win against the government and the people of Dixie Valley were forced to take the Navy's offers for their land.
Before my grandparents were forced to sell, I remember going to their house. Stopping to open the gate, we noticed a sign that had been nailed to the post, saying this property belonged to the United States Government. I remember saying, "No it doesn't, this Grandma and Grandpa's property!"
Memories of Dixie 107
For the next year my grandparents packed up everything they wanted off the property and moved. That was over five years ago, and since then I've only been to Dixie Valley a couple of times. Most of the trees are still alive, and all four of the wells are running, flooding the property and watering the fields where thick grass is growing, which makes it a range wanted by ranchers.
It's hard for me and my family to see what was once an oasis in the desert become run down. The gate that once kept the range cows out of the yard no longer helps, since the ranchers have cut the fences. People have broken the windows in the house and shot the walls full of holes.
I try not to think of how it is now; I just remember all the good times we had, and how much I loved the place.
This 1941 photograph is believed to be that of the Byers Ranch, located at the upper end ofDixie Valley. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
NATIVE AMERICAN PERSPECTIVE
Spirit Cave Man Revisited
Tim Findley
It was somebody's relative that was entombed in a cave above the drying vestige of an inland sea east of what we know as Fallon roughly 9,415 years ago.
Somebody's relative, wrapped carefully in funeral robes woven into a shroud that would carry him into eternity.
Somebody's relative. But whose?
Was it an ancestor of the Paiute or the Shoshone people, who European explorers would "discover" in the rocky desert nearly 10 millinea later? Or was it someone else, someone whose heirs and descendants later vanished from the volcanic slopes and low-lying swamps in the still early remnants of Pleistocene Lake Lahontan?
Was there perhaps even a trace of truth in the Paiutes' own legends about a race of light-skinned, red-haired giants who once imposed their will over this region of what is now Churchill County, Nevada?
The United States government is apparently uncertain whether anyone should be allowed to know for certain. The Spirit Cave Man, found in 1940, still crumpled in its near fetal burial posture, lies today in an atmospherically-controlled vault at the Nevada State Museum while a legal and political battle rages quietly over the science that could determine whose relative it was that was placed in that arid cave more than 5,000 years before Egyptians were known to first begin placing their dead in tombs for a journey into the after-world.
Amy Dansie, an anthropologist in the state museum at Carson City, sees the issue as a fundamental question about mankind's past. "Can we know," she says. "CAN we know?"
It is, however, an ever more timely question of whether we MAY be allowed to know by federal authorities who are blocking the use of latest scientific methods, including DNA testing, to research the origins of not only Spirit Cave Man, but at least one other set of remains found recently at Kennewick, Washington, and, like the Nevada mummy, thought from preliminary examination to be "non-Indian," or Caucasian, in its skeletal features.
If established by further scientific testing, that would alter some of the most basic assumptions about human evolution in North America and even pose
108
Spirit Cave Man Revisited 109
contemporary complications on aboriginal claims to land and rights throughout the United States.
There is more at stake than just the matter of ancestors and descendants of Spirit Cave and Kennewick men. Political and social implications about their origins are serious enough to set the stage for a conflict between the Nevada State legislature and authorities from the U.S. Department of Interior over whether the most reputable scientists in the United States, including several from the prestigious Smithsonian Institute, will be allowed to examine the remains further or whether they will be sealed away indefinitely as presumed, and federally-protected, Native American artifacts.
In Washington state, the conflict is similar, involving teams of lawyers representing scientists who are challenging federal control over what became perhaps the most controversial artifact of human anthropology in America after it was found in the summer of 1996 along the banks of the Columbia River near the Washington-Oregon border.
An anthropologist called to examine the bones found by two college students involved in a boat race determined almost immediately that the nearly intact skeleton was exceptionally old, and, from the cranial feature, probably Caucasian. In the pelvis bone, the anthropologist found a stone spear-tip still embedded where it had caused a crippling, but not life-ending, injury. At the time the body was thought to be that of a man, likely a white man in his 50's, and anthropologist James Chatters thought what had been found might be the body of a frontiersman of the era of Lewis and Clark.
He was stunned when bone samples sent to the University of California at Riverside for carbon dating testing revealed the remains were in excess of 9,000 years old.
Spirit Cave Man had been found some 50 years earlier east of Fallon by two archaeologists who preserved the remains on the assumption that they were those from an early Indian culture settled in the tule wetlands of what had thousands and thousands of years before been "Lake Lahontan."
