CHAPTER 46
There were nabobs in those days—in the “flush times,” I mean. Every rich strike in the mines created one or two. I call to mind several of these. They were careless, easy-going fellows, as a general thing, and the community at large was as much benefited by their riches as they were themselves—possibly more, in some cases.
Two cousinsⒶemendation, teamsters, did some hauling for a manⒶemendation, and had to take a small segregated portion of a silver mine in lieu of three hundred dollarsⒶemendation cash. They gave an outsider a third to open the mine, and they went on teaming. But not long. Ten months afterward
One of the earliest nabobs that Nevada was delivered of wore six thousand dollars’Ⓐemendation worth ofⒶemendation diamonds in his bosom, and swore he was unhappy because he could notⒶemendation spend his money as fast as he made it.Ⓐemendation
Another Nevada nabob boasted an income that often reached sixteen thousand dollarsⒶemendation a month; and he used to love to tell how he had worked in the very mine that yielded it, for five dollarsⒶemendation a day, when heⒶemendation first came to the country.Ⓐemendation
The silver and sage-brush State has knowledge of another of these pets of fortune—lifted from actual poverty to affluence almost [begin page 300] in a single night—who was able to offer a hundred thousand dollarsⒶemendation for a position of high official distinction, shortly afterward, and did offer it—but failed to get it, his politics not being as sound as his bank account.Ⓐemendation
Then there was John Smith.Ⓐemendation He was a good, honest, kind-hearted soulⒶemendation, born andⒶemendation reared in the lower ranks of life, and miraculously ignorant. He drove a team, and owned a small ranch—a ranch that paid himⒶemendation a comfortable living, for although it yielded but little hay, what little it did yield was worth from two hundred and fiftyⒶemendation to three hundred dollarsⒶemendation in gold per ton in the market. Presently Smith traded a few acres of the ranch for a small undeveloped silver mine in Gold Hill. He opened the mine and built a little unpretending ten-stamp mill. Eighteen months afterward he retired from the hay businessⒶemendation, for his mining income had reached a most comfortable figure. Some people said it was thirty thousand dollarsⒶemendation a month, and others said it was sixty thousand dollarsⒶemendation. Smith was very rich at any rate.Ⓐemendation
And then he went to Europe and traveled. And when heⒶemendation came back heⒶemendation was never tired of telling about the fine hogs he had seen in England, and the gorgeous sheep he had seen in Spain, and the fine cattle he had noticed in the vicinity of Rome. He was full of the wondersⒶemendation of the old world, and advised everybodyⒶemendation to travel. He said a man never imagined what surprising things there were in the world till he had traveled.
One day, on board ship, the passengers made up a pool of five hundred dollarsⒶemendation, which was to be the property of the man who should come nearest to guessing the run of the vessel for the next twenty-four hours. Next day, toward noon, the figures were all in the purser’s hands in sealed envelopsⒶemendation. Smith was serene and happy, for he had been bribing the engineer. But another party won the prize! Smith said:Ⓐemendation
“Here, that won’t do! He guessed two miles wider of the mark thanⒶemendation I did.”
The purser said, “Mr. Smith, you missed it further than any man on board. We traveled two hundred and eight miles yesterday.”
“Well,Ⓐemendation sir,” said Smith, “that’s just where I’ve got you, for I guessed two hundred and nine. If you’ll look at my figgers again you’ll find a 2 and two 0’sⒶemendation, which stands for 200, don’t it?—and after [begin page 301] ’emⒶemendation you’ll find a 9 (2009), which stands for two hundred and nine. I reckon I’ll take that money, if you pleaseⒺexplanatory note.”Ⓐemendation
The Gould & CurryⒶemendation claim comprised twelve hundred feet, andⒶemendation it all belonged originally to theⒶemendation two men whose names it bears. Mr. Curry owned two-thirds of it—and he said that he sold it out for twenty-five hundred dollars, in cash, and an old plug horse that ate up his market value in hay and barley in seventeenⒶemendation days by the watch. And he said that Gould sold out for a pair of second-hand government blankets and a bottle of whisky that killed nineⒶemendation men in threeⒶemendation hours, and thatⒶemendation an unoffending stranger that smelt the cork was disabled for life. Four years afterward the mine thus disposed of was worth in the San Francisco market seven millionⒶemendation six hundred thousand dollars in gold coinⒺexplanatory note.
