was made up wholly of sporting men, with the exception of a clergyman. On account of a blinding snow-storm the coach, when within twenty-five or thirty miles of its destination, was obliged to lay by at a wayside cabin. The cabin was built with only one room, but a wagon cover had been stretched across, which served as a partition and divided it into two rooms. After partaking of a good, hot supper the gamblers were assigned quarters for the night in the rear apartment. Instead of retiring to bed, they decided to while away the time in a game of poker, the "ante" being fixed at twenty -five cents. Near the fire in the other end of the cabin sat the ranchman and his family, the minister, and Tom Clark, the driver. When the hour came for retiring, the preacher proposed, as was his regular custom, that he should hold family worship and the suggestion was agreed to by all in the house. The exercises began with a sacred song, in which the shufflers of the cards at the other end heartily joined. But this did not stop the game, neither did it stop the music, for, while the parson was reading a chapter from the Scriptures, the bad men started on the good, old hymn "From Greenland's Icy Mountains," shortly followed by "Nearer, my God, to Thee." Soon the party at the family fireside knelt to ask for divine care and blessing, but the supplications of the clergyman were frequently interrupted by amendments suggested by the sacrilegious party at the gaming-table. When the good man repeated the words "Give us this day our daily bread," one of the gamblers quickly yelled out, "Say, pard, strike Him for pie." At the conclusion of the prayer, the minister was surrounded by the sports, who, displaying six-shooters and otherwise intimidating him, persuaded him to join them in drinking a most villainous article of frontier poison that went by the name of whisky. A Passenger Forgets his Wardrobe. It happened at one time that a passenger who had been traveling leisurely along the stage line discovered that he had left a portion of his wardrobe. He sat down and wrote the chambermaid to forward the article to him to his destination, but, it seems, the request came too late. The chambermaid penned to him the following: I'll frankly tell you all about it; I've made a shift of your old shirt, And--you must make a shift without it." |
The Old Stage-coach. Many tributes have from time to time been paid to the old overland stage, but nothing more beautiful than the following, written for the Atchison Champion, which appeared about a quarter of a century after the last coach had left Atchison, for so many years the eastern starting-point on the great stage line: "There are few if any of the things of the fading past to which, in our reminiscent moods, we revert more fondly than the old stage-coach. That vehicle of travel so popular with the generations who have fallen asleep. That mode of public conveyance in the years preceding the advent of railways with their Pullman car attachments. That favorite old box on wheels and leather springs in which we rode long before the sublime pageant of power hurled us daily on wings of fire over 3000 miles of iron rail; before the lightning sounded the paean of progress on the million-chorded lyre of human thought; before the iron barges of progress smote the abject seas like conquerors, treading the burnished emerald of the deep like sovereigns, in those now far-off days when distance was not annihilated by the modern appliance of locomotion. "The old stage-coach! How well we remember it, and how vividly we recall its appearance, conjuring up out of the depths of memory all the experiences associated with the journeys we took in it. It seemed to us then the very incarnation of cosiness and comfort, the embodiment of all that was best in the line of transportation. It was so far superior to the old springless lumber wagon and the ox cart that we deemed it a rare luxury to have both the occasion and the means to ride in it. And how many, many miles some of us have at one time and another ridden in it. There be those yet living who came West in a stage-coach; who crossed the plains in one that started out in the early and later '50's here from Atchison, and from St. Joseph and Leavenworth. It was the best possible kind of conveyance in that primitive day. "But the old stage-coach has ended its career--made its last trip. Here and there what remains of it stands beneath the rickety shed of some wayside inn, a relic of bygone days--weather worn, storm-battered, rusty, and abandoned. Its leather springs are cracked and broken, its doors gone, its sides and back smashed in, its boot the refuge of rats and bats, its wheels bent, its axle trees twisted--a poor, forlorn remnant of its former proud and glorious self. Ghosts of a buried past now hide in it. Shades of the occupants it carried once have enwrapped it. Spectral forms of the road-agents who once surrounded it to rifle the contents of its boot now troop around it when nightly shadows enfold it. "The old brake that so often and so faithfully checked its down-hill speed, grating out assuring harsh sounds to the traveler's ear when the road was steep and dangerous, is bent and broken and useless now. The mated steeds that drew it over long, weary, dusty miles are gone. In the seats where the worn and exhausted journeyers once slept nightmares now revel. The imperious and impressively confident driver--Bill, Hank, Joe, |