It was not until 1994 that similar carbon dating on the Spirit Cave remains came up with the same astonishing results -- they were over 9,000 years old, and, from other examinations, likely those of a non-Indian.
In Washington state, the struggle over research on the ancient remains was brought quickly into focus by claims of the Umatilla Tribe across the Columbia in Oregon that the body was one of their ancestors and, under terms of the 1990 Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, must be returned to the tribe for burial. The scientists protested that the remains were evidently those of a "non-Indian" and thus not subject to the law protecting Indian grave sites and artifacts.
Despite evidence presented by a number of researchers who at first had been allowed to examine the remains or photographs of them, the federal govern-
110 Tim Findley
ment stepped in and sealed the body from any further examination, pending legal resolution, in the nuclear waste disposal center of Hanford, Washington. Tribal representatives insisted there was no basis for assuming that the remains were anything other than "Indian," and that tribal legend extending back at least 10,000 years recognized no presence of "whites" before European settlement or, for that matter, of any sort of land bridge, as scientists had postulated, linking Asia with the American continent across the Bering Strait.
The dispute is less well-defined in Nevada, where the remains of Spirit Cave Man were found long before enactment of the law protecting Native American graves and where the mummy itself was in possession of state authorities. Nevertheless, federal officials harkened back to earlier laws covering artifacts found on public land and stepped in to block the growing interest in further examination of the mummy.
There were even more complications about the Spirit Cave remains. Paiute legend, commonly heard in the Lahontan Valley near where it was found, told of the tribe encountering another race of people, some of them giants with red hair, who were only stopped from threatening the Paiute "cattail eaters" after they were trapped in a cave and its entrance set afire with piles of burning brush.
More than that, examination by noted University of Nevada anthropologist and Native American expert Kay Fowler revealed extremely puzzling aspects to the Spirit Cave mummy. It was wrapped in a shroud of reed woven in such a tight and complicated manner it was impossible to reproduce, even today, almost as if it had been done by some machine. In addition, the moccasins found on the body were made from at least three separate animal skins, and unlike any seen before in locally-found Native American remains.
The man was not so robust, or so old for his time, as the skeleton found at Kennewick. Spirit Cave Man was probably 40 to 45 years old when he died, feeble, and probably partially crippled from a misshapen spine. But someone had cared enough for him to carefully wrap him for that last journey. And beyond that, near where the mummy was found there is the unanswered puzzle of the Grimes Point petroglyphs, which no one yet has been able to translate and explain.
Testing of the moccasins alone with latest scientific techniques could lead to important clues about the culture of Spirit Cave Man.
Nevada State Museum Curator Donald R. Tuohy calls the mummy, "a world-class discovery of significance to the understanding of humanity's origins on a planetary scale."
The find, he said, "represents the adaptation to desert oases which led to agriculture in several places on earth just after this time ... and may be significant in understanding the emergence of civilization."
The scientific interest has been heightened not only by new methods of testing, but by other finds made throughout the world, including that splashed in
Spirit Cave Man Revisited 111
international headlines of the Ice Age Man found in 1994 in the Alps where he had apparently froze to death during a violent storm. That man, however, as notorious as the media made him, was at least 6,000 years younger than those found at Spirit Cave and Kennewick. Still more puzzling have been more recent reports that the Ice Age Man's remains have turned out, unexpectedly, to be of Nordic, or what we know as Scandinavian, origin.
In England, yet another 9,000 year-old mummy was found in a previously undiscovered cave last year. Without governmental interference in this case, scientists there did complete DNA and other testing of the remains and actually traced them to a living relative residing in an English town not far away from where the remains were found.
It caused a brief sensation in the British Isles, which quickly faded with the assumption that there had, after all, always been an England.
But who is related to Spirit Cave Man? Where did he come from? What happened to his people?
The basis of legislation introduced this year in the Nevada legislature challenging federal authority over the matter is intended to simply answer Amy Dansie's question: "Can we know?"
Petroglyph rocks at Grimes Point. Will we ever really know what these designs meant to the ancient peoples? (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
On the Trail of the Ancient Travelers
Michon Mackedon
The recent discovery of Caucasian features in 10,000 year old Spirit Cave Man has created renewed interest in several anthropological anomalies. For example, more evidence has recently surfaced that the first Americans may have been a Caucasoid people who came from Europe. And, the discovery of Spirit Cave Man has also breathed new life into an old Paiute legend about an alien tribe of non-Indians in the Great Basin; the legend tells of a tribe of giant, red-haired warriors whom the Paiutes finally had to exterminate for their own survival.
