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CHAPTER IV. THE OVERLAND STAGE LINE.
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HE
arrival of the first overland mail at either end of the new
route was an important event, and, quite naturally, it was
believed to be an occasion worthy of celebration with
considerable pomp and ceremony. At St. Joseph tbere was
public speaking, enlivening music by brass bands, and
general rejoicing by the masses.
considerable prominence and helped very materially to make it one of the leading commercial towns on the "Big Muddy." The distance by the overland stage line from Atchison through to Placerville was 1913 miles, and, since it had supplanted the southern or Butterfield route, which previously had gone from St. Louis and Memphis southwest in the form of a semicircle, it was the longest, and by all odds the most important, stage line in America, if not on the face of the globe. Including Atchison and Placerville, there were 153 stations, averaging about twelve and one-half miles apart. The fare through was $225--a fraction less than twelve cents a mile, and, when the fare was at its lowest, as high as $2000 was on some days taken in at the Atchison office alone for passengers destined for Placerville. Between Atchison and Denver the fare at first was $75, or eight and two-thirds cents a mile; to Salt Lake, $150. Transient way fares were from twelve and one-half to fifteen cents a mile. Each passenger was allowed twenty-five pounds of baggage, all excess being charged at the rate of one dollar per pound. This was in the early part of 1863. The fare to Denver, subsequently--while the civil war was yet in progress and gold kept steadily appreciating in value--was advanced to $100; a few months later to $125; and, before the close of the war, it cost $175--nearly twenty- seven cents a mile--for a ride on the overland stage from the Missouri river to Denver. This was for the fare alone; the meals were extra. There was a remarkable similarity in many of the stations built along the Platte on the stage route for a distance of at least 250 miles when the line was put in operation. Most of the buildings were erected by the stage company, and usually they were nearly square, one-story, hewn, cedar-log structures, of one to three rooms. When constructed with only one room, often partitions of muslin were used to separate the kitchen from the dining-room and sleeping apartments. The roof was supported by a log placed across from gable to gable, by which poles were supported for rafters placed as close as they could be put together, side by side. On these were placed some willows, then a layer of hay was spread, and this was covered with earth or sod; and, lastly, a sprinkling of coarse gravel covered all, to keep the earth from being blown off. The logs of which most of the first stations were constructed were pro- |
cured in the cañons south of the Platte, in the vicinity of Cottonwood Springs, in the southern part of western Nebraska. Nearly all the "swing" stations along the Platte--in fact, over the entire line--were similar in construction and closely resembled one another. A number of the "home" stations, however, differed somewhat in several respects, being two or three times larger, and provided with sheds, outbuildings, and a number of other conveniences. The station, stable and outbuildings at old Julesburg were built when that was the point where the through coaches forded the South Platte for Salt Lake and California, going up the Rocky Ridge road along Lodge Pole creek. Besides being the point where the stages on the main line crossed the Platte, it also became an important junction for upwards of four years. Here the branch line, the Leavenworth and Pike's Peak Express, started by Jones, Russell & Co. and subsequently absorbed by the Central Company, and known as the "Central Overland California and Pike's Peak Express Company," ran their stages up the South Fork of the Platte for 200 miles beyond to Denver. At Julesburg--in early staging days one of the most important points along the Platte--were erected the largest buildings of the kind between Fort Kearney and Denver. They were built of cedar logs, hauled from near Cottonwood Springs by oxen, a distance of 105 miles. Most of the stations east of Denver for about a hundred miles were constructed of rough lumber hauled from the mountains down the Platte valley. The buildings were decidedly plain, the the (sic) boards being of native Colorado pine, nailed on the frame perpendicularly. Only a few of the stations west of the Big Blue river at Marysville were weather-boarded. With this exception, all were plain log structures between the latter point and Fort Kearney. A station on the line where there was no family living--only a stock tender--was called a "swing" station. The first sod buildings seen on the line were at Fort Kearney, a few having been erected in pioneer overland freighting, pony express and staging days. The post-office, built of sod--also "used as the first telegraph office at the fort--although small, was in the early '60's one of the most prominent of the few buildings of that character between the Missouri river and the Rockies. Strange as it may appear, the stages most of the time con- -5 |
