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CHAPTER XXI.

JOURNALISM.

BY WELLS DRURY.

            The early history of Nevada journalism sparkles with brilliant names.

            There were giants in those days who were intellectually the peers of the best in the profession anywhere in the United States. Their writings were quoted north, south, east and west. In editorial utterance they were outspoken, vigorous, free, sometimes fierce, almost savage, using that word in its classical significance. With a boundless prodigality they scattered gems of thought and shafts of wit through their columns, lending life and color to the current history of their sagebrush plains and mine-bearing crags and canyons.

            To call the roll would be to summon memories of the best writers the Pacific Coast has produced.

            Let those who have gone beyond the border be honored first. Their names are household words now in places beyond the confines of the State that first gave inspiration to their pens.

            Mark Twain, Dan De Quill, Harry Mighels, Rollin M. Daggett, Denis McCarthy, Arthur McEwen and W. J. Forbes head the shining list.

            Where in the world would you find their peers today ? For in a case like this the barbarians do not count.

            The history of journalism in Nevada begins with the Territorial Enterprise. It was started in Genoa in 1858 and "died with its boots on" in Virginia City, January, 1893.

            The fact that such a notable paper as the Enterprise ceased its publication caused widespread comment throughout the country. The leading journals of the United States published sympathetic and stirring obituaries. Its loss was felt everywhere.

            The San Francisco Examiner at once wired to different writers who had flourished with the Comstock in the old days and asked them to write

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their impressions of the paper as they remembered it in the days of its robust manhood.

            The impressions of these writers occupied a full page in the Examiner of Sunday, January 22, 1893.

            Mark Twain, humorist, philosopher, prophet, sage, genuinely human in every fibre, a keen observer and faithful chronicler of much that was picturesque in our western life, that else had gone unrecorded. If ever a writer lived who truthfully can be said to have "added to the gaiety of nations," Mark Twain is the man. It is not necessary to refer to the monumental hoax which first brought him to the attention of an astounded, an exasperated public. Everybody knows the story of the faked-up "Massacre in the Giant Forest Surrounding Dutch Nick's, on the Carson River," for the yarn has been translated into nearly all the languages of the world, and all have been assured time and again that as a matter of fact no forest existed within miles of the place, the barren landscape having scarcely enough scrubby sagebrush to serve as a refuge for a jackrabbit. Nor is it requisite to recount the origin of "The Jumping Frog of Calaveras," which subsequently was transformed into Greek, and for a time masqueraded as a reminiscence from the days of Homer. The simple truth is that Twain got his little trifle from Jim Gillis (a brother of Steve Gillis), formerly of Jackass Hill, Toulumne County, California, and gave it immortality among the seven best stories of the world. Mark had but scant faith in these productions, not considering them his best work, but if all his other writings were forgotten these would still keep him in mind. Furthermore, it is almost unpardonable to insert a note telling that Mark's real name was Samuel Langhorne Clemens. Nobody cares for that, any more than they do for the gratuitous information that Dan De Quille's name actually was William Wright. What difference does it make what they were christened? Mark Twain and Dan De Quille they were called when among the people they loved, and so they will remain.

            Dan De Quille, dear, gentle soul ; the happy possessor of a fine spirit that rejoiced in every noble thought, must have gone to the reward that awaits the pure in heart. Joseph T. Goodman, for whom both Mark and Dan worked, recently said to this writer :

            "Isn't it so singular that Mark Twain should live and Dan De Quille fade out? If anyone had asked me in 1863 which was to be an immortal name, I should unhesitatingly have said Dan De Quille. They had about

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equal talent and sense of humor, but the difference was the way in which they used their gifts. One shrank from the world ; the other braved it, and it recognized his audacity. To show how shrinking old Dan was, when I first brought him out of the brush in 1861—as I brought Mark Twain just a year afterwards—he couldn't write in our one-room helter-skelter, press, composition and editorial quarters, so I had to hire a cabin for him just back of the office, which he had all to himself, and did his work there for some months. But he got bravely over that, and in the end could write undisturbed in any confusion."

            Dan knew his own ability as well as anybody, and realized that he had allowed Mark to outstrip him, but he was never envious. He always rejoiced in his old companion's good fortune. Dan De Quille wrote so many good things that it would be wearisome even to give the list. Here is a touch of his humor in reciting one of the experiences of the "local" or city editor. It is entitled, "What Fun a 'Local' has—A Specimen of the Tun' ":

            How often it happens that some one—generally Mr. Jenkins—comes to the hungry, itemless "local" with "Oh, such a rich joke!" on his friend Slasher, a man with whom you (the local) have not the slightest acquaintance. Jenkins is very anxious—persistently so—to have you get off his great joke on Slasher. He assures you over and over that he and Slasher are the greatest friends alive, and that he wouldn't for the world say or do a thing to hurt Slasher's feelings—why, Slasher regularly dotes on him, and he does the same by Slasher.

            The item will tickle Slasher when he sees it—he is such a jolly dog, this Slasher ; so good-natured and fond of a joke. Jenkins is sorry you don't know Slasher; he is sure you would like him, and he will introduce you to Slasher the first opportunity.

            Finally Jenkins tells you the immense joke on Slasher and laughs—oh, how he laughs. He knows Slasher, and can see him in his mind's eye, and all the circumstances attendant upon the joke are vividly impressed upon his mind It is a rich thing as he sees it, but to you it has no point, and your make-believe laugh is a sorry effort.

            You are at last coaxed into making a promise to publish the joke, as you are assured that the jolly dog, Slasher, has some inkling of the matter and will rather expect to see himself in print. You make a note of the outlines of the joke, and for the remainder of the day are quite miserable every time you see the same. You don't see how you are to make anything readable out of the flimsy skeleton furnished you. You find in reality the man Jenkins has thrown upon your shoulders nearly the whole responsibility of getting up the joke.

            However, the man so much doted upon by Slasher has given you liberty to color the thing up; in fact, said to you several times: "Color it up! color it up! D--n it, you know how to do these things!" You write up the joke and do "color it up" with a vengeance. Finally, you make a passable thing of it.

            Next morning you seat yourself in the sanctum and look over the paper. You come to the joke, and as you read it in the big, clear type, it seems to loom up, and looks a great deal bolder than it did in manuscript. You begin to think you may have added a trifle too much color, yet the thing is rather funny and you laugh

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just a little, for at the moment there comes a rap at the door—a regular shower of thundering raps.

            You are somewhat startled, but by an effort recover your equanimity, and in a cheerful tone say: "Come in."

            The door opens and in comes a huge, broad-shouldered, black-whiskered, six-footer, striding in tremendous boots that have soles two inches thick and tops that reach above his knees. He wears a very slouchy slouched hat, and has awful arms and hands. The giant eyes you over.

            "My name," he cries, in thunder tones, "is Slasher !"

            He might have saved himself the trouble of speaking. You knew the moment you heard the knock at the door that Slasher was coming, and the moment the boots and whiskers marched towards you that Slasher had come—Slasher in all the awfulness and grandeur of his wrath.

            "My name is Slasher, and I want to know what in the name of — this means? This, sir—this!" pointing with his big hairy forefinger to that "great joke."

            You cough and try to make out you don't see just what he is pointing out.

            "Did you write this?" still pointing at the great joke on him given you by his bosom friend Jenkins.

            You finally say you did publish the thing—it is only a thing now—at the earnest solicitation of his most intimate and particular friend, Joshua P. Jenkins, Esq.

            "Him! Jenkins? That d—d ass! That squirt! That sneaking impertinent, bladder-headed puppy! Jenkins? Why, the sneaking, low-lived pimple! I'll mash him the first time I meet him; I'll spread his nose all over his face. As for you, sir, you ought to have had better sense. By thunder, I ought to pull your nose! I've half a mind to pull it anyhow !" but, after eyeing you a moment, he gives a snort, turns on his heel, and departs.

            Thus you make the acquaintance of that jolly dog Slasher, and all without the cold formality of the introduction promised you by his bosom friend, Jenkins.

            Joined with his power for compelling laughter, Dan had ability to endow the most carelessly written paragraph with a touch of pathos that was irresistible.

            Brave as a lion unpretentious, modest to the point of bashfulness, he never reaped the full fruition of hopes that he secretly cherished. His intrepid soul was disclosed when after Farmer Peel had accomplished one of his killings, and the Virginia City Enterprise contained an accurate account of the affray, Dan braved the anger of the man-slayer. Hearing that Peel was threatening vengeance, Dan sought the gunfighter and found him in his favorite saloon. "I hear you are looking for me," said Dan. Peel saw at a glance that the tall, slender reporter was not afraid of him, and replied that he was nettled at the plain words of the account of the shooting, but that after reading over a second time he found that in the main it was true and so he had decided that there was no grounds for complaint. 'Whatever were his failings, and notwithstanding the general belief that bullies are cowards, Peel was really a brave man, and in Dan De Quille he recognized an equal in the only realm of which he had any conception. That episode established Dan's reputation for intre-

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pidity, and won the respect not only of Farmer Peel, but of all his ilk. They knew that if Dan wrote the account of their affrays they would get even-handed justice, so far as he was able to portray it in clear cut Anglo-Saxon. At another time Dan took a knife from a "bad man" who objected to having his exploits mentioned in the public press. If Dan had killed the brute he would not have been arrested. It was not absolutely necessary for an editor to fight as well as write, but at least he must show a willingness to defend himself in a manly way and stand on his rights, no matter what the result, or else his usefulness in journalism would be impaired to the verge of nothingness. In other words, he might as well walk the grade, first as last, since his days were likely to be few and full of trouble.

            Journalism in Nevada was uneven—that is, sometimes there were big stories of killings, with the succeeding inquests and trials, and then there might be a lull which to a reporter who was not resourceful would be fatal. Here was where Dan could shine. His invention was inexhaustible. Out of the merest trifles he produces columns of solid type. From filmy threads of unreality he evolved postulates and spun theories that startled scientists and set the Barnum's of the country by the ears. Who of the old-timers will forget his pseudo-erudite account of "The Traveling Stones of Pahranagat Valley" ? With feigned scientific minuteness he showed how these traveling stones were by some mysterious power drawn together and then scattered wide apart, only to be returned in moving, quivering masses to what appeared to be the magnetic center of the valley. Upon these pretended observations he predicated a new doctrine concerning electrical propulsion and repulsion. Dan called this kind of a production a "quaint," and when this "quaint" reached Germany it caused a furore among a select set of men who were dabbling in the study of electromagnetic currents. Their secretary wrote to Dan demanding further details. In vain he disclaimed the truth of his skit. His denial was treated as an unprofessional attempt to keep his brother scientists in ignorance of the truth concerning natural laws, the effects of which they were convinced had been first observed and recorded by "Herr Dan De Quille, the eminent physicist of Virginiastadt, Nevada."

            The greatest circus-man of America sent an offer of $10,000 if Dan could make these magnetized stones perform under a canvas tent in the way described in his article.

            A leading engineering journal took up and indorsed as entirely feasible

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Dan's proposition to have the next thing to perpetual motion in pumping machinery by causing a windmill to hoist loose sand during the hours when the wind blew, in addition to the usual load of water, and to arrange for having this sand operate turbine wheels and thus keep on pumping after the wind had died away. Dan's description of such an apparatus, which he said was invented by Colonel James W. E. Townsend, of Mono Lake, was so convincing that an engineer in Boston actually figured out the exact horsepower to be produced by the machinery in question.