In a recent issue of The New Yorker, author Douglas Preston explores evidence that early inhabitants of the New World may have come from Europe rather than Northern Asia. He admits that new evidence is fragmentary and contradictory but says that it also "calls into question the standard Beringian Walk theory, which holds that the first human beings to reach the New World were Asians of Mongoloid stock, who crossed from Siberia to Alaska over a land bridge." The evidence he alludes to is a small collection of very ancient skeletons, like Spirit Cave Man and Kennewick Man, with Caucasian features. The collection includes Wizard Willie, another Nevada discovery, Hourglass Cave and Grodon's Creek remains from Colorado, the Buhl Burial from Idaho, and miscellaneous small caches of bones from Texas, California and Minnesota. Among these early skeletons, says Preston, there are no close resemblances to modern Native Americans. This might be explained by a theory that ten or fifteen thousand years ago, all Eurasians had similar Caucasoid features. Ultimately the question of the races of these early people is interesting because it could revolutionize modern assumptions about the early connections between the Old World and the New.
Speculation about revised human migratory patterns is further stimulated by stunning similarities between American Clovis stone tools (the oldest of which are 11,500 years old) and tools used by early Solutrean people of France and Spain about 16,000 to 20,000 years ago. The New Yorker quotes Bruce Bradley, the country's leading authority on Paleo-Indian flaked tools as saying, "The artifacts don't just look identical. They are made the same way." In response to the idea of some connection between Clovis people, who lived primarily in what is now New Mexico, and European Solutreans, many academics
112
On the Trail of the Ancient Travelers 113
merely scoff, pointing to a difference in the ages of the two cultures and their separation by thousands of miles of ocean. But a recent discovery of a layer of artifacts beneath a Clovis site keeps the mystery alive.
Another mystery given a different spin by the discovery of Spirit Cave Man is the Paiute legend of the Redheaded Giants. Written sources of the legend date back to the late nineteenth century, and, over the years, widespread interest in the story has led to periodic announcements by miners and amateur anthropologists of "discoveries" of the skeletal remains of these mysterious giants.
In her 1887 book, Life Among the Piutes, Sarah Winnemucca Hopkins told of a running war of extermination waged by Paiutes against a tribe of very tall red-haired "barbarians" who were cannibals. She reported that several of them had been captured, but that they were not like her Paiute people and would not be civilized. She called them "people-eaters" and said that, after three years of fighting, they were finally driven to the Lovelock cave, where they were picked off by waiting Paiute bowmen as they left for food and water. After ten days under siege, the red-haired intruders were offered peace by their Paiute captors, but the offer, like several which had been made earlier, was met by a hail of arrows and spears. Finally the Paiutes piled mounds of dry sagebrush at the mouth of the cave and lighted it. The fire was fed for ten days until no signs of life remained in the cave.
Minor variations to Winnemucca's account of the legend have surfaced in other tribes, including the Shoshone. One of these variations states that all the male Giants were killed, but some females survived and were assimilated into the Northern Paiute tribe. In yet another version, a few Giants escaped and ended up in Tule Lake, California.
The legend has been fueled by various reports of discoveries of skeletons of the Giants. For example, it was reported around 1912, that two guano miners of the Lovelock cave had found several skeletons of great height on the floor of the cave. One skeleton was said to be over seven feet tall. Another report of tall skeletons found in the Lovelock cave came from a Winnemucca artifact collector, Clarence "Pike" Stoker, who claimed to have found there a skeleton well over 6 1/2 feet tall. Stoker also said that he found in the same area a curiously incised doughnut-shaped stone, which did not appear to be the product of Paiute culture. The stone is etched with 365 dots on the outside edge and 52 dots on the inside edge, indicating its probable use as a calendar. The absence of calendars in the Paiute culture and the proximity of skeleton and stone led Stoker to speculate that both the man and the calendar were non-Indian.