In the early days a poverty-stricken Mexican who lived in a cañon directlyⒶemendation back of Virginia City, had a stream of water as large as a man’s wrist trickling from the hillside on his premises. The Ophir Company segregated a hundred feetⒶemendation of their mine and tradedⒶemendation it to him for the stream of water. The hundred feetⒶemendation proved to be the richest part of the entire mine; four years after the swap, its market value (including its mill)Ⓐemendation was one million five hundred thousand dollarsⒺexplanatory note.Ⓐemendation
An individual who owned twentyⒶemendation feet in the Ophir mine before its great riches were revealed to men, traded it for a horse, and a very sorry-lookingⒶemendation brute he was,Ⓐemendation too. A year or so afterward, when Ophir stock went up to three thousand dollarsⒶemendation a foot, this man, who had notⒶemendation a cent, used to say he was the most startling example of magnificence and misery the world had ever seen—because he was able to ride a sixty-thousand-dollar horseⒺexplanatory note—yet could not scrape up cash enough to buy a saddle, and was obliged to borrow one or ride barebackⒶemendation. He said if fortune were to give him another sixty-thousand-dollarⒶemendation horse it would ruin him.Ⓔexplanatory note Ⓐemendation
A youth of nineteen, who was a telegraph operator in Virginia on a salary of a hundred dollars a month, and who, when he could not make out German names in the list of San Francisco steamer arrivals, used to ingeniously select and supply substitutes for them out of an old Berlin city directory, made himself rich by watching the mining telegramsⒺexplanatory note that passed through his hands and buying and selling stocks accordingly, through a friend in San Francisco. [begin page 302] Once when a private dispatch was sent from Virginia announcing a rich strike in a prominent mine and advising that the matter be kept secret till a large amount of the stock could be secured, he bought forty “feet” of the stock at twenty dollars a foot, and afterward sold half of it at eight hundred dollars a foot and the rest at double that figure. Within three months he was worth a hundred and fifty thousand dollarsⒶemendation, and had resigned his telegraphic position.
Another telegraph operator who had been discharged by the company for divulging the secrets of the office, agreed with a moneyed man in San Francisco to furnish him the result of a great Virginia mining lawsuit within an hour after its private reception by the parties to it in San Francisco. For this he was to have a large [begin page 303] percentage of the profits on purchases and sales made on it by his fellow-conspirator. So he went, disguised as a teamster, to a little wayside telegraph office in the mountains, got acquainted with the operator, and sat in the office day after day, smoking his pipe, complaining that his team was fagged out and unable to travel—and meantime listening to the dispatches as they passed clicking through the machine from Virginia. Finally the private dispatch announcing the result of the lawsuit sped over the wires, and as soon as he heard it he telegraphed his friend in San Francisco:
“Am tired waiting. Shall sell the team and go home.”
It was the signal agreed upon. The word “waiting” left out, would have signified that the suit had gone the other way. The mock teamster’s friend picked up a deal of the mining stock, at low figures, before the news became public, and a fortune was the resultⒺexplanatory note.
For a long time after one of the great Virginia mines had been incorporated, about fifty feet of the original location were still in the hands of a man who had never signed the incorporation papers. The stock became very valuable, and every effort was made to find this man, but he had disappeared. Once it was heard that he was in New York, and one or two speculators went east but failed to find him. Once the news came that he was in the Bermudas, and straightway a speculator or two hurried east and sailed for Bermuda—but he was not there. Finally he was heard of in Mexico, and a friend of his, a barkeeperⒶemendation on a salary, scraped together a little money and sought him out, bought his “feet” for a hundred dollars, returned and sold the property for seventy-five thousand dollarsⒺexplanatory note Ⓐemendation.
But why go on? The traditions of Silverland are filled with instances like these, and I would never get through enumerating them were I to attempt toⒶemendation do it. I only desired to give the reader an idea of a peculiarity of the “flush times” which I could not present so strikingly in any other way, and which some mention of was necessary to a realizing comprehension of the time and the country.
I was personallyⒶemendation acquainted with the majority of the nabobs I have referred toⒶemendation, and so, for old acquaintance sakeⒶtextual note, I have shiftedⒶemendation their occupations and experiencesⒶemendation around in such a way as to keep the Pacific public from recognizing these once notorious men. No [begin page 304] longer notorious, for the majority of them have drifted back into poverty and obscurity againⒶemendation. Ⓔexplanatory note
In Nevada there used to be current the story of an adventure of two of her nabobs, which may or may not have occurred. I give it for what it is worth:
Col. Jim had seen somewhat of the world, and knew more or less of its ways; but Col. Jack was from the back settlements of the States, had led a life of arduous toil, and had never seen a city. These two, blessed with sudden wealth, projected a visit to New York,—Col. Jack to see the sights, and Col. Jim to guard his unsophistication from misfortune. They reached San Francisco in the night, and sailed in the morning. Arrived in New York, Col. Jack said:
“I’ve heard tell of carriages all my life, and now I mean to have a ride in one; I don’t care what it costs. Come along.”
