25. CHAPTER XXV.
ORIGINALLY, Nevada was a part of Utah and was called
Carson county; and a pretty large county it was, too. Certain of its
valleys produced no end of hay, and this attracted small colonies
of Mormon stock-raisers and farmers to them. A few orthodox
Americans straggled in from California, but no love was lost
between the two classes of colonists. There was little or no
friendly intercourse; each party staid to itself. The Mormons were
largely in the majority, and had the additional advantage of being
peculiarly under the protection of the Mormon government of the
Territory. Therefore they could afford to be distant, and even
peremptory toward their neighbors. One of the traditions of
Carson Valley illustrates the condition of things that prevailed at
the time I speak of. The hired girl of one of the American families
was Irish, and a Catholic; yet it was noted with surprise that she
was the only person outside of the Mormon ring who could get
favors from the Mormons. She asked kindnesses of them often,
and always got them. It was a mystery to everybody. But one day
as she was passing out at the door, a large bowie knife dropped
from under her apron, and when her mistress asked for an
explanation she observed that she was going out to "borry a
wash-tub from the Mormons!"
In 1858 silver lodes were discovered in "Carson County," and
then the aspect of things changed. Californians began to flock in,
and the American element was soon in the majority.
Allegiance to Brigham Young and Utah was renounced, and a
temporary territorial government for "Washoe" was instituted by
the citizens. Governor Roop was the first and only chief
magistrate of it. In due course of time Congress passed a bill to
organize "Nevada Territory," and President Lincoln sent out
Governor Nye to supplant Roop.
At this time the population of the Territory was about twelve
or fifteen thousand, and rapidly increasing. Silver mines were
being vigorously developed and silver mills erected. Business of
all kinds was active and prosperous and growing more so day by
day.
The people were glad to have a legitimately constituted
government, but did not particularl enjoy having strangers from
distant States put in authority over them—a sentiment that was
natural enough. They thought the officials should have been
chosen from among themselves from among prominent citizens
who had earned a right to
such promotion, and who would be in sympathy with the populace
and likewise thoroughly acquainted with the needs of the
Territory. They were right in viewing the matter thus, without
doubt. The new officers were "emigrants," and that was no title to
anybody's affection or admiration either.
The new government was received with considerable coolness.
It was not only a foreign intruder, but a poor one. It was not even
worth plucking—except by the smallest of small fry office-seekers
and such. Everybody knew that Congress had appropriated only
twenty thousand dollars a year in greenbacks for its support—about
money enough to run a quartz mill a month. And everybody knew,
also, that the first year's money was still in Washington, and that
the getting hold of it would be a tedious and difficult process.
Carson City was too wary and too wise to open up a credit account
with the imported bantling with anything like indecent haste.
There is something solemnly funny about the struggles of a
new-born Territorial government to get a start in this world. Ours
had a trying time of it. The Organic Act and the "instructions"
from the State Department commanded that a legislature should be
elected at such-and-such a time, and its sittings inaugurated at
such-and-such a date. It was easy to get legislators, even at three
dollars a day, although board was four dollars and fifty cents, for
distinction has its charm in Nevada as well as elsewhere, and there
were plenty of patriotic souls out of employment; but to get a
legislative hall for them to meet in was another matter altogether.
Carson blandly declined to give a room rent-free, or let one to the
government on credit.
But when Curry heard of the difficulty, he came forward,
solitary and alone, and shouldered the Ship of State over the bar
and got her afloat again. I refer to
"Curry—Old
Curry—Old Abe Curry."
But for him the legislature would have been obliged to sit
in the desert. He offered his large stone building just outside the
capital limits, rent-free, and it was gladly accepted. Then he built
a horse-railroad from town
to the capitol, and carried the legislators gratis.
He also furnished pine benches and chairs for the legislature, and
covered the floors with clean saw-dust by way of carpet and
spittoon combined. But for Curry the government would have died
in its tender infancy. A canvas partition to separate the Senate
from the House of Representatives was put up by the Secretary, at
a cost of three dollars and forty cents, but the United States
declined to pay for it. Upon being reminded that the "instructions"
permitted the payment of a liberal rent for a legislative hall, and
that that money was saved to the country by Mr. Curry's
generosity, the United States said that did not alter the matter, and
the three dollars and forty cents would be subtracted from the
Secretary's eighteen hundred dollar salary—and
it
was!
The matter of printing was from the beginning an interesting
feature of the new government's difficulties. The Secretary was
sworn to obey his volume of written "instructions," and these
commanded him to do two certain things without fail, viz.:
1. Get the House and Senate journals printed; and,
2. For this work, pay one dollar and fifty cents per "thousand"
for composition, and one dollar and fifty cents per "token" for
press-work, in greenbacks.