The most thoroughly studied and scientifically documented tall skeletons are those in the John T. Reid collection, acquired in 1948 by the Nevada Historical Society. The collection contains fourteen skulls, skeletal remains, and one intact skeleton purported to be those of the Redheaded Giants. Reid, a Lovelock mining engineer and amateur anthropologist, had himself conducted bone measurements on the skulls and skeletal remains before turning them over to the Historical Soci-
114 Michon Mackedon
ety. His calculations, based on applying his own thigh bone/height ratio to the thigh bones in his collection, annnounced a height of 7'7" for one of the individuals and 9'6" for another -- giants indeed. However, later testing undertaken by the Historical Society and the University of Nevada Physical Anthropology Laboratory resulted in quite a different picture. Those studies concluded that, while the bones were, on the average, slighter longer than those found in similar cave burial sites around Pyramid Lake, in the Humboldt Sinks and in Churchill County, they certainly fell within the norms established by the data from those other burial sites. For example, measurements of arm and leg bones of the Reid Collection pointed to estimated heights of 5'5" to 5'11", whereas similar measurements on Humboldt Sink remains led to estimated heights of 5'5" to 5'8" and on Pyramid Lake remains, estimated heights of 5'3" to 5'9". The studies also determined similar dental patterning, morphological traits, and even disease patterns between the "giants" and other remains. Therefore the Historical Society concluded that the Reid Collection did not provide the physical evidence to support the myth of the Redheaded Giants.
In any case, Sarah Winnemucca Hopkin's Redheaded Giants, were they present at all, were seemingly part of her tribe's recent past. She spoke of them as having played a role in her tribal history and also claimed to be in possession of a buckskin dress trimmed with the red-haired scalps of the unfortunate interlopers. Conversely, Spirit Cave Man, whoever he was, is definitely not a part of any of our recent histories. Therefore, any connection between Sarah Winnemucca's Redheaded Giants and Spirit Cave Man is shrouded by the at least 9,000 years separating them, a silent and secretive span of time that does not serve to disprove the evocative legend, but certainly does little to validate it.
Bibliography
Brooks, Sheilagh, Carolyn Stark, and Richard Brooks. "John Reid's Redheaded 'Giants' of Central
Nevada: Fact or Fiction?" Nevada Historical Society Quarterly. Winter 1984, pp. 243-252.
Preston, Douglas. "The Lost Man." The New Yorker. June 16, 1997, 70-81.
Riley, Brendan. "Times Tough for Lovelock's Giant Indians." Nevada State Journal. Sunday, Sept 12, 1976.
CREATIVE FOCUS Wal-Mart
Stan Lehman
Some pretty tough hombres faced down the photographer in this picture taken at the Dry Gultch Saloon at the old Churchill County Fairgrounds in 1936. Back row, l-r: unknown, Ira L. Kent, Julius Ratti, Roy Stuart, Duke Maupin, Mabel Cushman, Pete Cushman and "Doc" Kirn. Front row, l-r: unknown, Tom Corkill, Lisle Wightman, Harold Bellinger, Don Chapman and Lem Allen. (Churchill County Museum & Archives Photograph Collection.)
By golly we finally made it
Our town just got on the map
Progress arrived with a big Wal-Mart store
Plunked right down in our lap
Progress I guess is a thing you can't stop
Like time it marches right on
It moves right in and takes over
When some of the old things are gone
115
116 Stan Lehman
That big new store I guess is okay
Probly not as bad as it sounds
I just wish they hadn't a built it
On the spot of the ole fair grounds
It's selfish I `spose to feel that way
Cause that spot's been vacant for years
They built a big new one out south of town
Where the dust and the smell ain't so near
But for those like me who remember
It's a pleasant taste of the past
And I guess I might have enjoyed it some less
If I had known that time wouldn't last
That cool still air beneath the grandstands
And it smelled a little like beer
The whole place would shake, about to fall down
When the crowd would jump up and cheer
Casey Tibbs came to town, to ride off with Bob Ford
Bet on Casey, he's the one you should choose
They each got eight head an' Ford did OK
And I'll be damned if ole' Tibbs didn't lose
I won my first buckle in that black Fallon dirt
Got bucked off my last Brahma bull
Saw more than one fight at the Dry Gulch Saloon
Kinda rough but it sure wasn't dull
There was junior stock shows, and race car events Team ropin' contests, and big Circus tents
Those things are all gone now, a fadin' piece of the past Like cowboys and Indians, no way it could last