Dave--is gone. From his nerveless hands the lines have fallen, and the shrill notes of his horn have died away on the air of the vanished years. Poor thing! there it stands, under the old tavern shed, wrecked, dismantled, forlorn. No one hails its coming with eager, beating heart; no one weeps as it rumbles away with its precious freight of affection and friendship. "Decay and rust settled down upon it years ago and preempted it, and a strange mustiness now dominates it. The blasts of winter have frayed its trappings; the winds of autumn have shredded its curtains. Its chains, once so bright, are tarnished with the rust of decades, but their links bind us to a well-remembered past. Its gloss, which shone in the suns that set in that far yesterday, is blurred and faded out. And all that now remains of it is a combination of broken straps, hinges, latches, steps-wheels, hubs, tires, bottom, sides, seats--all one of time's most effective and lasting collapses. "Had it a tongue to speak, could it give utterance to its thought, what tales, what forgotten stories, it could tell; what secrets--social, commercial, political--it could divulge; what scenes and experiences it could describe; what recollections it could revive; what a history it could disclose; what a strange and eventful past it could resuscitate. But alas, it has no tongue; it cannot speak. Poor old coach! there it stands, one of the most magnificent 'has beens' of a romantic period of our lives." * Opening the Union Pacific Railway. The stage-coaches furnished the rapid means of transportation all over Kansas for years before the railroads were built. Lines extended from all the important towns, and the state was fairly a network of stage routes, mostly two- and four-horse lines being the ones operated. Atchison, Leavenworth and Lawrence for a long time were the principal points, but Topeka, Fort Scott and other towns after *No one on the plains who became familiar with the Concord coach in overland staging days will ever forget the old vehicle. The stage-coach was a thing much admired by all, for it took the place of railroads in overland transportation. The vast army of ox drivers were the most numerous and apparently among the most anxious follows on the road to greet the old coach. On its approach they would invariably halt for a few seconds, and glance at the vehicle as it came along, quickly rolled away, steadily kept growing smaller, and in a few minutes was beyond their vision. Each ox driver managed from four to six yoke, and in his hand a whip of immense size was carried. This "persuader" he could manipulate in such a manner that the report made a noise every few seconds as loud as a pistol shot. As the stage whirled on past a long train of wagons, it seemed to be a delightful pastime for each ox driver to crack his whip as a sort of parting salute for something he greatly revered. Every day these follows saw a stage bound east and west. They fairly worshiped it, for they knew the stage could cover almost as many miles in a day as the slow, patient oxen could get over in a week. The officers and soldiers at Fort Kearney and the several military posts beyond anxiously watched for the coming and going of the stage-coach. When not on duty, they were most always near by when the stage rolled past them. Parties made up of invalids and pleasure seekers were numerous on the plains, and crossed by their own private conveyances with mules or horses. They also watched anxiously for and always admired the stage-coach. It was to them, as it was to all others, the swift-moving vehicle that carried the passengers, mail, and express. It was important to all sojourners on the plains, for three times a week it left mail at the few way post-offices and ranches along the great highway. |
wards gained some prominence as stage towns. As the railroads came, and were being built across the state, many of the older stage lines were abandoned, and new routes less important were from time to time opened as occasion demanded. Ground was broken at Wyandotte, February 7, 1860, on the Kansas Central railroad. In August, 1863, grading was begun on the Kansas Pacific railway,* at the state line. On the 28th of November, 1864, the first excursion train over the road went from Wyandotte to Lawrence. The following notice regarding the same appeared in the Kansas Daily Tribune, Lawrence, December 18, 1864:
The first time-card issued by the Union (Kansas) Pacific railway appears as follows:  TIME TABLE No. 1. Trains will be run as follows on and after December 19th, 1884.
 E.
M.BARTHOLOW,C. WOOD DAVIS, General Freight Agent. General Superintendent.