            Another clever "quaint" of Dan's was the account of the man who invented a helmet to wear when crossing the hot valleys of Nevada. It was fitted up with an ammonia tank inside and the evaporation of the ammonia furnished the cold air to neutralize the effects of the heat. The man started out and, not being heard of for several days, a relief expedition was sent after him. They found him sitting on a boulder in the desert all covered with icicles and frozen stiff in July. Dan explained that he had loaded up the apparatus with too much ammonia with the most unhappy results.

            When the newspapers of the coast took Dan to task for his trifling, Dan only laughed and resolved never to do it again, but the next time that items were scarce he was tempted and fell from grace.

            These diversions, of course, were only occasional and desultory. In his regular work Dan was a model of method and accuracy. This made his hoaxes all the more dangerous. His established reputation for dependability caused all his readers who were unacquainted with this playful proclivity to accept as absolute verity every word that he wrote.

            The exciting times of the Big Bonanza and its season of riotous prosperity is described by Dan De Quille in his book of that name. The manuscript for this volume was produced while Dan was on a visit to Mark Twain in his eastern home. It is a pleasure of the present recorder to here set down the substance of a conversation with Dan wherein he expressed the warmest gratitude to Mark for his kindness and generosity during the time of tribulation which every author will recognize as the period when he was in the hands of the publishers and proof-readers. This ought to settle for all time the cruel whispers that there was estrangement between these old time companions. As a matter of fact, the strongest attachment existed between them and this was undisturbed to the day of Dan's death.

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            This is as good a place as any to tell a little story about Dan's last days. He was growing old, the Enterprise had suspended, and he had nothing to do. He offered to the editor of a San Francisco paper a sheaf of manuscript stories, and they were accepted at current rates, but Dan was not physically able to produce enough of these to support him, and he confided to the editor the fact that he longed for nothing so much as to get back to his folks in Iowa. But he was too proud to confess his poverty to anyone on whom he had a natural claim, preferring rather to depend on the assistance of persons to whom he could give quid pro quo to the full extent of his wasted strength.

            These facts were conveyed to the late John W. Mackay, who at once telegraphed from New York for Dick Dey to go to Virginia City, find Dan De Quille, pay all his debts, fit him out with two suits of the best clothing the town would afford, buy him a railroad ticket to any place to which he desired to go, employ a companion to take care of him on the trip to his home, and establish a credit at the Bank of Nevada so that Dan would receive $6o a week as long as he lived. That was the deed of white man, and when John Mackay comes to the final account that deed will shine beside him like an angel.

            Arthur McEwen.—Justice—plain, every-day, unalloyed justice—was the keynote of Arthur McEwen's life. He was so impatient of practices growing out of unjust impositions and unfair discriminations that his writings raised up a host of powerful enemies. He was honored by their hatred. He earned their dislike by denouncing their evil methods. Those who were most intimately associated with Arthur McEwen know that in all his dealings with public men and public affairs he submitted every proposition to the touchstone of truth. If misinformed or misled in any way he had the courage to acknowledge the error and make amends. It takes a strong, may man to do that. No man will do it unless he is both frank and just. Aside from this estimate of his character, it may be truthfully pointed out that McEwen's ability received the widest and most positive recognition in the greater world of newspaper work, not only on the Pacific Coast, but throughout the country. In journals of national importance he more than held his own in contests with the strongest publicists. His impetuous onslaughts were tempered and weighted with the power of unanswerable logic. He buttressed his arguments with historical citations that could not be disputed. His infer-

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ences were keen and searching, his conclusions irrefutable. In truth he wielded a broadsword and sent many a discomfited opponent reeling from the arena of debate. As a humorist his utterances were likely to take the form of satire, but he had a light touch of the pen and a wit that barbed his words with fire.            1

            Harry Mighels.—The fine play of Harry Mighels's wit was the delight of old-time readers of the Carson Appeal. If McEwen's weapon was the "claymore," then it would be appropriate to assign the rapier to Mighels'. His "blade was both sword and shield," and woe betide the luckless wight who recklessly risked a taste of its shrewd metal. But he was not vindictive. After running a poor fellow through (speaking journalistically), he disdained to dance on the corpse, as some of his contemporaries would do, but allowed the rites of decent burial to the fragments of even his most implacable foe. There was another phase of his personality disclosed in his intermittent column of gossip, which he labeled "Notes and Queries," part of which material was reprinted in book form as "Sagebrush Leaves."

            His editorials were winged words and he had a profound grasp of political affairs. His philosophical ruminations were original, spontaneous, brand new and with the unmistakable stamp of genius upon them and minted from the brain of a scholar and a gentleman.

            One would look over his little one-horse country paper with wonder and surprise to find such a cultivated writer presiding over it. It was like "finding money in ashes," to use one of his own expressions.

            His extraordinary work, however, made him known and quoted all over the Union and he probably commanded the highest salary ever paid a Pacific Coast writer.

            In one of the big campaigns in California the party realized that they needed some extra editorial work done in San Francisco and wired Mighels to come down and edit a Republican newspaper and asked him to name his terms. He wired his figures, "$500 a week," thinking that they would drop the matter but the reply came, "Come at once."

            He spent a couple of months running a red-hot campaign paper such as San Francisco has never since enjoyed and some of the people he put on the pillory were rather glad when he returned to the quiet pursuits of running his little Carson newspaper. He was a quick and ready debater, and his political speeches always attracted large audiences.

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            He was an ardent Republican in politics and presided over the House as Speaker during the eighth session of the Legislature.

            Rollin M. Daggett dearly loved a fight. The roar of battle was music to his ears. The smell of burning powder was incense to his nostrils. "The thunder of the captains and the shouting" delighted his intrepid soul. He was ever eager for the fray, and never lowered his lance in the presence of the enemy. Yet, in moments of peace, he was as gentle as a dove. So strangely were the qualities mixed in him that while his foes dreaded him for his incisive, vitriolic excoriations, his friends loved him for his warm heart and his charming manners. When unchallenged by adverse criticism, or if not roused by opposition to some cherished belief or pet theory, he was the embodiment of elegant courtesy. But when stirred he was dangerous to any who had the temerity to confront him. By one abler than the present writer, Daggett has been called the "Mirabeau of the press." A new character in literature permits the suggestion that he was more : He was the Cyrano de Bergerac of Nevada journalism.

            Joined with Daggett's other qualities was the true poetic sense to which, on occasion, he gave utterance. His Memorial Day poem, beginning

"With leaf and blossom Spring has come again,"

compares favorably with any blank verse that the half-century has provided, and in imagery and musical cadence is in no way inferior to that other splendid Memorial Day tribute by Judge Timothy H. Rearden, "The sea! the sea !" Both are filled with the spirit of the theme and deserve to be bound together, showing that in the sentiment of patriotism and brotherly feeling the western writers are the equals of their eastern contemporaries.

            Denis E. McCarthy was without a peer as an all-round newspaper man. This standing he brought with him to Nevada. He was more editor than writer. His sense of news-value was unerring. His decisions were instantaneous, yet in sizing up the relative importance of current events, or different phases of the prevailing sensation, he was able to put his finger on the point of paramount interest, and he had the mechanical skill of a finished printer, which enabled him to play it up for all it was worth. With the deftness of a trained deskman he would strip a prolix dissertation of redundant verbiage, and with swift, strong strokes,

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putting in a word here and there and cutting out whole paragraphs from a correspondent's long-winded letter, he would quickly produce an article of symmetry and condensed logical sequence, worthy of a place in the columns of Dana's New York Sun. Any thing that he ever read was stamped upon his brain for all time. His mind was like a photographer's plate and retained every impression. He was one of those rare men who seemed never to have found the time to be educated and yet knew everything. Brave as a lion, he was always ready to back up any assertion with his intrepid personality and his Virginia Chronicle was for years one of the leading newspapers of the coast.

            W. J. Forbes.—Who shall speak the fitting words in memory of W. J. Forbes. His own worst enemy, that lamentable fact is invariably brought out by his biographers. Doubtless it serves a useful purpose, and the custom need not be departed from even here among these words of appreciation. But he was bright with the undeniable brightness of unquenchable genius. How else could he have borne himself so well and so long under the self-imposed burden of self-indulgence? Pioneers still laugh about his quips and fancies. Writing under the pen-name of "Semblens," he discoursed on every subject known to man, and his shafts so often hit the mark that he became popular with all classes of readers.

            Forbes simply could not keep out of a printing office. Journalism was his natural element.  Quick at repartee, trained in the use of a rich and variegated vocabulary that contained every known expression of disapprobation, his bitter words often left scars that were slow to heal. After flaying a man and hanging his hide on the fence he would say, "Thus far we have been mild," and would give his victim another basting. Some marks of hatred followed him beyond the bourne, and commenting on this exhibition of malice, a friendly hand penned these words : "The enemies of Forbes seem to take comfort from the report that he was suffering from softening of the brain. There was nothing in his latest work to indicate such a condition. Be that as it may, he was a noble soul, misguided in some respects, mayhap, but he was faulted mostly by persons whom fate had munificently forefended against any such fate as they ascribe to him."

            Forbes declared that he would rather be the possessor of a handful of battered type and a rattletrap press, with a power to say his mind as he pleased, than to be the owner of any other business establishment,

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no matter what the financial returns, and he proved it by deserting a prosperous business to return to an editorial position, from the emoluments of which he was only able to eke out a bare existence.

            It was in White Pine County that he found his newspaper would not pay and remarked editorially that "of twenty men, nineteen patronized the saloon and one the newspaper, and he was going with the crowd."

            He started his saloon and it was probably the only paying business he ever engaged in, but in the midst of his prosperity he sold out and, drifting back to journalism, soon sunk all the profits he had made in the liquor business.

            His witty sallies became quoted all over the United States, and probably the most quoted of all and one that has been credited to many different sources, was his thrust at Governor Nye, who secured the appropriation of $75,000 for the building of a dam and sawmill to manufacture lumber for the Piute Indians, all of which was expended with no tangible results. Forbes said that Governor Nye had "a dam by a mill site, but no mill by a d— site."

            Prior to his advent into Nevada he had been connected with the Coloma Argus, Marysville Herald, Sierra Democrat and Downieville.

            He was first connected with the Humboldt Register and then purchased the Daily Union at Virginia City and changed its name to The Trespass, on the ground that he felt that he was trespassing on a field already occupied.

            In 1873 he started the New Endowment in Salt Lake and threw down the gauntlet to the Mormons. Later on he realized that there was no profit at that time in publishing a Gentile paper in a Mormon community and closed his valedictory with these words :

            "We cease publication because we did not, bring money enough with us."

            Returning to Nevada he started Measure for Measure at Battle Mountain. It was a wonderful paper, but did not pay, and a friend found him on the morning of October 30, 1875, lying stiff and cold across his shabby bed. He had fought a fight against odds all his life, was one of the brightest geniuses the coast had ever seen, but he lacked the faculty of making and saving money and lived in communities where his mental brightness was more envied than appreciated.

