[Clara Douglas, What Tonopah's Gold Has Wrought, Sunset, February 1906]

PAIUTE WASHERWOMEN

What Tonopah's Gold has Wrought

By CLARA E. DOUGLAS

Drawings by Maynard Dixon

            TONOPAH, Goldfield, Bullfrog, Silver Peak, in short the entire desert of southern Nevada, over against the California line, is so much in the public's eye, at the present time, that to keep one's pen out of the ink of its fame is to admit one takes no interest in the yellow dross which makes or mars all lives. I, certainly, had no intention of writing about Tonopah when I came here, 'twas graver business bade me into the wonderful settlement; yet, being here, I climbed up the side of Mt. Brougher, and, gazing down over that compact village, with its frequent strange interruptions of gray dump-matter, showing where some one digs for Nature's stores, I fain would add my quota to the many tales now circulating through magazine and newspaper.

            Of a truth, 'tis a fascinating view, from Mt. Brougher. The city nestles deep, encircled by strangely shaped mountain peaks of volcanic origin beyond question ; and the weird desert lights—lights seen nowhere on the face of God's footstool save in the deserts—hold one enthralled even while they moan of desolation, way out yonder where the prospector's pick has not yet broken ground, they yet bespeak the power of the Almighty as no other lights can speak.

            Across the cañon, high up toward the summit of Mt. Oddie, the smoke-stack of the North Star belches forth volumes of black smoke, and the long, gray line of dump bespeaks unlimited work. Just a little below, the eye encounters the same enactment at the Montana; while but a little farther down the mountainside, the famous Mizpah (Jim Butler's original find), rears her red buildings against the mountain's background and seems fairly to scream work and gold. Work to the right; work to the left; and gold, gold everywhere. It is said that no richer camp has ever been known on earth; and that no mining camp, heretofore, ever boasted such rapid growth and such stable improvements.

            Up the cañon, down the cañon, in terraces across the mountain sides, and in the very heart of the settlement, the long, gray hills of dump tell stories of yards upon yards of porphyry brought from the depths, each carrying great or small quantities of the yellow metal for which men sacrifice their lives—aye, and their souls, too.

            It is singular that there should be fascination great enough in the pursuit of this gleaming mineral to hold men

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enthralled so completely that they take no thought of the arid desert, the penetrating gray dust, the glare of the midsummer sun and lack of creature comforts; forget everything but the shimmering golden harvest. Is it worth while?

            Two miles down the cañon, I stood upon the site of the Pittsburg-Tonopah Extension. The man who opened that shaft, erected the hoist and planned the future of this property, which is confidently expected to apex the veins in this region, passed across the Great Divide before his work had demonstrated his hopes. Can it be possible that there is sufficient joy in all this hard work—sufficient exhilaration in what might evolve from out those dingy rocks to be worth the while? Had that man lived his fortune was assured; but is the giving of life amid such surroundings, and for the possible wealth, exhilaration enough to compensate for the physical fatigue and the early death? I have put the question to several men here, and they have answered me "yes"; answered it emphatically. Well, perhaps.

            Tonopah is only four years old. In another year it will be a city. It narrowly escaped incorporation at the last election, and is being fathered, now, by the Tonopah Board of Trade. All things considered, it is an orderly town, very much less "open" than Bullfrog. One miner assured me that "twice the money changes hands in Bullfrog than in Tonopah." He was from Bullfrog; and he made this assertion with pride, having reference to the amounts that pass to and fro, after dark. Tonopah is sufficiently "wide open," however. There are saloons, with girls who sing; and the roll of the various wheels, with their accompanying chink, chink of shuffling coin, tell their tale quite loudly enough. The altitude of Tonopah is about six thousand seven hundred feet; the population close to six thousand.

            The story of Jim Butler's discovery of the rich ore, in 1900, has been repeated so often that almost every newspaper reader knows it was an accident, due to a frisky mountain burro, which revealed to the veteran prospector the unsuspected wealth of this region. The event was celebrated, recently, at the Mizpah club. Fact is, the event is celebrated every little while—whenever Mr. Butler happens around, and occasion can, by any stretch whatsoever, warrant.

            The Mizpah club is one of Tonopah's prides. Its membership includes all the great men, and most of the lesser ones; and it is quite as swell, in its way, as is the Manhattan, of New York, or the Pacific-Union, of San Francisco.