*Samuel Hallett begins the grade of the Kansas Pacific railway at the state line between Kansas and Missouri, in the forest, erecting a tall post, and inscribing on the face toward Missouri the word "SLAVERY," and on the face towards Kansas the word "FREEDOM."--Wilder's Annals. |
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In the Kansas Weekly Leader, Topeka, December 28, 1865, appears the Time-card issued by the Union Pacific railway, E. D., after the road was finished to Topeka. The line was better known at that time as the Kansas Pacific railroad. Now that thirty-five years have gone by since the great road was finished from Kansas City to the capital city of Kansas, the card is deemed to be of sufficient historical interest to reproduce it in this volume. It is as follows:
The "Santa Fe Route." On the
13th of June, 1860, ground was broken at Atchison for the
Atchison & Fort Union railroad (now the Santa Fe) during
a celebration held there on the completion of the railroad
from St. Joseph to Atchison. The breaking out of the civil
war, early in 1861, however, retarded the construction of
the road. On the 3d of March, 1863, Congress granted lands
for the Santa Fe and other Kansas roads. On the 9th of
February, 1864, the Government land grant of 6400 acres per
mile was transferred to the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe
Railroad Company, and on the 17th of that month the first
officers of the company were elected. On July 28, 1865, a
meeting was held in the interest of the road at Topeka, at
which the counties of Atchison, Jefferson, Shawnee, Osage,
Lyon and Chase agreed to vote bonds at an election called
for September 12. The following month Mr. T. J. Peter began
construction work on the road, at Topeka, On March 30, 1869,
the first locomotive for the |
new road--named the C. K. Holliday --was on the track and passed over the Kansas river bridge at Topeka. In July, 1869, the track was laid to the coal-mines at Carbondale, and this called for the following advertisement, which appeared in the Kansas Daily State Record June 24, 1869:
In September, 1869, the road reached Burlingame. On July 20, 1870, the track was laid to Emporia, and, on the 17th of September following, the event was fittingly celebrated by the opening of the road to that thriving city. Work did not stop, however, but the line was steadily pushed forward to the southwest crossing the state diagonally from near the northeast corner to the southwest, across the southeast portion of Colorado, and through New Mexico, Arizona and California to San Francisco. The road has gone south, and runs its own cars into Galveston and the City of Mexico. The "California limited," one of the most elegantly furnished passenger-trains in the country, runs over the great Santa Fe from Chicago to the Golden Gate. No other road in the United States has made more rapid strides. Probably no road in the world excels it in magnificent equipment and judicious management.
JUST before starting from Kansas on his overland journey by stage-coach, on May 20, 1859, Horace Greeley, in a letter to Charles A. Dana, then editor-in-chief of the New York Tribune, wrote: "Rain--mud most profound--flooded rivers and streams--glorious soil--worthless politicians. Such is Kansas in a nutshell." |
The Missouri Pacific Railway. Ground was broken for the "Pacific Railroad of Missouri" at St. Louis July 4, 1850. In 1857 the line was opened as far west as Jefferson City. It may be of interest to the present generation to note the summer timecard of this road at that date. Here is facsimile: 
PARAGRAPHS. THE great
overland trail, along which the mighty traffic of the plains
moved, was built from Fort Leavenworth to Fort Kearney in
1849. Early in the '50's, following the California gold
excitement, St. Joseph quickly grasped the situation, and
built a road from there which intersected the overland near
the eastern border of the Kickapoo Indian reservation, and,
a few years later, shortly following the Cherry Creek gold
discovery, in 1858, the "Parallel" wagon road was built due
west from Atchison. This road intersected the main highway
three and a half miles west of Atchison, at an old Mormon
camping spot familiarly known in that vicinity as "Mormon
Grove." Thus, in less than twenty-five miles west of the
great bend in the Missouri river, the roads leading from
three important outfitting points--Atchison, St. Joseph, and
Leavenworth--separated less than 100 miles--came together.