            Ten years before, with a prophetic pen, he wrote:

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"Death cannot be a matter of much moment to an editor—no thirty days' notice required by law—it is the local incident of a moment, a few days as advertised on the fourth page, a few calls by subscribers not in arrears. A short, quick breath—then the subscription paper for burial expenses."

            Forbes's final resting place is Coloma, El Dorado County, California, where he lies buried alongside his wife.

            Alf Doten was just placing the neck of the ginger-ale bottle across his thumb, as was his custom when called on to do his own pouring, when all at once his attention was attracted by a sign behind Charley Price's bar. The sign read : "At midnight all drinks in this saloon reduced to ten cents."

            It was a terrible blow to the pride of Gold Hill, for up to that time the camp was able to boast the possession of one two-bit saloon.

            "Thus passeth the glory of the world," exclaimed Doten, forgetting to imbibe the tempting fluid which mantled the goblet.

            "It doesn't seem to me that I can endure this humiliation," said Alf, addressing a faithful companion who was always willing to stand by in such trying times.

            The click showed the time to be 11 :55. In a few minutes the brag of Gold Hill that it was able to support at least one first-class drinking place would be wiped out.

            "I want to have the honor of buying the last two-bit drink in the old town," said Alf. He was asking a favor, but in this instance his companion was obdurate. "Let's shake dice to see who shall have the privilege," was the best he would grant.

            So they rattled the bones and Alf won, greatly to his delight.

            The clock made that premonitory w-h-r-r-ing sound to indicate that the hour was about to be struck.

            "Here's to the departure of Gold Hill's glory and pride," was the toast they proposed, and they drank in silence.

            "Not much use trying to run a nonpareil paper in a long-primer town any longer," said Doten. "I was willing to stick it out as long as there was a living chance, but now that there is nothing but ten-cent shebangs, the old News might as well suspend."

            And it did.

            Alf Doten bore an honorable part in Nevada journalism. He was

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honest, industrious, painstaking, and in matters of news, was generous to a fault. He had a high appreciation of ability and never allowed the other papers to pay more for good work than he did. While he sought to produce a neat and workmanlike sheet, and succeeded admirably, he always recognized the primacy of news in the making of a paper, and did what few proprietors would do these days—that is, cut out column after column of advertisements to make room for good live news. Doten was a Pioneer of Pioneers, and when confidential during some friendly evening of talk, would draw from an inner sanctum of the office an old tin cup, battered and worn, together with a tin plate and knife and fork that had seen much use. The knife and fork were of the primitive three-pronged kind, with wooden handles. But these handles were silver-mounted. Around the upper edge of the old tin cup there was also a band of sterling silver, and the venerable plate had been enriched in the same manner. Probably Rollin M. Daggett had Doten in mind when he wrote that touching poem entitled "My New Year's Guests." It is possible that Daggett had a counterpart of Doten's '49 relics, but if he had he never displayed them. He may have been as devoted to pioneer sentiments as was Doten, but he did not openly show it.

            Joseph T. Goodman for years was a commanding figure in Nevada journalism. He did more to form the high spirit of the press in that region than any other man of the profession. As a writer he is clear, concise, convincing and forceful to the final degree. His temperament led him to the classical form, however, and controversies were never entered upon by him unless enforced by unavoidable conditions. Once in he bore himself so that the contender might well beware of another such contest. Goodman's letters, written from Europe during a tour of the old country, are examples of clear-cut English that deserve to rank with the masterpieces of the language. He has written poems, like so many of the old school of journalists, and in his case many of the productions are real contributions to the literature of the country. He lives quietly at his home in Alameda, California, and remembers with affection the days of old on the Comstock lode.

            One can best voice the sentiment of tender affection with which all the old Comstock crowd regarded Virginia City by reproducing Joe Goodman's poem. It strikes the true chords as no other hand could evoke them from the lyre of memory:

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VIRGINIA CITY.

In youth when I did love, did love

(To quote the sexton's homely ditty),

I lived six thousand feet above

Sea-level, in Virginia City;

The site was bleak, the houses small,

The narrow streets unpaved and slanting,

But now it seems to me of all

The spots on earth the most enchanting.

Let Art with all its cunning strive,

Let Nature lavish all her splendor,

One touch of sentiment will give

A charm more beautiful and tender;

And so that town, howe'er uncouth

To others who have chanced to go there,

Enshrines the ashes of my youth,

And there is Fairyland, or nowhere.

Who tend its marts, who tread its ways,

Are mysteries beyond my guessing;

To me the forms of other days

Are still about its centers pressing:

I know that loving lips are cold,

And true hearts stilled—ah, more the pity!

But in my fancy they yet hold

Their empire in Virginia City.

Unhallowed flames have swept away

The structures in which I delighted,

The streets are grass-grown, and decay

Has left the sunny slopes benighted—

But not for me : to my dimmed sight

The town is always like the olden,

As to the captive Israelite

Shone aye Jerusalem the Golden.

I would not wish to see it now,

I choose to know it as I then did,

With glorious light upon its brow

And all its features bright and splendid;

Nor would I like that it should see

Me, gray and stooped, a mark for pity

And learn that time had dealt with me

As hard as with Virginia City.

            Charles C. Goodwin, journalist, jurist, poet, author, sage,—all these are due to the man whose pen is dipped in sunshine and whose heart contains the quality which turns all experiences to good. That he has been imposed on by thousands of battered wrecks of humanity speaks no worse for him than that his generous nature sometimes yields to the temptation to help the undeserving poor. Perhaps he shares the opinion of Arthur

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McEwen, who was wont to say that of all the people in the world the undeserving poor most need our assistance, as the deserving poor are sure to find somebody who knows them who will succor them in good time.

            Charley Goodwin (that was always his name among his friends, and Charley Goodwin he will ever remain to them) has written some of the most eloquent passages that ever appeared in the Nevada press. His admiration for the pioneers of the country is sincere, for he mixed with these sterling founders of this Commonwealth and knew the worth of the men who carried through the gigantic tasks they were called on to master. It is appropriate that his "Ode to the Pioneers," which was set to music by the late Lieutenant-Governor Charles E. Laughton, and was sung at the banquet given in honor of the pioneers at Carson on the evening of March 1, 1887, should appear here.

Sing to the Pioneers tonight!

Sing to the little band

Who, when with youth each eye was bright

And strong each good right hand,

Commenced with songs their mighty toil

While challenging their fates,

To lay secure in virgin soil

The cornerstones of States.

In every vale, on every hill,

Are graves of Pioneers;

They mark where rugged hearts grew still,

And where, as swept the years,

Worn out at length by toil and care

By hardship too much tried,

They gave the mighty struggle o'er,

Folded their arms and died.

There's but a little remnant left

Of thousands, but a few;

And every year some hearts are cleft,

Some disappear from view.

The hands that from above are reached

To beckon them away,

Exceed the hands that are outstretched

On earth to make them stay.

Then sing we to the dear "Old Boys,"

Soft may their life-streams run;

Soothed be their age with sacred joys,

And when their work is done,

May they with youth renewed awake

Upon a flower-crowned shore,

Where royal hearts shall never break,

And peace reign evermore.

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L'ENVOI.

Sing to the Old Boys—sing to them tonight,

They who on the rude frontier made their gallant fight,

They who in the wilds raised thrones to law and right,

Sing to the Old Boys—sing to them tonight.

            I do not think my statement will be challenged when I say that Charley Goodwin has written more editorial matter in his lifetime than any editor in the United States. For more than half a century his has been a steady output of editorial matter. When in harness he seemed to have no idea of anything but work. He wanted no "days off," cared for no vacations, but kept up the same steady, unfaltering pace. He was a tireless machine. His friends wondered when the pace would falter, when the thoroughbred horse would swerve from his course, but at present writing, with Charley Goodwin past eighty, and his fine head silvered with years, he is still keeping up the same steady stride with his brain as clear as a bell and his splendid work showing no signs of deterioration. To me he seems the marvel of his age and time.

            The following from Goodwin's pen illustrates the tender sentiment that flows through all his writings :

            The Old Column.—At times, as I recall some old name and the characteristics of the man assume distinctive forms before me, it is a joy to make a hasty record of them.

            But today they come in companies, come with the old elastic steps, the old joyous faces, until the air around me is filled with echoes of their voices, and the oldtime laughter, and the air is warmer because of their smiles. For the smiles were lighted from the fires of youth which fires have perfect combustion, leaving no dross' upon the earth, making no taint upon the air.

            Somehow they seemed to be borne up with a belief that while it was true that other generations of men have lived out their span and gone into the silence, it was going to be different with them; that they :had found the long-looked-for Ponce de Leon spring, the waters of which were to restore the waste of nature, the attritions of old age, the assaults of disease; that each night was to bring them undisturbed rest, and that each succeeding morning would find them perfectly restored to hail the day as joyously as the lark and with no more apprehensions of evil.

            At least they lived that way. There was no work that could abash them; no risk they were not ready to assume; no danger that appeared in their path that could daunt them or turn them aside, and when a call came upon their charities, the thought was, "Why should we not respond generously, for have we not unabated strength to create more?"

            When some one, overborne, fell out of the ranks and grew still, that mattered not. The explanation was that he always had been delicate, or that he never had taken any care of himself, or if all the usual explanations failed, it was said that "he was out of luck," and then some primitive philosopher of the company would deliver an address and prove to a demonstration that luck was a force which could no more be fought back than measles or whooping-cough.

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And some near friend would explain that the ancient belief that the Fates watched which thread of life to sever with their scissors was true, and what they did when a man became so much better than his fellows that their reckless ways gave him pain, was to mercifully bring peace to him, and so the death of such a man was not an event to weep over, but rather to chant a farewell joy strophe above to be to him a lullaby for the long sleep.

            When from the outside world learned and accomplished gentlemen came among the band, and meaning to be genial and pleasing to guests talked down to them, it always seemed to me a pity that no voice from the subconscious intellects of those guests could not whisper to them to go slow ; that they did not know their audiences; for who among the learned in books and those who have worn soft raiment all their days can comprehend what it is for thoughtful men to take their post-graduate courses in that great university, the faculty of which is made up of ocean waves that break at the mountains' feet; the winds that, coming up from the sea, make all the mighty pines on the mountain tops the harps on which to set their anthems to music; the desert with its cold and heat, and when it sleeps under its pall of silence—that dreadful silence which is so profound and all-encompassing, as though all nature had died—that the nerves of dumb animals break down under it, and they are stampeded. When to those hunger, and cold, and thirst, and hardships are added as assistants; when these earnest, generous natures feel the pangs as one hope after another dies in their souls, can the mere book scholar, give such men any instruction to much interest them?

            When a great calm for a long time spreads its winding sheet about a portion of the earth, when the sun beats down until the world and the air become fetid; then suddenly the elements arouse themselves and call up a cyclone or a hurricane to clear the air, which in its track leaves a trail covered with the wreck of forests and homes and sometimes dead men and animals. But the air is purified. Men who live close to nature take on some of its moods.

            What wonder, then, if sometimes sections of this old band would suddenly arouse themselves and paint things crimson, give up to excesses and perpetrate episodes not to be approved of by any Sunday school society in the world?