Yup time marches on, it keeps its own pace
It passes for better or worse
Is progress a blessin', guess I'll never know
But I'm thinkin' it might be a curse
That big new store I guess is okay
Probly not as bad as it sounds
I just wish they hadn't built it
On the spot of the ole fairgrounds
Moving Camp Too Far 117
Moving Camp Too Far
Nila Northsun
i can't speak of
many moons
moving camp on travois
i can't tell of
the last great battle
counting coup or
taking scalp
i don't know what it
was to hunt buffalo
or do the ghost dance
but
i can see an eagle
almost extinct
on slurpee plastic cups
i can travel to powwows
in campers & winnebagos
i can eat buffalo meat
at the tourist burger stand
i can dance to Indian music
rock-n-roll hey-a-hey-o
i can
& unfortunately
i do
SCIENTIFIC PERSPECTIVE
Edible Plants of the Carson Sink
and the Stillwater Marshes
Ron Anglin
The Indian people who in former times lived in and around the Stillwater Marsh called themselves, and were called by others, Toidikadi, "Cattail-eaters." Their name was such because they made extensive use of the water plants that grew in the marsh, including cattails, hardstem and alkali bulrush, and various other rushes. The people used these in a variety of ways for food and manufacturing. Foods from marsh plants included the fresh or dried or ground rhizomes of cattails and bulrush, fresh shoots of the same, fresh spikes of cattails, breads of cattail pollen, mush of ground bulrush seeds, and much more. Items manufactured from marsh plants included sitting and sleeping mats, bags, clothing (dresses, shirts, sandals, hats, headbands), houses, boats, duck decoys, and again, much more. Each of these products was carefully prepared and represented traditions in food and manufacturing that can be traced in the archaeological records of western Nevada for thousands of years. Linkages in cultural traditions and language are particularly strong for the people of the Stillwater Marsh and those of the Humboldt Sink, Pyramid Lake, Walker Lake, Mono Lake and Yerington, each of whom had major lakes or marshes in their regions. (These and other people in the immediate vicinity also are speakers of the Northern Paiute language.) Archaeological linkages go to the same areas, and are particularly clear in major sites such as Lovelock Cave in the Humboldt Sink and Hidden Cave in the Stillwater Range. Each of these contain a range of materials manufactured of marsh plants, including mats, bags, sandals and duck decoys. The famous duck decoys from Lovelock Cave are more than 2,000 years old.
But the Cattail-eaters depended on more than the plants of the Stillwater Marsh. They also made extensive use for food of the many migratory and resident waterfowl that are to be found in the area. They netted several types of ducks, and shot, in former times with bow and arrow, geese, swans, pelicans, herons, cormorants and many more. They had major drives during the flightless period (late summer) for coots and other water birds, using boats made of hardstem bulrush. They also gathered the eggs of many species, sometimes preserving them by burying them in the cool mud. Waterfowl were roasted in the ashes, baked in earth ovens, boiled for stews and split and dried for later use. The
118
Edible Plants of the Desert 119
people also relied on catches of tui chub to balance their diets, along with a variety of large and small game. Deer and mountain sheep could be hunted in the Stillwater Range and rabbits, ground squirrels and other small mammals could be trapped in the Carson Desert. In all, the many products found in and around Stillwater Marsh served the people well.
But the marsh meant more to the people than just food. Many people built homes near the marshes. Their children were born there and their old people died there. The cycle of life was completed in this vicinity. The migration of its birds was a sure and positive sign of the passing of each year and the supernatural forces that kept life in balance. The people composed many songs and prayers of thanksgiving for the foods they obtained and for the lives they were able to lead in this fertile area. In addition they were able to see the sacred place of their emergence into this world immediately to the east of their homes -- Jobs Peak in the Stillwater Range. And they also knew of other sacred places in the area and felt the deep attachment to the land through these and other features.
What follows is a listing of the edible plants in our valley and a listing of their uses. Some of this material was gleaned from a 1970 publication by the State of Nevada Department of Education book entitled Uses of Native Plants by Nevada Indians. Illustrations were drawn by Mrs. Ella Hanks.