This trail, during the civil war, was undoubtedly the most
extensively traveled frontier wagon road in the country. To
get from Fort Kearney to St. Joseph a distance of 273 miles
must be covered. Being a great military post, Fort Kearney
was one of the most important stage stations between the
Missouri |
river and the Rockies. Owing to the vast traffic on the plains, it almost always appeared busy around the stage company's office and near the old military headquarters. Here, and a few miles east in the Platte valley, the various wagon roads from Leavenworth, Atchison, St. Joseph, Nebraska City and Omaha all united, naturally making it a very busy point. Its palmiest days were in the '60's, during the civil war, some years before a railroad was running on Kansas and Nebraska soil, and while an unprecedented business was being carried on in the way of overland transportation by mules and oxen. HOLLADAY carried the overland mail nearly all the time during the period which embraced the civil war, receiving annually an average of nearly $1,000,000 therefor. On account of the many bands of hostile Indians and occasional highway robbers, the work was constantly attended with peril. He was promised by the President of the United States both protection in carrying the mails and indemnity for losses incurred, but the Government shamefully treated him in this matter. For more than ten years before his death, in 1877, he had been trying to get a settlement on account of his losses by Indian depredations, which aggregated several hundred thousand dollars, but he never succeeded in getting a cent. While he received a large sum quarterly for transporting the mail, his running expenses were enormous, and he died practically a pauper. SOME rather amusing scenes were now and then witnessed. I remember one at old Julesburg in the summer of 1863. While one of the stock tenders was scratching himself quite lively, a Jew passenger who had just come in from the west, and was eagerly watching matters, said to the driver: "Mine vriend, you appears to be droubled mit vleas." "Fleas! fleas! fleas!" quickly answered the busy driver, "Do you take me for a d--- dirty dog? There's no fleas on me; them 's lice!" and the conversation was suddenly brought to a close. UNAUTHENTICATED claims place the date of probable discovery of Great Salt Lake at about 1820, by a French trapper named Provost; also, that William N. Ashley preceded Jim Bridger, having, in 1825-'26, led a company from St. Louis through the South Pass. (See sketch of Bridger, page 475.) |
HORACE GREELEY arrived at Salt Lake City, Sunday, July 10, 1859. On Saturday evening, the 16th, he was given a reception and banqueted by the Deseret Typographical and Press Association. He spoke half an hour, and, in his plain and peculiar style, referred to the progress the world had made during his recollection; remarked how extraordinary had been the increase of facilities for the spread of knowledge through the press and by means of the electric telegraph, and stated that he "looked forward to a day when still greater improvements would be made--when the daily newspaper, printed from continuous rolls, cut and folded by steam, would be thrown off ready for distribution at a rate far exceeding that of the rapid eight- and ten-cylinder presses then in use; and when the telegraph would connect, through one grand electric current, continent with continent and island with island, till every corner of the earth should be illumined with telegraphic communication." ALTHOUGH the stage at times was considerably delayed by almost impassable roads, caused by fearful rain- and snow-storms, yet it was seldom the old Concord ever laid by. There was little or no rest for the favorite pioneer passenger vehicle of the plains. Rain or shine, night or day, surrounded by violent thunderstorms and piercing blizzards, with passengers, mail and express in charge of the experienced and fearless driver, the coach must be kept a going. Steadily it lumbered along the overland highway. Its course was over rolling prairies, along beautiful valleys, through stretches of sand and alkali, up and down the rugged mountain sides, across dangerous passes of the "Great Divide." In making the trip, it was often necessary to ford roaring torrents, as the stage, hitched behind spirited steeds, sped towards its destination at the western slope of the Sierra Nevadas. MOST of the stations along the old trail built in the later '50's and early '60's were of plain logs, and some of them were rather primitive in construction. It was seldom that a station was seen in those days above one story in height. In building them, poles or split logs were used for rafters. The rafters were covered with brush; then a thick layer of hay; finally sod or loose earth. When it could be found, a sprinkling of coarse gravel nicely covered all. Two rooms sufficed in most cases. Most of the |