tinued to go out well filled. Often passengers overland would be booked several days ahead before they would get a seat. Sometimes it was necessary to run an extra. Notably, this frequently occurred in the spring of 1864, in consequence of the new gold diggings opening up in the Northwest, at Bannock. Time, then, when fortunes were being made so rapidly, was money to the hurried business man. It occasionally happened that a person anxious to get to Denver to attend to some matters of vital importance, or to go to the Bannock mines as quickly as the stage could carry him, would buy a seat belonging to another man and pay a handsome price for it rather than wait several days for his turn. Thus, from twenty-five to fifty dollars extra was sometimes paid to get a person to give up his seat to one whose business was so urgent he must go through on the first stage regardless of the cost. A timid person, on taking a seat inside or even on top of a four-horse or six-horse stage-coach, invariably becomes anxious, and while traveling over a rugged mountain road this anxiety at times is almost fear. Any sensible person who is obliged to ride behind a spirited team in the bands of an inexperienced or careless driver must necessarily undergo the same misgivings. For this reason, it was the aim of the stage officials to employ none but careful, experienced men, and, when possible, only such were selected for the responsible duty of "knight of the reins." A prudent, level-headed driver does not fail to realize that in his hands are held the lives of a load of passengers, and, usually, he is as anxious to please all such as they are to have a safe and comfortable ride to their journey's end. Like those traveling by rail to-day, there were all kinds of people on the move in the early '60's as passengers overland by the old stage-coach. Usually they were more exclusive, however, on the stage, than they are on the cars. Often private parties of two, four or six would charter a coach and occupy it all by themselves on the trip. Some of them would have a "high old time." Usually they would be provided with several cases of some of the "good things" that could not easily be obtained along the route. They were usually provided with air pillows, which they would inflate, and thus have a good, soft place on which to lay their heads for a comfortable sleep, when night came on. One only slightly acquainted with that part of the plains over |
which the stages ran would naturally suppose that living out there in the early '60's was the most lonesome existence imaginable, and that, to a woman especially, it must have been very severe and trying. There can be no doubt that, to a certain extent, it was lonesome. But many of the women--scarce as they were on the overland route --appeared to enjoy themselves occasionally quite as well as many of the men. While neighbors were scarce--the stations being on an average about twelve and one-half miles apart--dances frequently took place at some of the more important or "home" stations, and it was not unusual for some of the women living nearest to ride the distance on horseback or to get on the stage-coach and go from ten to thirty-five miles, dance perhaps the greater part of the night, and ride back home on the next return coach. Sometimes, as I happen to know, they would ride fifty miles each way to and from a dance. This distance would take in most of the women along the line at stations and ranches embracing a territory east and west for about 100 miles, and they would think nothing of it. Strangers along the route dropping in at the station during the dance would often be puzzled--simply amazed--and naturally wonder where all the women came from in such a sparsely settled country. Most of the ladies on the overland route appeared to take great delight in dancing, as it was about their only social enjoyment. They were only too eager and willing to ride the long distance by stage for the opportunity to have a friendly visit with their lady friends and neighbors and, at the same time, spend the night in "tripping the light, fantastic toe." It was a rough trip to California in the early days, no matter how taken. To be sure there were a few short lines running cars on the Pacific coast, but, barring these, the Hannibal & St. Joseph, in the spring of 1859, was the farthest western line of railway on the continent. The shortest route between the Missouri river and the vast ocean on the west was about 2000 miles. The mode of conveyance at that time was by ox, horse and mule team over the plains, across three lofty chains of mountain ranges. The quickest way to reach the Pacific metropolis then was by the Overland Mail Company's stage-coach by the southern route from St. Louis, a distance of nearly 3000 miles. It took twenty-three days to make the trip. To go by ocean steamer via the Isthmus, over three weeks was consumed between New York and San |