Edible Plants of Carson Desert Lowlands
NAME PART EATEN
Big sagebrush (Artemesia tridentata) seeds
Bluegrass (Poa spp.) seeds
Broomrape (Orobanche fasciculata) stalk
Broomrape (Orobanche corymbosa) stalk
Camas (Camassia esculenta) bulbs
Carved seed (Glyptopleura marginata) leaves
Cooper wolfberry (Lycium cooperi) berries
Curly dock (Rumex crispus) seeds
Cympoterus (Cymopterus globosus) roots
120 Ron Anglin
Edible Plants of Carson Desert Lowlands, continued
NAME PART EATEN
Fourwing saltbrush (Atriplex canescens) seeds
Foxtail barley (Horideum jubatum) seeds
Gooseleaf globemallow
(Sphaeralcea grossalariafolia) seeds
Indian ricegrass (Oryzopsis hymenoides) seeds
Muhly (Muhlenbergia spp.) seeds
Nevada onion (Allium nevadense) corms, leaves
Nut grass (Cyperus rotundus) tubers
Onion (Allium anceps) corms, leaves
Prickly pear (Puntia polyacantha) buds
Prince's plume (Stanleya pinnata) leaves
Saltbush (Atriplex argentea) seeds
Sego lily (Calochortus nuttallii) bulbs
Shadscale (Atriplex confertifolia) seeds
Silver buffalo berry (Shepherdia argentea) berries
Smoky mariposa lily bulbs
(Calochortus leichtlinii)
Sunflower (Balsamorrhiza sagittata) roots, roots
Tansy mustard (Descurainia pinnata) seeds
Thistle (Cirsium spp.) stalk
Tobacco-Root (Valeriana edulis) roots
Wheatgrass (Agrophyron spp.) seeds
White-stem blazing star seeds
(Mentzelia albicaulis) seeds
Wild peony (Pauonia brownii) roots
Wild rose (Rosa woodsii) hips
Witchgrass (Panicum capillare) seeds
Wolf berry (Lycium andersonii) berries
Rice Grass
Edible Plants of the Desert 121
Edible Plants of Carson Desert Uplands
NAME PART EATEN
Arrowleaf balsamroot seeds, roots
(Balsamorhiza sagittata)
Bitterroot (Lewisia rediviva) roots
Blue elderberry (Sambucus caerulea) berries
Chokeberry (Prunus virginiana) berries
Creosote Bush (Larrea tridentata) leaves
Current (Ribes aureum) berries
Great Basin wild rye (Elymus cinereus) seeds
Hairy balsamroot (Balsamorhiza hirsuta) seeds, roots
Mountain mahogany bark
(Cerocarpus ledifolius)
Nevada desert parsley roots
(Lomatium nevadense)
Onion (Allium anceps) leaves
Onion (Allium bisceptrum) leaves, bulbs
Onion (Allium platycaule) leaves, bulbs
Pinyon (Pinus monophylla) seeds
Prairie sunflower (Helianthus petiolaris) seeds
Sagebrush gooseberry (Ribes velutinum) seeds
Sego lily (Calochortus leichtlinii) bulbs
Service berry (Amelanchier alniflolia) berries
Silver buffalo berry (Shepherdia argentea) berries
Spring beauty (Claytonia umbellata) roots
Wild rose (Rosa woodsii) hips
Wolly wyethia (Wyethia mollis) seeds
Yampa (Perideridia bolanderi) roots
Bitter Root
122 Ron Anglin
Edible Plants of Marsh and Mud Flats
NAME PART EATEN
Alkali bulrush (Scirpus maritimus) seeds
American bulrush (Scirpus americanus) seeds
Cattail (Typha domingensis) pollen, shoots, seeds
Chufa fatsedge (Cypenus esculentus) tubers
Common cattail (Typha latifolia) pollen, shoots, seeds
Pickleweed (Allenrolfea occidentails) seeds
Red Sage (Kochia americana) seeds
Seepweed (Suaeds depressa) seeds
Sego pondweed tubers
(Photomageton pectinatus)
Spikerush (Eleocharis palustris) seeds
Tule bulrush (Scirpus actus) shoots, seeds
Water plantain (Alisma geyeri) stems
The following are just some of the uses the early Native American inhabitants of this area found for common plants. The words in quotes after the name are the Paiute words for that plant.
Plants Used as Food:
Rice Grass or "Wye": The seeds could be ground
into a meal. The result was a food of high value.
Bitter Root or "Kanigda": Roots were cooked after being soaked and the bark removed. Dried roots were stored for the winter. Sometimes called macaroni root. The taste resembles rice, but with a rather bitter aftertaste.
Tobacco Root or "Gwee-ya": Roots vary, but usually resemble a raw carrot. Boiled, some people think it smells and tastes like tobacco.
Chokecherry or "Daw-esha-bui": Used fresh, dried or for jelly and syrup.
Chokecherry
Edible Plants of the Desert 123
Pine Nut or "Tuba": These nuts were collected in the fall, roasted and eaten. The meal was created by pulverizing the roasted nuts. When water was added, soup was created. Babies were sometimes fed pine nut soup as a substitute fo milk.
Wild Rose or "Tsiavi": A rose-colored tea is made from the roots of this plant.
Cattail or "Tabu'oo": The greens and root tubers are eaten raw or cooked.
