Memories of the U.P.

From Omaha to Corinne, Utah, by Rail in 1873; Thrilling Incidents of Construction Days Recalled

(First published in the Hysham Echo July 1, 1926)
by Mrs. M. E. Plassmann

 

It was my good fortune - for such I deem it - twice to have crossed the Plains in that staunch craft, a prairie schooner, and to have taken the journey from Omaha to Utah, by rail within four years after the completion of the Union Pacific, and to note the changes wrought through its building.

Omaha, a miracle city, with substantial business blocks and fine residences, had sprung up almost over night from the mud flats by the Missouri, making it unrecognizable as the forlorn little town where we outfitted for the long trek in 1863.
Along the way the railroad eating stations furnished nuclei for future towns. Cheyenne, because of its favorable location at the point where the road branched to Denver, was the most promising of these. As we approached the mountains, there were fewer settlements to be seen, the country retaining the wild aspect with which I was familiar.

The railroad itself, was not conducted as I saw it three years later. There were no dining cars, meals being served at stations where, although more time was granted for eating than was given the Overland Stage company, one could not indulge in the leisure afforded by the modern diner. Every Pullman had its conductor, whose chief duty seemed to be the entertainment of the passengers. He warned them in time, so they should not miss any of the fine scenery along the road, and when scenery failed, told stories, or otherwise helped to while away the monotonous hours.

There were but few Pullman passengers on our train in February of 1873. Two Englishmen; a California girl on a return trip to Europe; Colonel Sanders and myself. There being so few, it was natural that we should become acquainted, all but the stout English gentleman, who sat swathed in plaids and read the guidebook with concentrated attention, relieved only by periodical glasses of ‘alf and ‘alf, which the porter served, or stronger drinks if requested.

As we approached the mountains the cold increased, and our British fellow traveler had greater need for his shawls and rugs, the car not being well heated. His companion, being of a scientific turn, made frequent sallies onto the platform, to determine the altitude, and take other observations, darting in and out like a mammoth dragon fly, his movements being quick and unexpected, but he never failed to be on hand when the drinks were seed, often suggesting their timeliness. He was continually making startling discoveries, which he hastened to impart to his friend, who never permitted himself to wax enthusiastic over anything.

The young lady from California, I learned later, had shocked the conventionalities, by going abroad unchaperoned. Her father being a man of wealth, she was besieged while in London, by impecunious noblemen, who were quite willing to exchange a title for sufficient hard cash. Their ardor waned, however, when she made it perfectly plain that property was not entailed in this country, and her father might choose to ignore his children when it came to the disposal of his riches. I found her an interesting acquaintance, and regretted parting with her at Corinne, where she was joined by her pretty mother, and her younger sister.

It seems hardly credible now, that there should have been active opposition to the building of this road, and the Central Pacific, which constituted the western end of the line, yet the New York Herald, in 1848, was moved to remark, “The whole project is ridiculous and absurd.” This opposition may have been the result of the failure of canals to increase the population along their routes, and bring the desired profit to those financially interested in them.

The East regarded the Plains as a barren waste, suitable alone for the purpose of providing a section where the Indians could be penned, and lead the nomadic life unhindered. It was all right for the Indians, for the whites did not crave a section where scientist “had reported with emphasis that white men could not live there” says Professor Paxson. A few men (whose minds were less burdened with scholastic lore), reasoned differently. They thought if the Plains could grow sufficient grass to support vast herds of buffalo; if fruits and berries grow there, other things might be raised, which should have been self-evident to any sane person.

When finally, in 1862, the Union Pacific Act was passed, it was a war measure that did not become effective until after the Civil War was ended. The difficulty of obtaining funds for its construction was due to the fact that the government loan of bonds became a first mortgage. Not until an amended act made the Government loan a second mortgage, was the requisite money advanced for the completion of the first forty miles, when Government aid would be given. Although a start was made at Sacramento for the Central Pacific, it was five years before work began in earnest on either end of the line.

At first the point of meeting for the two lines was designated as 150 miles into Nevada from the west, but those interested in the Central Pacific, induced Congress to leave it indefinite. The government loan was doubled in the rough section, and trebled in the mountains. The high plateau of Nevada, having been listed as mountainous, there was a desire on the part of both lines to reach there first. Fear that the roads might overlap, finally led to the point of meeting being placed by Congress on the north shore of Salt Lake, at Promontory Point.

The Union Pacific had the advantage of building over an almost level country, but the laborers it employed were mainly Irish, and received better pay than was given to the Chinese who laid the Central Pacific.

Camps were established along the way for the accommodation of the workers. These resembled mining towns in many particulars. They flourished for awhile, generally to be abandoned later. Their lack of permanency did not hinder real estate dealers from doing a lively business in town lots while the boom lasted.

These temporary abiding places were like mining camps in their chosen amusements. Dance halls and saloons abounded, with the usual resultant lawlessness. Samuel Bowles, editor of the Springfield Republican called such a town which he visited in 1868, “Hell on wheels,” and added, referring to the population, “Hell would have appeared to have been raked to furnish them, and to it they must have naturally returned after graduating here,” and hell was a locality more implicitly believed in fifty years ago than it is now.

In the morning the town was depopulated by the workers, who returned at night to join the orgies which were a welcome relief from toil. Money was freely spent, and crime flourished. “Ever so often,” writes Professor Paxson, “when the track head was forty or fifty miles in advance of the terminal town, they knocked off work for a day and moved the town. Tents were taken down, bags and boxes were packed, frames of houses were disjointed and piled in rough mass upon the cars. The whole moved forward to a new place at the head of the track. An observer of the site that was to be Cheyenne, has reported the arrival of the train at that bare station: “The guard jumped off his van, and seeing some friends on the platform, called out with a flourish, ‘Gentlemen, here’s Julesburg.’ And what had been Julesburg that morning was taken off the cars and set up to be Cheyenne that night. The terminal town of the Central Pacific was a Chinese camp, for Governor Stanford and his associates had repaired their local labor shortage by importing cheap coolie gangs. It was less expensive and more orderly than the Union Pacific camp, for the Chinese workers saved their pay, lived on rice, and wasted less than the Irish laborers who dominated on the eastern end.”

If the Irish laborers were more expensive than the Chinese, and more lawless, they were better suited to meet the obstacles with which the Union Pacific had to contend. All will admit that the Irish are good fighters, and on this job fighting might be demanded at any moment. Many of them had, in addition to their fighting proclivities, experience as soldiers. They went armed to their work, in order to defend themselves against possible attacks from Indians. These workers surely earned their pay, every cent of it. Without their acting as guards, the construction of the road would have been greatly hindered.
The last spike was driven on May 10, 1869 and Bret Harte, in writing of this meeting of the engines, makes the Western engine thus address the Eastern, to the discomfiture of the latter:

“‘You brag about the East! You do?
Why I bring the East to you.
All the Orient, all Cathay,
Find through me the shortest way;
And the sun you follow here,
Rises in my hemisphere!’”

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