            It was a way they had to clear the atmosphere.

            But let no one wonder if some of the native sons of California and Nevada are a little spoiled. It was the old band that did it.

            And do not blame the old band. They felt one hope after another die in their souls, and bore it without plaint. They knew that their youth was about to fall off the trail, and if the knowledge brought any sorrow to them they hid it in their own hearts, but every morning as they rose from their rude couches they felt the little fingers that were not to be tugging at their garments, and what wonders that when they came upon children they spoiled them?

            What deeds of valor they performed! What noiseless charities they bestowed! What self abnegation attended their lives! What splendid industrial triumphs they wrought when they were obliged to adjust ends to means, and from the impossible to wring victory!

            There was no place in their ranks for braggarts or pretenders; they had to be shown, with a swift intuition they separated gold from dross and the seal of their approval was equivalent to a certified check.

            They were not all angels, but in their hospitality they assumed every time that they were entertaining angels, and had a real angel come he, at least, would have known that he was getting the best that his host could provide.

            For me that procession began its march threescore years ago.

            I watched it changing year by year, watched it as one and another fell from the ranks, watched it until the radiant column shrunk to a straggling band, and for a long time now have only at long intervals heard a footfall.

            But today, looking down the long aisles of memory, the mists are all cleared

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away from above the trail, and that procession is again in view—the splendor of the beginning, the flags, the trumpets, the joyous songs; the springy, exultant steps, their path bathed in sunlight and ablaze with hope; the march through the hot noonday, no wearying, no rest; then the long afternoon march and the bivouac under the stars—all the music grown still and the night wind sweeping up from the depths of the desert becoming a requiem.

            But through the silence there come whispers of a land beyond the sundown; another land of golden mountains, clear streams, fair fields and sunlit fields, filled with the love songs of bright-plumaged birds! where the dawns, the sunsets and the light of the stars are all merged in the greater splendor of the eternal day!

            Jim Townsend.—This unique specimen was by all odds the most original writer and versatile liar that this coast, or any other coast, ever produced. He began his journalistic career in Mono County with the Mono Index and wound it up in Carson City, where so many newspapers lie buried. He kept the coast laughing for years with quaint sayings that he set up as from the case they came into his mind. They never saw manuscript. He simply set the type when he felt like expressing an idea and worried himself almost to death because he could not set the type as fast as he could think.

            To read his paper you would think it was published in a city of ten thousand inhabitants. He had a Mayor and City Council, whose proceedings he reported once a week, although they never existed, and enlivened his columns with killings, law suits, murder trials and railroad accidents and a thousand and one incidents of daily life in a humming growing town, every last one of which he coined out of his own active brain.

            One of the most exciting things with which he kept churning up his readers was a shooting scrape and scandal and divorce proceedings arising from a scandal in which the Mayor's wife and a member of the city council figured. It dragged along through his columns for nearly six months. It was very interesting to read and implicitly believed—except by persons who knew that there was no mayor and no council at that time in the town where Jim's paper was published.

            He was called "Lying Jim Townsend" to the day of his death and could he have had his way it would have been graven on his tombstone.

            Sam Davis.—The writer of this chronicle is conscious that he must be most circumspect and modest in his language while treating the subject here indicated. In the first place he is the editor of this book, and would take the liberty of cutting out anything that was unduly complimentary. Then, again, if attempt were made to reproduce faithfully some of the

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high lights of his early Comstock life the power of excision might also be exercised.

            Not many of Davis' acquaintances know that he, like Tom Fitch, is a better speaker than writer, but such is the case. This was particularly emphasized at the time of the banquet in honor of the pioneers, of which mention has been made. Although the most eloquent men of the State were present and taking part in the event, his speech was by all acknowledged to be the hit of the evening.

            On the occasion of the introduction of electric power on the Comstock, the committee in charge of the banquet took pains to send for one of the most eloquent speakers in San Francisco to do the word-painting. Davis was not down on the list of speakers, but was called on for a talk and when he had finished his poetic and eloquent tribute to "the universal agent" the audience realized that Sam had delivered the only speech worth reproducing in print, and which since has been republished as a masterpiece of word-painting in nearly every portion of the Union. The San Francisco orator was the first man to reach Sam with outstretched hand of congratulation.

            Davis married the widow of Harry Mighels and for years conducted the Appeal. During his editorship the paper was copied all over the Union. It became a powerful factor in politics and was the first paper in the State to call for a silver party.

            Davis was elected State Controller for two terms, but was beaten in the last election by a Republican. During his term of office he did something that will cause the insurance world to remember him for the next half century. He threw the New York Life Insurance Company out of Nevada because its president, John McCall, contributed a quarter of a million of stockholders' money to the Republican campaign fund. He wired a demand for McCall's resignation and a restoration of the money before the company could do business in Nevada.

            The company treated it as a joke, but finally asked that Davis come to New York and give the company a certificate of solvency, as his order had impaired their credit in Europe. The Governor ordered Davis east and when he called at the office he was taken out to lunch for a starter before they got down to business. The palace where Davis lunched was full of splendor and luxury and he was handed a carte blanche to eat there with his friends while he stayed in New York.

478      THE HISTORY OF NEVADA

            He declined the proffered hospitality and stated that his mission in New York was not to inspect the cafes of the insurance companies but to look into the management of the business department. He stuck to his original proposition that McCall must resign, pay back the quarter of a million of stockholders' money donated to the McKinley campaign fund and adopt a resolution by the board of directors forever taking the big insurance company out of politics. Before the first of January every demand made by the Insurance Commission of Nevada was complied with.

            Later on, when, after the San Francisco fire, a number of insurance companies were wavering on the line between meeting their just obligations or welching, Davis issued an ultimatum that any company welching in San Francisco could not do business in Nevada. It forced over thirty companies in line, and insurance men who are in a position to know, say that this order, made just in the nick of time, saved the property owners of San Francisco over seven millions of dollars.

            Colonel Henry G. Shaw.—The coming of the late Henry G. Shaw to the Comstock was a notable acquisition to the ranks of Nevada journalism. He was filled with the ideals and the acquirements of metropolitan journalism, having served on the best eastern papers. In political discussions he marshaled his statistics effectively, and helped to win every fight in which he was engaged. A facile writer and a polished gentleman he inspired all with whom he came in contact with a desire for maintaining the best traditions of the profession. He was editor of the Enterprise for some time, and subsequently entered the government service in San Francisco.

            C. C. Powning was a prominent figure in the newspaper world of the sagebrush country for many years. Beginning as a printer's apprentice he grew up in the business and by hard knocks and perseverance acquired valuable property in the Nevada State Journal at Reno. His untimely death cut short a career that had much promise.

            Robert L. Fulton was that rare combination so seldom seen in a printing office, namely, a writer of ability and a financier of still greater ability. Everything he touched sprouted gold, and, finding that running a newspaper was not necessary to his permanent success, he abandoned the profession, but still has a hankering for the aroma of printer's ink and roller composition.

            Major John Dennis made a widely known paper out of the Tuscarora

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Times Review. He was a trenchant, fearless writer and possessed of a vitriolic and witty pen that made him a terror to his contemporaries.

            He was a natural politician and for several sessions represented Lander County in the upper house of the State Legislature. His speeches were of the fiery, sledgehammer order and he could hold his own in debate with any one he ever met in the Senate.

            In his leisure moments he would concoct hoaxes that would go the rounds. One of the most conspicuous was his fictitious account of a "Luminous Shrub" that grew near Tuscarora. It was discussed all over the Union, and several eastern botanists came to Nevada to investigate it.

            During the closing years of his stormy and eventful life he was the editor-in-chief of the Reno Journal.

            Some rather good stories are told of Dennis. He once entered into a conspiracy with a friend of his to get a political bet out of a capitalist who had the reputation of being rather close. The capitalist was quite willing to bet a hundred on his presidential candidate, but Dennis and his friend figured that if they threw a little champagne into the transaction he might bet more. They spent in the neighborhood of fifty dollars in convivial intercourse with their man and he became sufficiently mellow to wager a straight thousand dollars. When the "Ides of November" came 'round the capitalist won the bet. Dennis said he didn't mind the thousand dollars particularly, but he thought the fifty they spent was money thrown away.

            On another occasion he had a row with a man on the street. His opponent was locked up on a charge of disturbing the peace and using vulgar language, and Dennis, going to jail, put up his bail-money, forty dollars, for the satisfaction of getting him out where he could lick him. He secured his enemy's liberation and as an aftermath got soundly thrashed himself. Next morning in the justice court the victor failed to show up and his bail was declared forfeited.

            Conrad Wiegand.—No review of early journalism in Nevada would be complete without mention of Conrad Wiegand, the most peculiar man who ever tramped the trails through the sagebrush. An assayer by profession, he was a deep student of the question of metals as a medium of exchange and wrote voluminously on the subject. But it was as editor of a paper that his eccentricities became apparent. He was beaten by a politician whom he criticised and so completely was his gentle spirit

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under control that he found it possible to obey the injunction to forgive his enemies. Most any other editor would have had recourse to a six-shooter.

            Fred H. Hart.—When Fred Hart wrote his book called "The Sazarac Lying Club," taking the name from a popular brand of brandy, he was in the prime of his fun-making. He wrote for papers in the eastern part of the State for many years and at one time was editor of the Virginia City Enterprise.

            H. P. Cohen.—There was a pleasure in listening to the queer remarks of Henry P. Cohen, for many years bookkeeper for the Enterprise, who usually wrote the theatrical criticisms. He was talking about a prominent man who was declared by one of his companions to be anything but wise. "Judge Blank's mind is a howling wilderness," said his friend. "Worse than that," amended Cohen ; "his mind is a regular Death Valley. If an idea ever got in there it would perish of loneliness."

            Edward W. Townsend.—Edward W. Townsend, afterward the world-known author of "Chimmey Fadden" and writer of the Major Max papers in the New York Sun, had his first newspaper detail on the Gold Hill News. It was an assignment to go down the road and meet a party of about twenty officers and prisoners who were driving from Carson, the officers having in custody the famous Chinese murderer, Ah Chouey, who, while on his way to the State Prison had bribed another Chinaman to take his place. Together with the Chinese were a couple of deputy sheriffs and a lawyer, who were supposed to have connived at the substitution, but the accusation was never established. Townsend interviewed all the parties, wrote a graphic account of the affair, and got it in in time for the evening issue of the News, beating all rivals. This gave him a good start, and he never stopped. At present he is a member of Congress from New Jersey.

            Notables in Journalism.—L. R. Bradley (usually called "Old Broad-horns," and afterwards was Governor of the State), was the owner of several newspapers in the eastern part of Nevada, although he never ascended the tripod or personally attempted to run the literary part of an office. His functions appeared to be confined to providing money to meet the payroll.

            Thomas Fitch was part owner and editor of several papers, but made

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a greater success as a speaker. With a pen in his hand he appeared to be uninspired, but on the hustings he had no equal.

            C. C. Stevenson, also elected Governor, was at different times owner of the Virginia Chronicle and the Gold Hill News.

            A. C. Ellis started a Democratic paper in Carson that lasted three months. Ellis was a fine lawyer, but the types were not suitable for his method of composition.