 Overland Stage-Coach Leaving Atchison. |
Francisco. In any event, the trip overland was considered a hazardous one, across the mighty expanse of country, a portion of it beset by savages, and known upwards of half a century ago as the "Great American Desert." Usually it was a delightful trip across the rolling prairies between the Missouri river and the Platte. In making the run the course of nearly all the winding streams was plainly visible, fringed here and there with miniature forest belts. The rich, dark soil of the Kansas and Nebraska prairies in summer was covered with tall, luxuriant native grass, while the atmosphere in many places was perfumed with a delicate aroma wafted by soft breezes from numerous beautiful wild flowers of various tints. In going overland, a stage-coach left Atchison, the eastern starting-point, every morning at eight o'clock, shortly after the arrival of the mail by train on the St. Joseph & Atchison railroad from the East. The mail came over the Missouri river on the steam ferry-boat Ida and was taken direct to the post-office, where it remained until loaded on the stage, and was then carried across the plains to California, six times a week. No mail arriving from the East on Monday morning, the coach that left Atchison that morning was in charge of a messenger, and was called a "messenger coach." The messenger coach was loaded with express packages of various kinds, besides a strong iron box that two persons could handle, containing the treasure and the most valuable of the smaller packages. On the regular Concords the safe was carried in the front boot, under the driver's box. Whenever there happened to be an extra-big run of express packages (enough to comfortably fill the stage), no passengers were taken on that trip; but it was a very rare occurrence if the express coach left Atchison without at least one or more, and often it carried as many as half a dozen passengers, either for Denver, Salt Lake, or on through to the western terminus. The charges on express matter other than gold dust, coin, or currency, between Atchison and Denver, was at the uniform rate of one dollar per pound. More express matter was carried to Denver, Central City and Black Hawk in 1863 than to all other points combined on the main stage line. The main line to the Pacific went a little north of west from Atchison, crossing the Big Blue river at Marysville, 100 miles west; thence continuing |
in a northwesterly course up the north side of the Little Blue river and over the divide into the Platte valley at Hook's station; thence up the south side of the Platte river, via Fort Kearney, Plum Creek, and Cottonwood Springs, to O'Fallon's Bluff. Strange as it appears, that portion of the stage route from Atchison to Denver--like the original southern line from St. Louis to California--was in the form of a crescent, and near O'Fallon's the road was about 100 miles north of Denver. To reach the latter, a distance of nearly 300 miles had to be covered--more than half way to the Rockies. At O'Fallon's Bluff the stages touched the most northerly spot on the route between the Missouri river and the mountains--nearly 100 miles farther north than the original starting-point. Thence the road was almost due west for more than fifty miles to a point a little east of old Julesburg. From Julesburg the route was southwesterly to Denver, nearly 100 miles south of Julesburg, and practically on an air-line due west something less than 600 miles from Atchison. The spot where old Julesburg was situated was always deemed quite a prominent point. Way back in the '50's, before it was named, its location gained for it considerable importance, as it was for a long time better known by freighters and pilgrims as the "Upper California Crossing." In the latter part of 1861, the Central Overland California and Pike's Peak Express Company, having become greatly embarrassed financially, lost all control of their enterprise, and soon it fell into the hands of Ben. Holladay, the New York millionaire. Holladay, from time to time, it appears, had advanced the company large sums of money, and thus came into possession of the line. After reorganizing, the name was changed to the "Overland Stage Line." On taking possession, Holladay spent a large amount of money in making the "Overland" the best-equipped stage line in the country, as it was by far the longest and most important one. He bought a large number of the celebrated Concord stage-coaches, and spared no expense in picking up, all over the country, the best horses and mules to be found suitable for the work that was to be done. The most capable and experienced stage men to be found were employed; many new stations were built, to shorten the "drives"; and everything that could be devised was done to facilitate the transportation of the mail, and to make the trip more pleasant for passengers. |