It was easy to swear to do these two things, but it was entirely
impossible to do more than one of them. When greenbacks had
gone down to forty cents on the dollar, the prices regularly charged
everybody by printing establishments were one dollar and fifty
cents per "thousand" and one dollar and
fifty cents per "token," in
gold. The
"instructions" commanded that the Secretary regard a paper
dollar issued by the government as equal to any other dollar issued
by the government. Hence the printing of the journals was
discontinued. Then the United States sternly rebuked the
Secretary for disregarding the "instructions," and warned him to
correct his ways. Wherefore he got some printing done, forwarded
the bill to Washington with full exhibits of the high prices of
things in the Territory, and called attention to a printed market
report wherein it would be observed that even hay was two
hundred and fifty dollars a ton. The United States responded by
subtracting the printing-bill from the Secretary's suffering
salary—and moreover remarked with dense gravity that he would
find nothing in his "instructions" requiring him to purchase
hay!
Nothing in this world is palled in such impenetrable obscurity
as a U.S. Treasury Comptroller's understanding. The very fires of
the hereafter could get up nothing more than a fitful glimmer in it.
In the days I speak of he never could be made to comprehend why
it was that twenty thousand dollars would not go as far in Nevada,
where all commodities ranged at an enormous figure, as it would
in the other Territories, where exceeding cheapness was the rule.
He was an officer who looked out for the little expenses all the
time. The Secretary of the Territory kept his office in his
bedroom, as I before remarked; and he charged the United States
no rent, although his "instructions" provided for that item and he
could have justly taken advantage of it (a thing which I would have
done with more than lightning promptness if I had been Secretary
myself). But the United States never applauded this devotion.
Indeed, I think my country was ashamed to have so improvident a
person in its employ.
Those "instructions" (we used to read a chapter from them
every morning, as intellectual gymnastics, and a couple of chapters
in Sunday school every Sabbath, for they treated of all subjects
under the sun and had much valuable religious
matter in them along with the other statistics) those "instructions"
commanded that pen-knives, envelopes, pens and writing-paper be
furnished the members of the legislature. So the Secretary made
the purchase and the distribution. The knives cost three dollars
apiece. There was one too many, and the Secretary gave it to the
Clerk of the House of Representatives. The United States said the
Clerk of the House was not a "member" of the legislature, and took
that three dollars out of the Secretary's salary, as usual.
White men charged three or four dollars a "load" for sawing up
stove-wood. The Secretary was sagacious enough to know that the
United States would never pay any such price as that; so he got an
Indian to saw up a load of office wood at one dollar and a half. He
made out the usual voucher, but signed no name to it—simply
appended a note explaining that an Indian had done the work, and
had done it in a very capable and satisfactory way, but could not
sign the voucher owing to lack of ability in the necessary direction.
The Secretary had to pay that dollar and a half. He thought the
United States would admire both his economy and his honesty in
getting the work done at half price and not putting a pretended
Indian's signature to the voucher, but the United States did not see
it in that light.
The United States was too much accustomed to employing
dollar-and-a-half thieves in all manner of official capacities to
regard his explanation of the voucher as having any foundation in
fact.
But the next time the Indian sawed wood for us I taught him to
make a cross at the bottom of the voucher—it looked
like a cross that had been drunk a year—and then I "witnessed" it
and it went through all right. The United States never said a word.
I was sorry I had not made the voucher for a thousand loads of
wood instead of one.
The government of my country snubs honest simplicity but fondles
artistic villainy, and I think I might have developed into a very
capable pickpocket if I had remained in the public service a year
or two.
That was a fine collection of sovereigns, that first Nevada
legislature. They levied taxes to the amount of thirty or forty
thousand dollars and ordered expenditures to the extent
of about a million. Yet they had their little periodical explosions
of economy like all other bodies of the kind. A member proposed
to save three dollars a day to the nation by dispensing with the
Chaplain. And yet that short-sighted man needed the Chaplain
more than any other member, perhaps, for he generally sat with his
feet on his desk, eating raw turnips, during the morning
prayer.
The legislature sat sixty days, and passed private tollroad
franchises all the time. When they adjourned it was estimated that
every citizen owned about three franchises, and it was believed
that unless Congress gave the Territory another degree of
longitude there would not be room enough to accommodate the
toll-roads. The ends of them were hanging over the boundary line
everywhere like a fringe.
The fact is, the freighting business had grown to such
important proportions that there was nearly as much excitement
over suddenly acquired toll-road fortunes as over the wonderful
silver mines.