            Just a few days ago Messrs. Schwab and McKane puffed into town, in a private train. Then there was another celebration. Couldn't allow millionaires of their magnitude to come without tying down all the whistles in camp. My! what a din was clamored forth. Up in the residential section we thought the town was on fire; and were relieved, indeed, to find 'twas only a few overly wealthy mine-owners honoring the region of some of their holdings.

            During the four years of this camp's life there have been over $10,000,000 netted by the companies in operation here; while the ore deposits in sight overreach the $100,000,000 figure; and

A WALK OVER POSSIBLE MILLIONS

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TYPES OF THE PROMOTER, OF THE NEVADA GOLD DISTRICT

this in the face of the fact that most of the properties are but just opened. What possibilities may lie in the fastness of these undeveloped mines fairly causes a catch in the breath at the mere thought. No one doubts the permanency of the veins, and those who can talk advisedly upon the subject predict startling disclosures. In all the history of the Comstock there was never so much pay-ore in sight as now lays open to gaze in Tonopah. This, of itself, speaks volumes to all mining-folk or stock-dealers. Here is more "food for thought" : The Tonopah mining company with a capital of one million dollars pays the same sum in annual dividends. The Tonopah Extension has paid two quarterly dividends this year, increasing at each payment. The first was five cents, the second, ten.

            The Tonopah mine has, probably, the most unique history of any known. There has never been an issue of treasury stock. The entire workings, covering to date about two and a half miles, beside one hundred thousand dollars' worth of buildings and surface equipment,

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have been paid for by the ore shipments. The company has also paid seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in dividends. They are now erecting a mill and electric power plant which will cost something over $700,000.

            Apropos of electric power, Tonopah has transmission from Bishop Creek, California, far in advance of needs for household use and mines of today. First one knows there will be manufactories ranged alongside the stamp-mills. This might, indeed, be probable were it not for the lack of water in all the desert region. However, that very lack of water has advantages, from the miner's point of view ; for the presence of water in mines is, in every way, objectionable; and of course, when a country is permeated with water, it is bound to appear, at some depth, in the mines. In the Tonopah region there is no such complaint. The mines are positively dry even on the very low levels which have been reached.

            The water problem was a serious matter in the early days of this camp, and many men avoided its use altogether; but now there are two systems supplying the populace with sufficient for all needs —with care, of course. One must never waste water out west as carelessly as in eastern regions, where trickling little rivulets run hither and yon. There is not water enough in Tonopah to warrant lawns; but then, most of the people here have little thought, or time, for lawns. It's the yellow ground covering that claims attention.

            The Western Union telegraph line is here; so also is there local and long distance telephone service. Wells Fargo and company's express do a rushing business, and the Tonopah railroad, broad gauge, running through to Goldfield, connects at Reno with the Southern Pacific. Through standard sleepers, of the very finest model, run from San Francisco without change: hence, it is possible for the tourist or miner to travel as comfortably to Tonopah or Goldfield, and receive whatever goods he desires, as easily as from San Francisco to Los Angeles, or New York to Chicago.

            Three newspapers, two weekly and one daily, are published in Tonopah. Two churches hold regular service, and another is in course of erection. A high-school building, to cost $15,000, capable of accommodating three hundred pupils, is under construction. A fifty-thousand dollar court-house is so near completion that the glistening covering on the dome catches the sun's rays and laughs forth the intention of holding next court therein. There is an opera house; three banking corporations ;

THE ARGONAUT OF TODAY

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TEAMSTERS

innumerable hotels of every known variety from the impressive white-stone, three-story structure, where one can get choice accommodations at choice prices, to the brown tent, at the upper end of Brougher avenue, which proclaims on a broad sheet of candleboard, that beds are to be had for fifty cents a night—separate beds, too. I peeped in and noted that each cot had canvas partition twixt it and its neighbor.

            Architectural scope ranges in wondrous variety through the residential section. There are stone houses and frame houses of pretentious bearing; and there are homes built of bottles. Rather picturesque, comely dwellings these: The bottles are laid up evenly, but end out, in a solid casing of crude cement; doors and windows being as carefully incased as those held in place by more conventional building materials. There is also, at least, one house wherein the individual taste of the owner demonstrated that barrels were of architectural consideration. Beside these, there are cabins and tents of every conceivable shape and quality. It is, in sooth, a question of "you pays your money, you takes your choice." The huckster's cart serves at your door; or, you may purchase, over all sorts of counters, on Brougher avenue, anything you desire, from a head of cabbage to a modish silk gown.

IN THE RESIDENCE DISTRICT