            John W. Mackay and James G. Fair were owners of the Virginia Enterprise, buying it from William Sharon, and afterwards selling it to D. O. Mills and H. M. Yerington of the Virginia Truckee Railroad.

            John C. Fall and John H. Kinkead (the latter served a term as Governor) were connected by family ties in some way, and held shares in a newspaper at Winnemucca. They didn't get rich at the business, though both were prominent in the affairs of the State.

            Senator William M. Stewart, the man of the most tremendous energy of any who ever lived on the Pacific Coast, owned interests in a number of newspapers in Nevada, which ownership generally held merely through the political campaigns in which he was a candidate.

            Nevada had the distinction of numbering among its pioneer journalists John K. Lovejoy, who was a member of the well-known Lovejoy family of Illinois, the great abolitionists, one of whom, Owen Lovejoy, was killed at Alton, Illinois, because of his Free Soil sentiments.

            On the roster of men whose newspaper work is remembered in Nevada, one calls to mind W. Frank Stewart, Philip Lynch, E. D. Kelly, Edward Colnon (who afterwards went to California and founded the Stockton Mail), John F. Alexander, Fred E. Canfield, C. A. V. Putnam, Adair Wilson, Robert Ferrall, C. A. Sumner, Fred Hart, Clement C. Rice (dubbed by Mark Twain "the Unreliable"), J. F. Halloran, Orlando E. Jones (who, when a clown in a circus, was known as Dan Conover), J. J. Hill, John Church, W. W. Barnes, John A. Mahaney, Robert E. Lowery, Pat Holland, Robert L. Tilden, John I. Ginn, Harry Norton, C. H. Stoddard, J. W. Plant, M. S. Bonnifield, E. A. Littlefield, L. B. Littlefield, Andrew Cassamayou, Andrew Maute (afterwards superintendent of the United States Mint at Carson), R. R. and E. J. Parkinson, Myron and Eugene Angell, Frank A. Kenyon, Mark W. Musgrove, Israel Crawford. Henry H. Watts, John M. Campbell, Robert McBeth, D. M. Brannan, J. C. Ragsdale, C. L. Perkins, M. H. Hogan, C. C. Emerson, George Marshall,

482      THE HISTORY OF NEVADA

F. P. Dallum, George Phelps, Richard Wheeler, E. A. Scott, Peter Meyers, Geo. M. Smith, H. C. Street, W. H. H. Fellows, C. C. Wright, T. I. Butler, J. C. Law, J. G. McClinton, Robert Glenn, J. C. Davis, L. C. Branson, W. W. Ross, Josiah C. Harlow, Geo. G. Lyon, W. B. Taylor, J. W. McKinnon, Frank Blake, Chas. S. Sprague, W. H. Pitchford, John Craise, J. J. Ayers, F. E. Fisk, M. D. Fairchild, A. Skillman, H. B. Loomis, Edwin A. Sherman, R. W. Simpson, O. D. Fairchild, A. C. Pratt, Phillip Triplett, Harry Fontecilla, H. Z. Osborn, E. R. Cleveland, W. H. Virden, Samuel Donald, Alf Chartz, W. W. Austin, W. F. Boardman (known as "Salty," the Pony Express rider), A. T. Hawley, Edward Niles, W. C. Phillips, Richard Rule, A. J. McCarthy, John L. Considine, T. E. Picotte, Arthur Dunn, B. J. Burns, H. C. Bennett, L. C. McKinney, D. E. A. Williamson (a grandson of Uncle George Bromley of the San Francisco Bohemian Club), Boynton Carlisle, J. H. Cradlebaugh, George M. Smith, George C. Berry, T. I. Butler, Oscar Morgan, R. E. Draper (who fought a duel with Dr. W. H. Richardson and received some buckshot in his foot from a double-barreled gun), C. A. Brier, F. Elliott, L. C. McKinney, R. D. Bogart, H. Warren, J. C. Dow, J. E. James, T. L. Ham, E. Armond, A. P. Church, James Conley, J. H. Huling, Richard A. James, V. B. DeLashmutt, G. W. Derickson (who was killed in Washoe City), Joseph Ekley, H. DeGroot, D. R. Sessions, Samuel Donald, W. W. Hobert, L. P. Ward, C. S. Preble, C. S. Young, C. H. Sprouls, Allen G. Bragg, John M. Dormer, H. F. Baker, W. W. Booher, H. A. McCraney, Allen Kelly, the Booth brothers, J. A. and W. W., John L. Considine, S. A. Glessner, the Bingham brothers, Ernest and Edwin.

            New Generation.—Among the newer generation may be mentioned Sam J. Dunham, who has reported everything in the way of news from San Diego to Alaska, and whose Klondike verses are too good to be forgotten. He touches the true note when he mentions that cold as was the climate in the frozen north it was not so cold as was the reception he received in Washington when they found he brought no gold.

            Charles E. Michelson, who was born in Virginia City, and who comes of a family noted for brain-power, is managing editor for one of the big Hearst papers in New York. He has the much-to-be-desired ability to write an editorial with "a punch," as the boys on Newspaper Row phrase it.

            Harry Bishop, Frederick W. Bishop and Charles P. Bishop, sons of

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Dr. S. Bishop, of Reno and Eureka, all engaged in newspaper work after leaving Nevada. The first-named is manager of the Oakland Enquirer, the others having drifted to other vocations.

            The late Philip Verrill Mighels, probably the most brilliant creative genius of the younger set, was a voluminous writer, contributing to almost every branch of literature. It was as a novelist that he won the greatest applause, his works "Out of a Silver Flute," "Bruvver Jim's Baby," and other works gaining acceptance on both sides of the "big pond."

            Robert H. Davis, editor of all the Munsey magazines, served his apprenticeship in Carson and San Francisco, and has risen to his present commanding position in the world of letters by ability and hard work.

            First Newspaper in Nevada.—The first newspaper printed in Nevada was the Territorial Enterprise, which was started at Genoa, Douglas County, November 18, 1858, by Alfred James and W. L. Jernegan. The Enterprise office was moved to Carson in November, 1859, and in November, 1860, Jonathan Williams and I. B. Wollard became its owners and took the plant to Virginia City.

            First Daily Paper in Nevada.—The first daily newspaper established in Nevada was the Silver Age, owned and edited by John C. Lewis. The Silver Age was started the same month that the Enterprise moved from Carson to Virginia City, November, 1860. It suffered many trials and finally fell into the hands of L. R. Bradley, who subsequently was known as "Old Broadhorns," and making that title popular was elected Governor of the State.

            Blue-Penciling Seldom Known.—The papers had little use for managing editors and copy-readers in those days. Every reporter wrote what he pleased and hung the copy on the "hook." The printer set it as written, and it went through that way. But the man who wrote an article was personally responsible for the statements and sentiments it contained. If a person who was criticised didn't like an item he could always find out who wrote it by asking at the editorial rooms, and the author was supposed to back it up or back down, as the case might be. In any event, nobody else was called on to fight his battles. That led to carefulness in composition, for when a man knows that if he makes a statement that he may be called on to defend his position with a six-shooter, he usually considers his ground with all the circumspection at his command. As explained in the life of Mark Twain, recently written by Mr. Paine in

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Harper's Magazine, the first instruction given by Joseph T. Goodman to a reporter was never to write, "It is reported," or "We are informed," or anything like that, but to find out the facts and then give them as actual happenings. That was one good reason for the infrequency of retractions in the Nevada newspapers. It didn't pay to make mistakes in a country where every man was his own judge as to whether his dignity had been offended.

            Cleverly Chosen Names.—Some of the names chosen for newspapers were striking and apt. In the realm of journalistic nomenclature W. J. Forbes was easily first, because he had many chances to show his skill, but John M. Dormer, who named only one paper, ran a good second. In Eureka the Forbes paper was called The Cupel, which name had a significance understood by everybody in the community. Eureka was a camp in which all the ores required smelting, and in order to make a test the assayer was compelled to make use of the cupel, a little receptacle of bone-ash in which the precious metals, mixed with the base metals, were placed and subjected to a high degree of heat. The cupel absorbed or eliminated the base metals, leaving on top a shining button of pure gold and silver, ready for weighing and showing accurately the value of the ore. It would be difficult to select a name more appropriate for a true newspaper—one that fills the requirements of the profession, which is in honor bound to show forth the precious metals of truth and justice and to cast away the baser admixtures of prejudice, bias and misrepresentation. When Forbes moved to Virginia City and invaded a field already occupied, he candidly recognized that he was not attempting to fill a long-felt want, and with grim humor styled his paper The Trespass. At Battle Mountain he had another little sheet which he called The Measure for Measure, referring to the Biblical principle, that as you measure, so shall it be measured to you again, and besides he recalled that Shakespeare had used the expression and that was sufficient authority for him.

            John M. Dormer made a happy stroke in naming his Candelaria paper The True Fissure. This paper also was in a mining camp, and the name was intended to convey the thought that the Northern Belle, the Lucky B and the other mines of Candelaria and Pick Handle Gulch were in fact located on a true fissure-vein, which was the hope of every camp in Nevada which aspired to rival the Comstock lode.

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            The Inland Empire was the imposing name of an ambitious journal which was started in Hamilton, White Pine County, in 1869. The New Endowment was another odd title, and The Old Pah-Ute (first called The Old Pah-Utah) harked back to the aboriginal days of the country. The paper had an honorable and useful career.

            A Spectral Newspaper.—The queerest of all the names chosen for newspapers in Nevada was possibly that of the Waubuska Mangler. The paper was supposed to have been published in Waubuska, in Lyon County, but as a matter of fact, it never had any existence outside the Carson Appeal office. There was never any paper published at Waubuska, but the Appeal manufactured one and located it there. For some years the Appeal pretended to reprint savage editorials credited to the Mangler, whose editor it frequently took to task as "a disgrace to journalism."

            `The controversies between the Mangler and its contemporaries were continued for years and with such a show of plausibility that many people to this day still regard the Waubuska Mangler as one of the liveliest sheets ever published in the State.

            When the Appeal got tired of keeping the fictitious newspaper before the public it announced that the editor, on account of ill health, had closed up his office and gone east. It republished a valedictory containing these statements and supplemented it with a story that the publisher had really slid out between days to avoid a grand jury indictment.  Nothing more was heard of the Mangler after that and the real cause of its suspension is still a matter of speculation with many people.

            The Appeal is the oldest continuous paper published in the State. The Appeal was started in November, 1864, by McElwain, Barrett and Robinson. Its politics was Republican. About a year later Barrett sold his interest to Henry R. Mighels. In December, 1870, C. L. Perkins and H. C. Street purchased the establishment and changed its name to the Register. In February, 1872, John Booth became proprietor. In September of the same year H. R. Mighels returned to Carson, purchased the Register and changed its name to the New Daily Appeal.

            The paper at once became Republican. In January, 1874, the name was changed to the Carson Daily Appeal.

            In 1876 it was changed again to the Morning Appeal. January 1, 1878, H. R. Mighels became sole proprietor. His editorials were regarded as the ablest of any writer on the coast and the paper was widely quoted.

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Mr. Mighels died in Carson City, in the spring of 1879, leaving his widow to run the paper. In August, S. H. Fulton took charge as editor until relieved of the duties by S. P. Davis, who came from Virginia City to take charge of the paper in November.