Rabbit Brush or "Baw-buh": Lumps and knots on the limbs of this plant are collected and used as chewing gum.
Plants Used as Medicine:
Creosote Bush or "Geroop": A tea is brewed from the leaves of this plant to
help cure colds.
Wild Peony or "Batipi": A tea is brewed from the roots of this plant to help cure lung trouble.
Acacia or "Pah oh pimb": Put four seeds in each eye upon retiring to help cure inflammation of the eyes.
Little Sagebrush or "Pava hobe kose wiup": A tea is made from the leaves of this plant for use as an eye wash.
Wormwood or "Kose-wiup": Leaves of this plant are steeped and put next to a baby's skin to reduce fever.
Indian Balsam or "Toza": The roots are dug after the seed is ripe. They are then sliced into circles and strung on a line to dry in the shade. A tea is made from the resulting chips. For a person with the flu or a fever, they are to take only this liquid for a week while they get complete bed rest.
Turtleback or "Sebu mogoonobu": For kidney and bladder aliments.
Antelope Brush or "Hunabe": The leaves are chewed for their laxative properties.
Pine Nut
124 Ron Anglin
Death Camas or "Dabi segaw": Raw roots are mashed and applied to the knee for swellings or leg ache. This poultice will adhere without a bandage.
Juniper or "Wapi": Burn a fire down to coals. Put on green juniper boughs and have the rheumatic patient lie on them and steam as they drink tea from the leaves.
Sand Dock or "Big hewovey": Stems and leaves are used as a wash for sores.
Blue Flax or "Alai natesua": The whole stem of this plant is used for stomach aches and gas.
Iris or "Poku erop": The root of this plant inserted into a tooth cavity will kill the nerve and the tooth will come out.
Milkweed or "Wipanabu": The juice of the milkweed plant is used to draw out poison from snake bites.
Wild Parsnip or "Hakinop": If bitten by a rattler, make a twist of horsehair above the wound and bind mashed raw root of the Wild Parsnip onto the wound.
Miscellaneous Uses of Plants:
Cattail or "Tabu'oo": The down of the Cattail plant was used for baby beds.
The reeds were used for making skirts and in basket weaving.
Desert Mallow or "Muha": Native Americans in Austin boiled the whole plant until it became think, then they added red clay and molded the mixture into cups.
Sagebrush or "Sawabe": Strips of the bark were dampened and were pounded until strings were formed. Skirts, sandals and overshoes were made from the strings.
Willows or "Tsube": Different kinds of willows were used in basket making. The willow often formed the framework while reeds, grasses and small or split willows formed the body. The various baskets made by the Native Americans were not only useful but were works of art.
CONTRIBUTORS
Ron Anglin was the former manager of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Stillwater National Wildlife Refuge. Leaving Fallon in August of 1996, he presently lives in Pocatello, Idaho, overseeing the management of four refuges. He has generously allowed the museum to reprint part of an article which he compiled for his sons who were members of the Boy Scouts of America.
Tim Findley is a Churchill County resident and Editor-in-Chief of the Magpie.
David Getto was born at Churchill Public Hospital, February 20, 1953. He graduated from Churchill County High School with the class of 1971 and has traveled extensively throughout the United States, Canada and Mexico and is the author of "The Local Adventure" a serial account of present and past experiences. He is the father of Annie, age 17 and Duncan, age 13. He would feel privileged to hear from friends: David Getto, 4806 Fountain Ave. #118, Los Angeles, CA 90029.
Mary Nevada Lambert was born in Ruth, Nevada. She moved to Fallon at five years of age and considers Fallon a great place to have spent her childhood. Currently she resides in Fernley. Nevada has been writing for most of her life.
Stan Lehman was born in 1945 and raised in the St. Clair district of Churchill County. His father was in charge of "outside" cattle for the Bass Ranch. Stan's love of poetry began when he read poetry in old magazines in his Dad's line shack. He began writing as a child, but only began reciting about 7 years ago. He has been featured as a State Poet at the Elko Cowboy Poetry Gathering since 1989. His first book is nearing completion.
Jan Loverin is Curator at the Nevada State Museum's Marjorie Russell Clothing and Textile Research Center. She received a Masters Degree in clothing and textiles from University of Nevada, Reno. Jan lives with her husband and son on a historic ranch in Sierra County, California.