"swing" stations had but one room. Sometimes, at the regular stations, there would be a small kitchen in the rear. Where there were three or four rooms, the partitions almost invariably were of muslin; the ceilings were also covered with muslin; and muslin was tacked around on the sides and ends of the interior of the building--giving the premises a rather cozy appearance. Muslin sufficed for plastering, and thus proved an important staple the entire length of the stage line. IN Adams county, Nebraska, just east of Kearney county, the first Fourth of July celebration was held at Liberty Farm, in 1871, on the Little Blue river, near the location of the old overland stage station, in early days, and not far from where the horrible massacre by Indians occurred in the summer of 1864. The settlers of Clay, the adjoining county on the east, united with the liberty-loving citizens of Adams county, and joined in the patriotic exercises. Although the region was only sparsely settled, about 150 persons were present, nearly the entire population turning out and participating. An oration was delivered by a preacher, a bountiful repast was prepared and served by the ladies, enlivening music was discoursed, and the festivities wound up with a dance. WHEN overland freighting traffic out of the Missouri river towns began to diminish, in the later '60's, the parties who had so long been engaged in the business commenced to realize that the iron horse surely had invaded the great Platte Valley, that it had virtually preempted the old route across the plains, and was about to stop, forever, the transit of ox and mule trains. Not only had the railroad badly crippled their occupation, but it was steadily shortening the stage route. Soon it put an end to that mode of transportation, and the old wagon highway on which the overland stages ran between the "Big Muddy" and the boundless ocean eventually became a trail of the past. "SHANGHAI," who is mentioned in a foot-note at bottom of page 519, is the original of the character Shang in John J. Ingalls's "Catfish Aristocracy." He moved from Marysville to Sumner, a town in Atchison county, and lived there until the time of his death. It was during Shanghai's residence at Sumner that Mr. Ingalls got acquainted with him. |
THERE was marked contrast between some of the stations where the stage, owing perhaps to an unavoidable delay, was forced to stop with its passengers, who, being hungry, desired to eat. A few of the stations had not a chair about the premises, and rough board benches were made to serve instead; others utilized soap boxes and cracker boxes to good purpose; while yet others embellished nail kegs with pieces of buckskin or buffalo robe tacked over the bead, that furnished apparently comfortable seats. While more useful than ornamental, they were decidedly preferable to some of the dilapidated wood chairs to be found at a few of the primitive "swing" stations on the upper South Platte and farther to the Northwest, among a number of the stopping places along the stage route in the Rockies. THINGS have greatly changed since the "Overland" days. Then it was an easy matter for the stage boys to get their drinks or find a place to gamble. To do this they did n't have to sneak around to some back door for an "eye-opener" or to "buck the tiger." Such indispensable (?) requisites were always in plain sight; in short, one of the first things noticed after stepping inside any of the pioneer theaters, "free and-easy" variety balls and promiscuous dance-houses in the mining camps was a bar, convenient to which were numerous gambling devices as side attractions, fitted for alluring the visitors. IN THE later '50's George Chorpening operated the first regular stage line between Salt Lake and Sacramento, while Russell, Majors & Waddell were at the head of the line making trips once a week between St. Joseph and Salt Lake. The through California letter mail was then being carried twice a week between St. Louis and San Francisco on the southern route by John Butterfield, the New Yorker, but the bulk of the vast mail for the Pacific, consisting of papers, public documents, books, etc., was sent from New York around by the Isthmus on an ocean steamer, the schedule being twenty-three days. THE name of Camp Floyd was changed to Fort Crittenden early in 1861, by order of Col. Philip St. George Cooke, who became post commander after General Johnston had left the camp for the nation's capital. |
IN THE palmy days of overland staging, in the '60's, Salt Lake City was the favorite half-way stopping place between the summits of the two lofty mountain ranges between the Missouri and the Pacific. It was virtually an "oasis in the desert." Passengers traveling the route by stage-coach always enjoyed stopping at Salt Lake, for, on the long, tedious journey, they could nearly always get rest and find everything they wanted in the beautiful city so charmingly nestled under the shadow of the Wasatch range, and only a few miles from the great lake after which the city was named. WHILE making an overland trip in the stage-coach, in the summer of 1865, Hon. Schuyler Colfax, in a speech he delivered at Salt Lake City, in the latter part of June, speaking of the Indians, said: "If I ever had any particular love for the 'noble red man,' it is pretty much evaporated during this trip. I do not think as much of him as I did. They were looking down from the hills at us; as we have since learned, and, had it not been that Mr. Otis and I had our hair cut so short at Atchison that it would not have paid expenses to be taken even by the Indians, they might have scalped us." |
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