            He married Mrs. Mighels in the following July and conducted the paper until his election to the Controllership of the State in 1898. The Appeal was then leased to H. R. Mighels, a son of its former proprietor, and soon changed into an evening paper. Afterwards Smith and Green took the lease and they were succeeded by Irwin Lewis, who ran it two years and subleased it to L. D. Roberts. After his election to Congress it was leased to James Green, who runs it at the present writing. The Appeal was the first paper in Nevada to advocate the formation of a silver party. It is now Democratic in politics.

            The Carson City News, a four-page, six-column daily—Monday excepted—Republican in politics, was started on the 21st day of June, 1891, by Edwin F. Dupuis. Dupuis ran the paper for about a year, when it became the property of Miss Annie Martin, who was its owner and editor until the Silver Party gained control in the State of Nevada and the lady sold the paper, in 1895, to Dunn and Lemmon. The paper was run by these gentlemen until the great rush into the Tonopah section, when the Nevada Press Company was formed by them and the paper became part of the Press Company holding. Dunn and Lemmon retired from the active editorship of the paper and their place was taken by Walter McClure Gottwaldt. After several years the Press Company thought it best to lease the paper and it became, under lease, the property of George L. Sanford, a young newspaper-man and attorney, who for a number of years ran the paper and took it to a high standard. In 1908, the Nevada Press Company moved to Reno and the paper was leased to Geo. A. Montrose, a newspaper man who had been engaged in the business in California. Mr. Montrose took his sister, Miss Myrtle Montrose, in as a full partner, and the two edited the paper until the marriage of Miss Montrose to George M. Anderson, in June, 1912, when Mr. Anderson became a partner in the business, the firm name being Montrose & Anderson.

            The paper is a newsy up-to-date sheet, covering the news of the section in a most thorough manner. The editorial column is a feature of the

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paper where the pertinent questions of the day and section are handled in fearless manner.

            Churchill County Eagle.—D. E. Williams, editor and publisher, was born in Cottonwood Falls, Kansas, December 28. 1860. With his parents and the family he crossed the plains by team in 1880, passing through Churchill County, but locating further up the Carson River in Carson Valley. Leaving the farm the following year he entered the office of the Genoa Courier to learn the trade of printer, later being employed on the Carson Daily Index, where he became foreman. On the 12th of September, 1884, he took charge of the Genoa Courier under a lease, purchasing the controlling interest the first of the following year, and later becoming sole owner. With the exception of a short intermission, he was publisher of this paper for the succeeding twelve years. Following this, he purchased an interest in the San Jose Daily Herald, in San Jose, Cal., with which he was connected for six years.

            During the summer of 1900 he served as editor and manager of the Daily Courier at Winfield, Kansas, his old home town, while on a visit to that place. From there he went to Ohio, leasing the Waynesfield Chronicle, with which he was connected about four years. However, he always considered Nevada his home, and in 1906 returned to the Sagebrush State, for a time editing the Elko Daily Free Press, from which place he went to Fallon to engage in the newspaper business. The Eagle was established by A. P. Bettersworth and C. J. Leonesio on October 6, 1906—four years after the county seat was moved to Fallon—and on the following September was purchased by Mr. Williams, who has ever since been editor and publisher. On April 18, 1908, Mr. Williams was married to Miss Neva Gustin, of Dayton. Ohio, who has since been a co-worker with him in the publication of the paper.    With the exception of one year, the Eagle has always been an official paper of Churchill County, and ever since the city of Fallon was organized has been an official paper of the city, ever striving to uplift and upbuild the promising community in which it is published.

            The Churchill County Standard was the first paper published in Churchill County, being issued in 1903 by Leslie Smaill, who, a couple of years later, sold the plant to W. C. Black, who has since published the paper, with the exception of the year 1909, when it was sold to A. B. Bettersworth, who in turn disposed of it to Lee & Kinnear. Early in

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1910 the Standard again became the property of W. C. Black. It was the first paper in Churchill County to introduce the linotype machine.

            The Ely Record was established on March 4, 1905, as the Mining Record. The name was later changed to the Ely Mining Record, and in January, 1908, the word "mining" was dropped from the title on account of objections raised by the Daily Mining Record, of Denver, Colo. It was founded by J. D. Crossette.

            In July, 1906, the paper was sold to the Ely Publishing Company, a corporation formed by a number of Ely business men, and Wm. B. Root was placed in charge.

            In March, 1907, control of the Record was purchased by W. A. Leonard, formerly editor of The Copper Era, of Clifton, Arizona, and N. H. Chapin, formerly of Morenci, Arizona, who have since conducted the affairs of the paper. The Record has always made a specialty of mining news and its articles in regard to developments in the great copper mines in the Ely district have been widely copied throughout the country. The paper has conducted an active campaign for lower railroad rates for the Ely district and may fairly lay a claim to part of the credit for reductions in freight and passenger charges and improvements in the service which have been made from time to time.

            The Ely Mining Expositor was established by Denver S. Dickerson in the fall of 1906 and during the copper boom in Ely. The first issue of the weekly appeared October 1, 1906. It was printed on an old Washington hand press and the first office was in Mr. Dickerson's residence, while awaiting the receipt of a Cottrell press, linotype and other equipment. When that had been installed publication of the daily began in May, 1907, and has continued regularly ever since.

            Mr. Dickerson was the first editor and then secured the services of Col. James W. Connella, who remained with the paper until the Rawhide boom in 1908. For the period of more than a year the paper was leased to L. G. Schwalenberg and H. C. Reilly. George A. Flannigan was editor for a few months and was succeeded by John M. Haley. In the fall of 1912 control of the paper was sold to M. V. Cox of California, and has been continued, as in previous years, as a straight Democratic paper in State and National affairs.

            The Elko Free Press was established January I, 1883, by Chas. H. Sproule, and issued as a weekly paper. Mr. Sproule

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brought the plant here from Battle Mountain, where he had been in charge of the Battle Mountain Free Press, which was discontinued during the preceding fall. The paper was under his charge for twenty-one years, and during that time not an issue was missed. Ill health compelled him to seek an extended vacation, and a corporation was formed by the business men of the town, who took over the weekly paper, and on September 10, 1904, it was made a daily, with George B. Russell in charge as editor and manager. The weekly edition was continued as part of the publication. On December 1, 1908, Mr. Russell, having been elected to the Legislature from Elko county, resigned, and E. J. Clark was put in charge and remained with the Free Press until November of 1910 when he was succeeded by the present editor, E. M. Steninger. It has been the recognized Republican organ of the county, and, in fact, of the eastern part of the state, and is progressive in its ideas. The company is incorporated under the laws of the state of Nevada for S10,000.

            The Elko Independent, started by E. D. Kelley and Judge George B. Berry, in October, 1868, was the pioneer paper of Elko County. Charles L. Perkins, elected State Printer in 1870, was subsequently connected with its ownership, also H. C. Street, W. B. Taylor and others. In the middle '70s it was run as a daily and it was being run as a live Nevada daily, with W. W. Booher editor and proprietor, until February, 1913, when W. J. McNeil became editor and publisher. It is a progressive Democratic paper and is winning fame as one of Nevada's wide-awake newspapers. W. A. Loughlin is associate editor and his well-known ability as a writer is adding new laurels to the Independent.

            The Humboldt Star was established as a weekly on January 11, 1906, by R. E. L. Windle and G. M. Rose, both for many years connected with the Silver State, of this place, and the former having been also one of the owners of Goldfield's first paper, the News, during the first year of its existence. In June, 1906, the Star was made a semi-weekly and a year later a tri-weekly, A. L. Crackett, also one of the former employes of the Silver State, having in the meantime become associated with Messrs. Windle and Rose in the ownership of the paper. The Star has had a steady and prosperous growth and has one of the best equipped offices in the State. All of its present owners were employes on the Silver State during the time it was owned by the veteran journalist, the

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late E. D. Kelley, and during the later ownership of the paper by the late Senator Nixon.

            The Goldfield News was born on April 29, 1904, and the first number was received with such an ovation from the enthusiastic boomers that the publisher, James F. O'Brien, never forgave himself for his shortsightedness in printing only 1,500 copies of the initial number. But his equipment was taxed to do even that much, for each copy of the diminutive five-column folio had to be handled four times before it was ready for delivery to the reader. The printing was accomplished on a marvel of blacksmithing ingenuity which had devised a press from a lot of junk which had been grouped together by a masterly artisan and fashioned from a quantity of discarded material.

            After the issuance of the News, the publisher spent the greater part of the ensuing twenty-four hours in buying back copies at two bits a copy and selling them over again for a dollar a copy to eager buyers who wished to advise their friends at home that Goldfield was a camp of substance and pride. From that day to the day when he disposed of his plant for a sum ranging away up into the five figures, Mr. O'Brien always made money.

            In the meantime hard days had fallen to the lot of Tonopah and the men of the silver camp cast covetous eyes toward the south where they knew marvelous strikes of high-grade gold ore were being made almost daily on the surface. T. D. Vandervort, of the Tonopah Miner, concluded he could do better in the new camp and accordingly sold his interest and transferred himself and the makings of a printing office to Goldfield. He located in the town of Columbia, which was the legitimate site for the hub of the district, and there started the Columbia Review. The Review remained true to its allegiance and kept the name of Columbia floating proudly from the masthead for two years longer, when the owners yielded to the pressure of circumstances and moved into the heart of the then rapidly expanding Goldfield, after erecting a $50,000 brick building for the accommodation of the plant, which had grown from a solitary jobber to an immense plant which had no peer in Nevada.

            John C. Martin organized the Tribune Printing Company and began the publication of an up-to-date and progressive newspaper that was equal to the growing importance of the camp. Owing to the odium

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attached to the Sun, it was decided to change the name of the new concern to the Daily Tribune, and thus it was put forth and continued to this day as the sole survivor of the score of newspaper ventures in southern Nevada. At one time the Tribune was supplying 3,500 readers in Goldfield and vicinity and half as many more through the mails. The demand from all over the country for authentic news of the mines could not be supplied by the slow process of a weekly and thousands paid their $12 per annum for the sole purpose of watching developments of companies owning stocks in which they were interested. On the job department the men could not keep up with orders and enormous bonuses were paid by promoters whose chief, if not only desire, was to reach the eye of the public before rivals. Under such circumstances it is not incredible to know that fabulous prices were paid for printing. Even then the demand was so far in excess of the capacities of the newspaper plants in Goldfield that it was estimated that job work worth $1 00,000 a month was sent out to Carson City and Reno firms: Carson City was one of the principal beneficiaries and the service from that point was so excellent that several promoters had all their work done in the shadow of the Nevada capitol and distributed from the Carson postoffice.