They stepped out on the sidewalk, and Col. Jim called a stylish barouche. But Col. Jack said:
“No, sir! None of your cheap-John turn-outs for me. I’m here to have a good time, and money ain’t any object. I mean to have the nobbiest rig that’s going. Now here comes the very trick. Stop that yaller one with the pictures on it—don’t you fret—I’ll stand all the expenses myself.”
So Col. Jim stopped an empty omnibus, and they got in. Said Col. Jack:
“Ain’t it gay, though? Oh, no, I reckon not! Cushions, and windows, and pictures, till you can’t rest. What would the boys say if they could see us cutting a swell like this in New York? By George, I wish they could see us.”
Then he put his head out of the window, and shouted to the driver:
“Say, Johnny, this suits me!—suits yours truly, you betⒶemendation you! I want this shebang all day. I’m on it, old man! Let ’em out! Make ’em go! We’ll make it all right with you, sonny!”
The driver passed his hand through the strap-hole, and tapped for his fare—it was before the gongs came into common use. Col. Jack took the hand, and shook it cordially. He said:
“You twig me, old pard! All right between gents. Smell of that, and see how you like it!”
[begin page 305] And he put a twenty-dollar gold piece in the driver’s hand. After a moment the driver said he could not make change.
“Bother the change! Ride it out. Put it in your pocket.”
Then to Col. Jim, with a sounding slap on his thigh:
“Ain’t it style, though?
The omnibus stopped, and a young lady got in. Col. Jack stared a moment, then nudged Col. Jim with his elbow:
“Don’t say a word,” he whispered. “Let her ride, if she wants to. Gracious, there’s room enough.”
The young lady got out her porte-monnaie, and handed her fare to Col. Jack.
“What’s this for?” said he.
“Give it to the driver, please.”
“Take back your money, madam. We can’t allow it. You’re welcome to ride here as long as you please, but this shebang’s chartered, and we can’t let you pay a cent.”
The girl shrunk into a corner, bewildered. An old lady with a basket climbed in, and proffered her fare.
“Excuse me,” said Col. Jack. “You’re perfectly welcome here, madam, but we can’t allow you to pay. Set right down there, mum, and don’t you be the least uneasy. Make yourself just as free as if you was in your own turn-out.”
Within two minutes, three gentlemen, two fat women, and a couple of children, entered.
“Come right along, friends,” said Col. Jack; “don’t mind us. This is a free blow-out.” Then he whispered to Col. Jim, “New York ain’t no sociable place, I don’t reckon—it ain’t no name for it!”
He resisted every effort to pass fares to the driver, and made everybody cordially welcome. The situation dawned on the [begin page 306] people, and they pocketed their money, and delivered themselves up to covert enjoyment of the episode. Half a dozen more passengers entered.
“Oh, there’s plenty of room,” said Col. Jack. “Walk right in, and make yourselves at home. A blow-out ain’t worth anything as a blow-out, unless a body has company.” Then in a whisper to Col. Jim: “But ain’t these New Yorkers friendly? And ain’t they cool about it, too? Icebergs ain’t anywhere. I reckon they’d tackle a hearse, if it was going their way.”
More passengers got in; more yet, and still more. Both seats were filled, and a file of men were standing up, holding on to the cleats overhead. Parties with baskets and bundles were climbing up on the roof. Half-suppressed laughter rippled up from all sides.
[begin page 307] “Well, for clean, cool, out-and-out cheek, if this don’t bang anything that ever I saw, I’m an Injun!” whispered Col. Jack.
A Chinaman crowded his way in.
“I weaken!” said Col. Jack. “Hold on, driver! Keep your seats, ladies and gents. Just make yourselves free—everything’s paid for. Driver, rustle these folks around as long as they’re a mind to go—friends of ours, you know. Take them everywheres—and if you want more money, come to the St. Nicholas, and we’ll make it all right. Pleasant journey to you, ladies and gents—go it just as long as you please—it shan’t cost you a cent!”
The two comrades got out, and Col. Jack said:
“Jimmy, it’s the sociablest place I ever saw. The Chinaman waltzed in as comfortable as anybody. If we’d staid awhile, I reckon we’d had some niggers. B’ George, we’ll have to barricade our doors to-night, or some of these ducks will be trying to sleep with us.”
a friend . . . sought him out, bought his “feet” . . . and sold the property for seventy-five thousand dollars] A similar story is told of John W. Mackay (1831–1902), who became famous in the 1870s as a “Big Bonanza” millionaire. In 1863 the owners of the Kentuck mine were prevented from incorporating by the disappearance of one of the original locators, who still owned several shares in the mine. Learning that he was with the Confederate army in Tennessee, Mackay traced him and returned
with the missing block of feet and a bill of sale to show his ownership. Mackay never revealed how he secured them but the legend insists he dogged his man into the front lines before Chattanooga and wrangled over the price while Parrott rifles boomed and Minié balls ripped overhead. (Beebe and Clegg, 66)