Greg MacGregor is a professor of art and Chairman of the art department at California State University at Hayward. An accomplished writer and photographer of Western American historical themes, MacGregor has just completed a book on the California and Oregon Trails between 1841 and 1869. He has per-
125
126
sonally followed these trails many times, traversing them on foot, by four wheel drive vehicle, and even on a dirt bike where he has unearthed hundreds of historical locations along the routes.
Michon Mackedon is an English instructor at Western Nevada Community College where she was honored as the 1996 Instructor of the Year. She holds a B.A. degree in history and a Masters Degree in English, both from the University of Nevada.
Karen McNary presently serves as the Education Curator at the Churchill County Museum and has added a new perspective to the curriculum through her fascinating "Trips into the Past" and her knowledge of fibers. Karen has lived in the West for most of her life, moving to Fallon in 1993. She has a B.A. in Art and Ecology with extensive upper division studies in biology. Karen's interest in sheep came about as she learned more about spinning and dyeing fibers. Her own ewe, Amanda, a colored wool sheep, has been part of her animal menagerie for 14 years.
Denise Mondhink wrote this essay for a class assignment while enrolled as an English 101 student at Western Nevada Community College during 1995-1996.
Nila Northsun was born in 1951 in Schurz, Nevada, of Shoshone-Chippewa stock. She studied at the California State University campuses at Hayward and Humboldt and the University of Montana at Missoula. She is the author of three books of poetry and is director of an emergency youth shelter in Fallon, Nevada.
Jane Pieplow has been the Director/Curator of the Churchill County Museum since November of 1992. She also enjoys arranging music for and performing with her Fallon friends who make up Harmony Five.
Gwen Washburn is a fourth generation member of a pioneer Lahontan Valley family. She spent her childhood days bicycling over all of the roads in the southern end of the Valley and exploring Nevada with her parents and sisters. She is married to Bill Washburn and they have two grown sons, Wayne and Wesley. In addition to farming and tending to her hobbies of camping, fishing, sewing, photography and Nevada history, Gwen keeps busy attending meetings and serving the county as a Churchill County Commissioner.
CHURCHILL COUNTY IN FOCUS
ANNUAL JOURNAL OF THE CHURCHILL COUNTY MUSEUM ASSOCIATION
VOLUME #10 1996-1997 NUMBER #1
Contents
SOFT FOCUS
The Editors' Comments Michon Mackedon 1
and Jane Pieplow
SHADOW CATCHER
Clyde Kahler Mathewson Gwen Washburn 3
The Forty Mile Desert Crossing on the California Emigrant
Trail Greg MacGregor 10
SHARP FOCUS
Streets of Fallon:
Maine Street: Then and Now Jane Pieplow 23
Maine Street Brat Mary Nevada (Walker) Lambert 41
A Letter Home: "The Honest Streets of Fallon" David Getto 49
A Fashionable Lady: Annie Theelan McLean Jan Loverin 55
From Telegraph to Telephone: The History of the Churchill
County Telephone Company Jane Pieplow 64
Sheep Ranching in Churchill County: The Old Wether Tells All
Karen McNary 82
PIONEER PORTRAITS
Dixie Land Michon Mackedon 93
Memories of Dixie Denise Mondhink 105
NATIVE AMERICAN PERSPECTIVE
Spirit Cave Man Revisited Tim Findley 108
On the Trail of the Ancient Travelers Michon Mackedon 112
CREATIVE FOCUS
"Wal-Mart" Stan Lehman
"Moving Camp Too Far" Nila Northsun 115
SCIENTIFIC PERSPECTIVE
Edible Native Plants of the Carson Sink and the Stillwater Marshes ....
Ron Anglin
118
CONTRIBUTORS
125
CHURCHILL COUNTY
MUSEUM & ARCHIVES
1050 South Maine Street
Fallon, NV 89406
Phone (702) 423-3677
Fax (702) 423-3662
MUSEUM STAFF
Jane Pieplow, Director/Curator
Bunny Corkill, Research Curator
Karen McNary, Curator of Education
Janet Schmidt, Photo Technician
Shery Hayes-Zorn, Registrar
Paulie Alles, Hostess
Cindy Loper, Hostess
Georgine Scheuermann, Hostess
Bob Walker, Host
Bill Crooks, Museum Assistant
IN FOCUS STAFF
Michon Mackedon, Editor
Jane Pieplow, Editor
PRODUCTION CREDITS 1996-1997 ISSUE
Production Photography: Janet Schmidt
Typesetting: Laser Printer and PageMaker software Production: Braun-Brumfield, Inc., Ann Arbor, Michigan
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 it 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