            The phenomenal record achieved by the Tribune induced Horace Dunn, Harry Allen and Thomas F. Barnes to launch an afternoon paper known as the Chronicle, on a cooperative basis. Politics played an important part in the venture and during the ensuing campaign the Chronicle made large additions to its bank account. A consolidation with the Columbia Review was broached during the Newlands-Nixon campaign of 1908 and the merger was carried into effect. The Review had continued as a weekly newspaper, paying special attention to the mining field in competition with the Goldfield News, and had enjoyed as great prosperity as any of the other papers in the desert. Vandervort realized at last the fallacy of sticking to Columbia, which had dwindled to a few hundred people, and had invested some $35,000 of his earnings in a model brick newspaper publishing plant which was heralded as the most complete institution of the kind in the west, outside of San Francisco. Before the building was completed the slump came, a shutdown was ordered by the Mine Owners' Association and the collapse caught the leading spirits of the camp illy prepared for the revulsion which could not be forestalled. The Chronicle and Review tied up to economize and the News continued

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to be favored with sunny sailing, owing to the fortunes of its owners, Messrs. Loftus and Davis. The faith of the latter in the future of the district continued unabated and it was not until they contemplated a steadily diminishing subscription list among eastern supporters that they discovered the necessity of shortening sail. Accordingly a contract was entered into between Loftus & Davis and C. S. Sprague, whereby the latter agreed to take over the entire equipment and assume full responsibility for the paper. This left Sprague the virtual owner and moulder of policies, with a building costing $100,000 on his hands to remind him of the waning glories of a mining camp. The Chronicle-Review Publishing Company encountered trials and tribulations arising from maturing obligations which the John S. Cook Bank insisted on collecting and one fine afternoon the sheriff stepped in and the Chronicle did not issue that evening. An attempt to appear the following afternoon eventuated in a handbill four by eight detailing the financial woes of the journalists who could not satisfy the bank of their ability to continue payments and that was the last of the hybrid twins. The staff scattered to the four corners of the universe and the field was left to the Tribune and News. The former was inveigled into acquiring the abandoned Review plant, building and all, including its debts and obligations, and then its troubles began. From boasting of freedom from indebtedness and an independence which none of the other newspapers could claim, the Tribune went down through inside machinations.   Through duplicity and misrepresentation two of the stockholders approved the suggestion of enlargement and thus the deal went through. This sounded the death knell of the Tribune as an independent newspaper, for it was only a short time before it was numbered with the satellites of interests that found it necessary to have an organ to shape the course of public affairs. During these doings which overlapped one another with the rapidity of the kaleidoscope, Sprague thought he saw the handwriting on the wall which presaged his survival as the last of the Mohicans, for, with scarcely a thought, he plunged into the daily field, explaining in his editorial columns he was taking snap judgment on his patrons by entering the new field before the stars were shining in the right corner of the firmament, but he hoped to make good if his readers indulged him for a few days. The departure was a move in the wrong direction and after a tempestuous career he reluctantly retired, leasing the News building and its entire machinery to the Tribune. The

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latter seized the opportunity to withdraw from the morning field and take up twilight journalism.

            In the spring of 1912, when the first bleatings of politics were heard in the vernal valleys where statesmen browse their expiring terms away, Goldfield Democrats bolted from the irksome collar of the Republican Tribune and declared they had to have a party organ. They established the Weekly Post, captained by such talent as P. J. Carney, Louis K. Koontz, John Kunz and Dr. J. J. McCarthy. The cards had to be redistributed for another deal when less than a month after filling a long felt want the amateur editors found they were temperamentally unfit for the strenuous life of newspaper men and sold out to a couple of Southern gentlemen who had not much more experience in the life, and at last accounts the Post was in the field still, with periodical promise of developing into a daily publication.

            The Goldfield Sun was established as a morning daily February 1, 1905, Lindley C. Branson having been editor and proprietor. It was issued first for two months at the office of the Tonopah Sun, in Tonopah, and the papers sent to Goldfield by automobile. These were the first autos in the desert country. A newspaper staff and an office were maintained at Goldfield. When, in the latter part of March, a linotype arrived, the third one in southern Nevada, the type was set at the office in Goldfield and the forms wheeled to Columbia, a mile away, every morning in the darkness, where the paper was printed from the press of the Goldfield Review. For the following summer the Sun was run at a loss, but the Tonopah Sun, owned by the same party, made the money to pay for its own and the Goldfield Sun plant. The latter cost $13,000. In the fall of 1905, the Goldfield Sun was changed from a morning to an afternoon paper. Fred W. Payne became manager, and from that moment the paper was a great financial success. The average monthly profits were $1,500. August 3, 1906, because of an article published in the Tonopah Sun, a boycott by the Industrial Workers of the World and the Goldfield Miners' Union, against the Goldfield Sun, began, the first intimation of it being when two carriers of the Goldfield Sun were beaten up by mobs which met them at different places on the streets. The fight was very hot and lasted seven weeks. No carriers nor paper sellers were allowed on the streets, until finally the union printers and pressmen, with large printed badges, braved the dangers. They were followed by mobs offering but

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slight resistance until "Diamondfield Jack" Davis repulsed a mob of over fifty men with two guns, but single-handed. Through the request of George Wingfield all the mines and leases in the camp were shut down to force a settlement of this newspaper boycott and Wingfield and Davis, with guns, guarded the paper sellers on the streets, buying copies of the paper themselves and distributing them to the throng. September 20, Mr. Branson sold the Goldfield Sun to J. M. Burnell, who changed its name to the Goldfield Tribune.

            The Tonopah Sun was established as a weekly newspaper May 1904, by Lindley C. Branson, as editor and owner. At first it was printed one page at a time on a quarter-medium job press, the paper consisting of only four columns and six pages. In a short time it was enlarged to eight pages. From the first issue it was strong and outspoken editorially. It was Independent Republican in politics and later truthfully claimed the credit of being the original insurgent newspaper and its editor of being the original insurgent in Nevada. It carried on an incessant warfare against wildcat mining companies, putting many of them out of business. One of its first acts was to cause the retirement into private life of ex-Congressman C. D. Van Duzer, alleging that he was engaged at wildcatting. January 10, 1905, the Sun became a morning daily, having the previous day received the first linotype in southern Nevada. The machine was shipped in, unpacked and set up secretly and in eleven hours from the time the boxes were under the Sun's roof it was running. Coming in that manner, when neither Tonopah nor Goldfield suspected that they were to have a daily, it came as a sensation and was a bigger advertisement than any previous announcements that could have been given. In the fall of the same year it was changed to an evening paper. The object of the secrecy was to "beat competitors to it," which was accomplished. About the first of August, 1906, the Sun was boycotted by the Industrial Workers of the World of Tonopah and Goldfield and the Miners' unions of Tonopah and Goldfield. The boycott was caused by the publication of an article after the signing of a three-year contract by miners and mine operators at Tonopah in which the Sun charged that 107 of the miners still voted to not accept the contract when every demand of theirs had been granted, and especially on account of an attack therein on G. A. Roberts, as "walking delegate" for the I. W. W. The fight started with the beating up of two paper carriers at Goldfield in the employ of the Goldfield Sun,

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which newspaper belonged also to Mr. Branson. For over seven weeks the battle waged fiercely. Both offices were guarded in fear of being dynamited and all the men were armed, mostly with guns furnished by the proprietor. The Tonopah Merchants' Association offered to furnish the funds if Mr. Branson would fight the organizations in court, which offer was accepted. An injunction suit and a damage suit for $25,000 were started. Judge Peter Breen dismissed the damage and injunction suits against the miners' unions and the damage suit against the I. W. W., leaving only the injunction suit as against the I. W. W. The Supreme Court reversed this decision in toto, thus establishing it as practically statutory law that boycotts were illegal in Nevada. The effect was to break up the I. W. W. in Nevada and drive it from the State. During the career of the Tonopah Sun it was a great money maker. It accumulated a plant which, together with the building and lot, cost $37,000. The profits of the office during the good times prior to the panic of 1907 averaged $1,000 a month, and one month amounted to $4,000. An extensive staff was employed, which included talented men in their lines, the star of the lot having been Arthur V. Buel, a cartoonist of great ability. He remained in the employ of the Sun from early in 1905 until the summer of 1908. For fearlessness both as an individual and his work through the paper he stood on the same footing as the proprietor, who became known far and wide as "the fighting editor of Nevada." It was Mr. Buel who in a cartoon originated the nickname, "I Won't Works" for the Industrial Workers of the World, which is applied to them everywhere. From the second closing and final failure of the Nye and Ormsby County Bank in February, 1909, the Sun, through hard times in the mining regions, became a financial burden to its owner until a year later he sold it at a sacrifice to W. H. Bohannan and W. H. Fording. They ran it a few weeks as a daily, then changing to a semi-weekly and finally to a weekly. In July of that year publication was suspended. In the Tonapah fire of July, 1912, The Sun building and plant were destroyed. Edward Clifford, Sr., as mortgagee, had become the owner. His interest was wholly covered by insurance.

            The Las Vegas Age is the only one remaining alive of the several newspapers established in Las Vegas at or before the opening of the town-site in May, 1905. The paper was established by T. G. Nicklin. Being engaged in running a paper at Beatty, Nev., called the Beatty Miner, Mr.

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Nicklin placed the management of the Age in the hands of C. C. Corkhill.

            In June, 1908, C. P. Squires, the present owner and editor of The Age bought the paper and has since owned it. In January, 1910, the office was moved from its original location on Second Street to its present prominent location on Fremont Street.

            The paper is now Republican in politics and devoted most largely to the upbuilding of the resources of Las Vegas and Clark County, especially in an agricultural way. It carries with it always the spirit of optimism and has been an important factor in the success of the community. Its growth as a business and in circulation is keeping pace with the growth of the community and the Age is today the principal paper of the county both in size, circulation and influence.

            The Manhattan Mail was founded in January, 1906, by Haworth & Anderson. About a year later L. W. Haworth bought out the interest of his partner, Geo. S. Anderson. Haworth published the paper up till October 1, 1908, when F. F. Garside took it under lease and published it up till October 1, 1910. Later it was run by Roy R. Mighels for three months, and by Newman M. Mix, now deceased, six months. When Mix died the paper suspended and has remained closed ever since.

            The Manhattan Post was founded October 15, 1910, by its present publisher, F. F. Garside. It has been published continuously and is the only paper in Manhattan now.

            The Nevada State Journal, the daily morning paper of Reno, commenced publication November 30, 1870, as a weekly with J. G. Laws, W. H. H. Fellows and E. A. Littlefield proprietors under the firm name of J. G. Laws & Co. It was changed to a semi-weekly, February 5, 1873, and to a daily and weekly (except Mondays), April 1, 1874. It was made a seven-day daily in July, 1907.

            Littlefield sold to his partner August 26, 1871; C. C. Powning bought Laws' half interest June 15, 1872, and the firm was Fellows & Powning until September 5, 1874, when Powning became sole proprietor. In 1890 Powning sold to E. D. Kelley and C. H. Stoddard. Stoddard sold to Judge William Webster, who, November 26, 1898, bought out General Kelley's interest and became sole owner. Judge Webster and W. W. Webster, his son, conducted the paper under the firm name of William Webster & Son. E. L. Bingham published the paper beginning July 1, 1901, as lessee. Bingham Bros. later acquired ownership and were asso-

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ciated with F. L. White and C. S. Case. In June, 1907, they leased to the Journal Publishing Company, and in September, 1907, the lease was taken over by George D. Kilborn, who assumed ownership of the paper February 27, 1908, and continued its publication. It has since been incorporated as the Nevada State Journal Publishing Company, but without change in interest.