There were scores of drivers on the "Overland" route who had held the lines on some portion of nearly every division between the Missouri river and the Pacific ocean. A number of them were familiar with almost every mile of the road, and they often told me--especially while on the monotonous route along the south bank of the Platte--that they could make faster time and keep their stock in better conditon (sic) on the road between Atchison and Fort Kearney than on any other part of the road of equal distance on the long stage line. For a greater part of 250 miles, embracing the eastern division, the line ran through a gently rolling prairie country, while along the Platte for nearly 400 miles, between Fort Kearney and Denver, it was, most of the way, a water grade--practically a dead pull--much more difficult to make the schedule run and at the same time keep the stock in the best condition for staging. One of the main obstacles along the Platte to impede the progress was frequent stretches of sand. The finest stock on the road, if there was any choice, was strung out on the eastern division. When coaches were behind time coming in from the west, there was little difficulty, if the roads were in good shape, to make up several hours' lost time between Fort Kearney and the Missouri river, landing passengers in Atchison, then the farthest western city in the country east of the Pacific having railroad connection with the East, North, and South. Speeding down the Little Blue valley in Nebraska--especially when we were behind time--the passengers on the stage-coach thought that part of the route the easiest riding and pleasantest part of the journey between the Missouri river and the mountains. The country was unsurpassed; the scenery lovely beyond description. Now and then they thought they were making time second only to a veritable lightning express train. The boys would occasionally "let their teams out," and the speed made would fairly astonish some of the passengers who had been occupying seats in the old Concord for more than two weeks--from the western slope of the Sierras to the Missouri valley. While coming in from Denver on one of my trips as messenger, early in the fall of 1863, the distance--653 miles--was covered in five days, eight hours. We came through sixteen hours ahead of schedule time, which was about four and one-half miles an hour, including all stops. The fastest time on any part of that |
journey was when we made fourteen miles in fifty-two minutes without a change, over the rolling prairies along the Little Blue, valley, from Big Sandy to Thompson's, in southern Nebraska. On the coach were twelve passengers and nearly half a ton of mail and express matter, in addition to the driver and messenger. The time made between those two stations averaged a fraction over sixteen miles an hour. One team of four horses did the work, but it was one of the best stage teams that ever pulled a Concord coach between the mighty Missouri and the Golden Gate. For a fraction less than an hour, that ride of fourteen miles was one of the fastest ever made on the overland line. For endurance it seemed that no animal could excel the mule, but when brisk work was wanted horses were almost invariably used. With few exceptions, for instance, the Benham and some other mule teams, horses were exclusively used on the stage line. One of the mule teams was known as the "spike" team. These animals hauled the stage for nearly eighteen miles through a sand bed from Junction to Fremont's Orchard, on the Denver division. It was a very good team, and was composed of five dark brown mules, nearly all of the same size. The two heaviest animals were on the wheel, then two a little lighter ahead, and still another and the lightest one was hitched single in the lead. The long-eared animals appeared to be much better adapted for work in the sandy region than horses and were used to better advantage in such places. There were quite a number of strong secessionists on the "Overland" as there were firm Union men. Neither side hesitated to express itself when occasion demanded. A number of the employees did n't "care a continental," they said, how the war terminated, but as for putting themselves up as targets in the service of "Uncle Sam" at thirteen dollars a month--to do that they never would consent. They were being paid too well on the road. Drivers in the employ of the stage company received from $40 to $75 a month and board; stock tenders, $40 to $50; carpenters, $75; harness-makers and blacksmiths, $100 to $125; and division agents, $100 to $125. On the Smoky Hill route, in the later '60's, when the Indians were so numerous and had begun to be troublesome and dangerous, the pay for division agents on the frontier was advanced to $200 a month for first-class men, and even then they were hard to |
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© 1999, 2000, 2001 for the NEGenWeb by Pam Rietsch, Ted & Carole Miller