Development of Communication in the Old West Following the Gold Strikes

(By Mrs. M. E. Plassmann)

Following the discovery of gold in California, came the demand for some quicker means of communication between the East and the mining camps scattered over our American “Gold Coast,’ than was possible through immigrant trains or freighting outfits. This demand, which became imperative and eventually forced Congress to take action, was not that of the majority of the people who might have been interested in the project, and had a certain amount of influence on legislation, but through the economic need for a mail service. Eastern businessmen wished to share in the profits of this El Dorado, and desired to be in close touch with what was going on there.

One man tried to solve the problem through the use of camels. His name was Edward Fitzgerald Beale. He purchased camels and brought them to the Southwest in 1856, where they were tried for a couple of years. He found them well adapted for crossing the desert region, and in every way desirable. His difficulty, though, was his inability to interest those who could have aided him in the project, and it proved a failure.

A year later, an Act of congress gave to the Postmaster General the authority to call for bids to establish a regular mail service to California, which should operate day and night on the 25-day schedule, over a route chosen by the successful bidder, who was to have a six-year contract. A year of preparation was granted him, which, considering difficulties to be overcome, was altogether too short, it would appear, yet Butterfield, the successful competitor, accomplished what was little less than a miracle, and he had his line in operation by the middle of September, 1858.
The postmaster general favored the southern route, as was to have been expected at that period in our history, when North and South were daily growing more antagonistic. Butterfield decided to follow the northern route.

Professor Paxon, in his history of the American Frontier, says there were no roads at this time. This must have been an error, as the Platte route was then taken by most of the northern emigration to California after the discovery of gold there; and not alone by emigrants, but by countless freighting trains, carrying supplies to army posts, and for Indian annuities, as well as for the mining camps springing up along the way. Professor Paxon cites a writer of 1860 as claiming there were 18,000 freight wagons in constant operation, at that time. Many of these must have gone over the Platte route.

In 1863 there was not a far better road either north or south of the Platte, than those we had known in Ohio. We followed the north side of the North Platte. There were stretches of sand, to be sure, but these were not so hard to traverse as the deep mud of eastern roads. Lander’s Cut-Off, which we followed later, was a new road through the mountains, and even here the difficulties met were easily overcome. It did not require a vast amount of travel to define a road across the plains. In the mountains, it was another story; but even here, by 1858 there was assuredly what could have been denominated a good road. Of course, it may not have been like the streets of a city, but no worse than the average country road. I think all who traveled the Platte road in the ‘60s, or earlier, will bear me out in this statement.

From Tipton, Missouri to San Francisco, the initial journey of the new line was accomplished in 24 days, 18 hours and 35 minutes, an impossible record to have made over roadless prairies and mountains, no matter how capable Butterfield may have been.

The government receipt from this experiment were not so large as had been hoped, and the postmaster general was doubtful of its ever proving a success. He voiced his opinion in these words: “Until a railroad shall have been constructed across the continent, the conveyance of the Pacific mails overland must be regarded a wholly impractical.” Nevertheless the mails continued to find their way to California, and by the route the same official had not favored. This was due largely to the starting of the Pony Express in 1860.

The coach service was for carrying the mail, passengers being merely a side issue. For this reason those who traveled by stage did not fare luxuriously, as is testified by no other writer than Mark Twain. He states: “Twenty-four mortal days and nights - 25 being schedule time - must be spent in the ambulance; passengers becoming crazy with whisky, mixed with want of sleep, are often obliged to be strapped to their seats; their meals dispatched during their 10-minute halts, are simply abominable, the heats are excessive, the climate malarias; lamps are not to be used at night for fear of non-existent Indians; briefly there is no end to this Via Mala’s miseries.”

The North Platte route was that commonly taken by the Mormon freight outfits. I do not know what was hauled to the East from Salt Lake, but from Omaha westward, converts to the new faith, together with their possessions filled the great wagons, and overflowed onto this road, where the strongest, both men and women walked. From this it will be evident that their rate of progress was slow.

The mail coaches took the southern road. For this reason we were never called upon to make way for the United States mail. In 1873 I distinctly remember seeing a man on horseback in northern Utah forced to do so. The month was February, with the ground covered to a great depth with snow, which, packed hard from constant travel, was as if paved. Forced to leave the beaten track, the man plunged nearly to his horse’s back into the snow, and the profanity he uttered made my ears tingle worse than they did from the prevailing cold weather. Laughing derisively, our driver cracked his long whiplash, and we soon outdistanced the abuse launched at us by the unfortunate man as he struggled back into the road.

In this instance a sledge took the place of a coach, as was often necessary in winter. It was a long one, capable of carrying at least ten passengers, three on a seat, and one with the driver, the baggage and mail being lashed onto the rear.

The ordinary Concord coach was so named from its place of manufacture, Concord, New Hampshire, in which region it passed its novitiate and proved its fitness for the severe test of western Mountain and plains travel. Its true name was the Abbot-Downing coach. Professor Paxon thus describes it: “At a pinch it would carry 14 passengers, nine inside and five, including the driver, on the box or on the roof seat. Its wide-tired, heavy wheels were nearly as capable as those of the prairie schooner. Its body was slung on stout leather braces, and was sheltered from the weather by stout leather curtains. At the rear of the body was a projecting ‘boot’ with leather cover, in which the scanty baggage of the passengers was carried. Twenty-five pounds of personal baggage was the usual allowance for a three-weeks’ journey; many of the passengers carried their whole allowance in a jug. It was on the boot that the mail sacks were packed, and if there was more mail than could be accommodated here, the sacks rode inside to the exclusion of passengers.”

It has already been told in these columns, how a crafty driver managed, by taking advantage of this custom, to force a United States official to connive in the throwing out of some Congressional Reports, or religious tracts, the driver held to be undesirable for transportation. The sacks were piled on the front seat from which they rolled off, with the able assistance of the driver, when the coach was climbing a hill, and collided with the official, who insisted that they should be transferred to the back seat, on reaching the summit of the hill. This was done, but in going down hill there was the same result, when the long-suffering battered official demanded that the offending mail matter should be left on the prairie.

In mountain travel and over bad roads, the ‘jerky’ was used. This was a two-seated vehicle which was so-called from the involuntary motion it inflicted on the passengers. I am lacking the mechanical knowledge to describe accurately the construction of the jerky, but I can feelingly converse at great length on the sufferings of riding in one.
The building of the Union Pacific ended the coach service. The means of communication between East and West had at length become rapid and comfortable. An educational movie might picture the slow developments of the means of transit from the prairie schooner, drawn by plodding oxen or horses; the brief experiment of using camels on the southern deserts; the first mail service, which traveled by day and camped at night; the advent of the Concord stages; the short-lived pony express; then the railroad. This should be followed by a view of the same plains and mountains dotted thick with countless automobiles carrying thousands on a veritable joyride along the trails over which their predecessors had so painfully journeyed. (Published in the Hysham Echo February 4, 1926 & November 8, 2013) Print this post