            The Journal has always been pronounced in its national political character, avoiding factional quarrels and opposing bi-partisan alliances.

            The National Miner was founded by Roy Harris on July 21, 1910. It was founded for the purpose of proclaiming the worth and merit of National, situated in northern Humboldt County, as a gold and silver section.

            The paper later passed into the hands of Frank L. Reber, who since has conducted it along mining lines and matters of industrial concern and interest throughout Nevada. In politics it is independently Democratic.

            The Reno Evening Gazette was founded in 1876, in the Old Alhambra, where the post office now stands. In a few months it moved to Commercial Row, in a small building at the east side of the lot where the Overland Hotel now is. Again moving it went into the upstairs of the present Salvation Army building on Sierra street. Again crossing the track it lit over the Palace dry goods store, going from there to the Jose building west of the Masonic Temple, and from there to the west side of Centre street above Second street, which held it until it built its own building on the same street near First.

            Alexander & Hayden started the paper and ran it two years, when Alexander took up the study of law and Hayden moved to California to follow his trade as printer. In 1878 the owners were Robert L. Fulton and Will F. Edwards, the latter retiring in six months, and Fulton becoming the sole owner. In 1886 Preble and Young bought the paper, adding the Nevada Stockman, and in two years sold to Allen C. Bragg and A. O. Porter. The property was incorporated in 1892 and W. E. Sharon and A. H. Manning became part owners with Mr. Manning as president, Mr. Bragg remaining as editor and manager. Charles A. Norcross purchased Mr. Bragg's shares in 1902, and later sold to Oscar R. Morgan, who promoted the Gazette building, with changes all around.

            In 1912 Frank L. Perrin succeeded Morgan as editor and general manager. The Gazette has been consistently Republican in politics all its

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life. It is doing a valuable work in exploiting the agricultural and horticultural, as well as the mineral industry of Nevada.

            Although a hand-written newspaper was published at Genoa in 1850 which was called the Scorpion, the first newspaper to be printed from type in Douglas County was in 1865 by A. T. Hawley and was called the Douglas County Banner. Its career was short. In February, 1875, A. C. Pratt secured a printing plant and established a weekly paper at Genoa, known as the Carson Valley News. Its existence was a brief four years. In 1880 the Genoa Weekly Courier came into existence and for the first four years did not carry the editor's name at the head of the editorial column. In 1884 J. H. Dungan became editor of the Courier. On August 29, 1884, he was succeeded by G. W. Oman. In less than one month D. E. Williams took up the guiding reins of the Courier. He was succeeded by George M. Smith in January, 1885. From this date until October, 1893, Smith & Williams conducted the Courier alternately, changing no less than four times.

            In the meantime Gardnerville had become the hub of business and being in the more thickly settled part of the county, while Genoa rapidly declined, the citizens there decided they needed a newspaper. They raised a tidy sum by popular subscription and on July 12, 1898, Geo. I. Lamy published the first issue of the Record, a weekly paper. The following year, May 18, 1899, Smith moved the Genoa Courier to Gardnerville. On March 18, 1902, Dr. S. Southworth purchased the Record from Lamy and was its owner and editor until March, 1904, when both the printing office and dwelling was burned to the ground. Smith was ready to quit the hard struggle and at his solicitation Southworth purchased the Courier and consolidated the names—Record-Courier. In December of the same year he sold out to Ezell Bros. After one year and a half they turned over the plant to H. H. Springmeyer. Bert Selkirk, who had been employed in various capacities on both the papers for ten years prior to this time, was placed in charge by Mr. Springmeyer, who laid no claims to being acquainted with newspaper work. In January, 1908, Selkirk purchased the newspaper plant and real estate belonging thereto, and as this is written, 1912, is its editor.

            In the early '80s a newspaper was published at Sheridan, in Douglas County, for a short time, and for a few months prior to the establishment of the Record at Gardnerville, Will Lee, of Carson, took a whirl at the

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newspaper game at Gardnerville, but failed to keep the wolf from the office door. Thus is told the newspaper history in Douglas County.

            The Reese River Reveille was founded in May, 1863. The founder was J. D. Fairchild. He made a good paper, getting dispatches from Washington and the east, daily by pony express until the telegraph lines were installed, after which the paper was a hummer. The biggest stories in these old volumes tell of the decisive battles of the Civil War, the circumstance at Appomattox and the tragedy in Ford's Theatre, which marked the end of Lincoln, the Liberator.

            The Reveille has never missed an issue since May 16, 1863. But, in palmy and prosperous days in a one-time August, the whole works was swept three blocks down Main street as a result of a cloudburst up the canyon. Ever since that day, the Reveille office has been at the lower end of the town, where navigation will be safer, when the next freshet appears.

            So, the present Reveille editor is here in Carpenter's shoes ; in W. D. Jones' shoes (Billy Jones, of Reno) ; Andrew Maute's shoes (the Republican party) ; John Booth's shoes (the late Mr. Booth, a grand editor in his time and father of two more generations of editors, W. W. Booth and sons in Tonopah) ; in Fred Harte's shoes (Harte, who was a cousin of Bret Harte and who wrote the book of lies about the Sazerac Lying Club, one of the most flourishing institutions ever in Austin, leaving an influence still felt in the community, and an example fondly emulated by many now alive.

            The Silver State, published at Winnemucca, is one of Nevada's oldest newspapers, having been established in 1869, by E. D. Kelly and J. J. Hill, as a Democratic weekly. During the middle '80s, when the silver movement was at its height, the paper was purchased by the late Senator George S. Nixon.

            In 1902 the business was taken over by a stock company, by which it was conducted for several years, when it was again sold to six of the leading Republicans of the county. In April, 1912, the Silver State was purchased by E. R. Harroun, its present editor and publisher.

            During its long career, the paper has been variously published as a daily, semi-weekly and tri-weekly, and in politics has been Democratic, Silver and Republican. At present it is published tri-weekly and is the only Republican newspaper in Humboldt County.

            The Student Record was started by the University students on Novem-

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ber 22, 1892. It was a diminutive affair of four pages, with two columns to a page and seven and a half inches long, and beginning with a subscription list of forty-five. The editors claim that they got the material together for the first issue in the basement of a church in the morning before the Sunday-school convened. The publication of the paper grew out of a row between the students and the faculty over the suspension of two students.

            In 1892 the paper suspended for lack of financial assistance and was revived in 1899. It has grown a little each year since then, and in 1909 it became the actual property of the University students, and its name was changed to the University of Nevada Sagebrush.

            It seemed to take a distinctive place as a college paper under the editorship of "Bub Hix" (August Holmes), who seems to have been a born journalist. He was a man of considerable versatility, being editor-in-chief of the paper, Yell Leader, and leading football player of the University.

            "Pat Thirteen" (Lloyd Patrick) was also a leading writer on the paper for some time and acted as advertising manager.

            It is now a ten-page paper with a circulation of 1,500, with an excellent advertising patronage and is regarded as one of the leading college journals of the country.

            The White Pine News was ushered into existence as a weekly newspaper at Treasure City, when the discovery of sensationally rich silver ores in the White Pine district precipitated one of the most spectacular stampedes in the history of mining excitements. During the carnival of riot and speculation, the News was owned by W. H. Pitchford and Robert W. Simpson, who was a familiar figure in journalistic circles in White Pine County for twenty-five years. During the palmy days of Treasure City, the News flourished for a short time as a daily, and numbered on its editorial staff some of the leading satellites in Nevada journalism. George W. Cassidy, afterward Congressman from Nevada, obtained his first newspaper experience on the News. Judge C. C. Goodwin, who was identified with the Tribune and Telegram in Salt Lake City for almost thirty years, was employed on the News during this period. Myron Angel, a noted newspaper writer, was editor of the News when it was published at Treasure City.

            The News was leased to W. J. Forbes in 1869. Within eight months Forbes moved the plant to Hamilton, which has been designated as the county seat. The prosperity of the White Pine district was short, sharp

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and decisive. The exhaustion of the ore bodies marked the end of the era of silver mining. When the marvels of the famous district, melted into the vapors of memory, the News, which had been one of the leading papers in the State, was affected by the general stagnation.

            A. Skillman and Fred Elliott purchased the paper in 1873. With a noticeable decline in population, the News, which had been issued three times a week, was transformed into a weekly. Elliott disposed of his interest to Skillman in 1875. The paper suspended publication three years later, Skillman moving to Eureka, where there were better opportunities for a journalistic venture.

            The printing equipment belonging to the News, was bought by W. L. Davis and W. R. Forest, and the News owners resumed publication of the paper at Cherry Creek in 1880. During the lean and lank years in this county, there was a field for only one newspaper, and Davis, being cognizant of this fact, not only acquired complete ownership of the White Pine News, but stifled all competition by inducing Robert W. Simpson to sell the Ward Reflex. When the rich mines at Taylor began to attract the attention of the mining world, the paper was first published in the new camp in 1887. Three years later the News found an abiding place in Ely, which had been made the county seat in 1887, after the burning of the courthouse at Hamilton.

            After directing the policy of the White Pine News for twenty-three years, W. L. Davis disposed of the paper to L. L. Elliott, and removed to Redwood City, Cal. "Little" Davis, as he was commonly known among the pioneer residents, amassed a small fortune during the time he was publishing the only paper in the county. Before his death, Davis visited the scenes of his early activities several times, and was always anxious to take his accustomed place at the cases.

            Elliott had charge of the paper for four years, and then concluded a deal for the sale of his interest to E. H. Decker, a graduate of the University of Michigan, who was making his first splurge in newspaper work. Ill health caused Decker to abandon journalism as a life work in 1900. He afterward graduated from the Michigan Law School, and is now City Attorney at Battle Creek, Mich. At the time Decker assumed charge of the paper, a new era of prosperity was dawning on the county. A cylinder press and other necessary machinery were purchased by a syndicate of Ely business men, and the old Washington hand-press, which had

502      THE HISTORY OF NEVADA

done duty in the News office for years, was discarded. The paper was increased from five to seven columns. Rev. George F. Plummer, J. M. Lynch, W. J. Stewart and John D. Crosette edited the News for four years.

            Former Governor D. S. Dickerson and Charles A. Walker bought the White Pine News in 1904, the latter severing his connection with the enterprise a year later. At the inception of the boom in the Ely district the News was issued twice a week. Houlder Huggins, of New York, who formerly had charge of the commissary for the Government at Ellis Island, bought the paper from Dickerson for a cash consideration of $5,000. The White Pine News enjoys the distinction of being the first daily newspaper in Ely, the first issue appearing in December, 1906. The White Pine News Publishing Company furnished its readers with a complete Associated Press service, and boasted of a working force that would do credit to a metropolitan daily.

            East Ely has been the home of the paper since September, 1907. It was published under the direction of A. Valjean as editor until July 1, 1910, when the daily was suspended, at which time the News was leased to the Investment News Bureau, controlled by C. S. Crain and S. C. Patrick, for a period of two years, becoming a Sunday morning weekly.

            Mr. Crain retired from the paper in the fall of 1911, the publication continuing under the management of Mr. Patrick, who is its present editor, and issues a creditable eight-page weekly.