NV Tour 5

Small Town Detours

(Ontario, Ore.)—McDermitt—Winnemucca—Lovelock—Fernley— Fallon—Hawthorne—Tonopah—Goldfield — Las Vegas—S earc1 • 11ght —(Needles, Calif.). Oregon Line to California Line, 597.2 miles.

Las Vegas is the Charleston Range, being developed as a recreational area, where in less than half an hour a motor car moves from sandy cactus-covered desert to timberline, passing through five life zones with their characteristic fauna and flora. South of Las Vegas, at a corner of the Boulder Dam Recreational Area, US 95 turns straight south through a valley below one of the awesome ranges bordering the lower Colorado River,

This section of US 95 runs through the broad, treeless Quinn River Valley, west of the Santa Rosa Mountains, which are crossed about ao miles north of Winnemucca. Side roads on the east lead up into sparsely wooded, craggy Humboldt National Forest and lovely Paradise Valley, while roads westward lead far out over lava beds and alkali flats of Black Rock and Granite Creek deserts and to some game refuges.

US 95 crosses the OREGON LINE, 0 m.f at point 180 miles south of Ontario, Oregon, which is on US 30.

McDERMITT, 2 m. (4,400 alt., 559 dist. pop,), is the community center of people on very large cattle, sheep, and horse ranches. Formerly there were numbers of antelope in the area, and a few still roam the mountains (L).

Left from McDermitt on a dirt road to the MCDERMITT INDIAN RESERVATION AGENCY, 5 m., where the headquarters buildings are the reconditioned structures of old Fort McDermitt—the second "t" is a map-maker's addition. Cavalry and infantry were stationed here to protect settlers, and also travelers on the Nevada-Idaho road. Before 1865 it had been Quinn River Station, a stagecoach stop. After the Paradise Valley and other Indian troubles in this isolated region (see ahead), Colonel Charles McDermit, commander of the Nevada Military District (1864-65) led a troop of cavalry to the place. Soon after, on August 7, 1865, while out scouting, he was shot from ambush. His body was brought to the station and sent to Fort Churchill, the base near Carson, ^here it was buried with military honors. Immediately thereafter the post was established, on a reserve of more than 2,000 acres. It had three buildings for officers, a very large barrack, a three-room hospital, and large storehouses and stables. On Dec i, 1886, the ground and buildings were turned over to the Department of Interior for an Indian reservation.

Indians here make a living by stock raising. Some are very old. Buffalo Missouri is an old woman who as a young girl washed clothes for the soldiers. Several others including Sally and Joe Or Sam, Race Horse Bob, and Johnny Stay Behind, can look back across nearly a century. An occasional argument among the Indians turns a page of history and gives sidelights on the past

One day a group of listening tribesmen surrounded two oldsters who were engaged in a lengthy pow-wow on the days when the army was in command here. "Big school here!" one declared emphatically, and pointed at a building. "No, little school here!" said the other. "Big school there!"—and pointed toward another building. The two old men for an hour or more paced back and forth between the two buildings, while personal adherents of each trailed behind. Short declarations in English were interpolated by long-winded and gesticulating argument in the Paiute tongue. After a while both men turned away, each convinced that he alone was right and that the loss of memory of the other was appalling. The explanation of the argument was that when the soldiers were here the Indian children attended school for a longer time each day than they did after the soldiers left Too, the classes were then held IB

a different building from that used later. However ineffectual the educational program of the early agency had been, it had not allowed these two old warriors to forget that classes had been shorter—hence "little school"—after the soldiers moved from the scene.

Thib country was once at the northern end of ancient Lake La- hontan. Upon entering the area Peter Skene Ogden and his men came to Quinn River, which heads in the northern end of Santa Rosa Mountains (L), and follows it southward, eventually reaching the excellent but short-lived trapping grounds of the Humboldt River. Ogden and his men were the first white men these Indians had ever seen.

At 14 m. on US 95 is the junction with the Forest Service Canyon Creek Road (see ahead).

Left on this road to NATIONAL, 10.9 m. (approx. 6,100 alt), a very rich gold mining district in the Humboldt National Forest. The National Mine alone has produced $8,000,000 and is still active. This region, overlooked or ignored by early prospectors, remained for an "automobile prospector" to discover in 1907. The transition from the "desert rat" with his burro to the modern gold- seeker with his car is evident in certain local place-names, such as Auto and Radiator hills.

Blocks of ground were leased, and in 1909 two men found the National vein at a depth of 40 feet The richest ore taken out assayed $75 a pound. Shipped ore brought $24 a pound, but 'second grade* rock was worth only $2 a pound. Ore so rich gave sticky fingers to some of the miners, and highgrading flourished. Adventurers of every description flocked to the camp, and for several years the population roistered without stint and gave little thought to the morrow. At one time the National workings were protected by armed guards, and searchlights played over the mine entrance all night.

There is trout fishing in the many small streams of the area; and during the fall the country is invaded by hundreds of deer hunters who find conditions ideal in the hills where open areas are only occasionally interrupted by clumps of aspen, scrub pine, and cedar.

OROVADA, 30.2 m. (4,348 alt, 180 dist, pop.), is a supply and Red Cross First Aid Station.

Quinn River (R) is still what Ogden called it, "not a large stream but certainly a long one." As more and more water is diverted to irrigate hay fields, less and less of Quinn River reaches its sink in the Black Rock Desert. US 95 goes south along the western edge of Quinn River Valley, with the Santa Rosa Mountains on the eastern horizon. It roughly follows the stagecoach road over which thousands rushed between 1865 and 1880 to seek fortunes in the Idaho mining camps of the Boise Basin.

Right on this road which goes across a country where miles are long and houses few and far between, Quinn River Valley, long and lean, extends westward to the Black Rock Desert

AMOS, 3 m., is a mail stop at the junction with a graded dirt road; L. here 13 m. to the AWAKENING MINING DISTRICT, in the Slumbering Hills. The JUMBO GOLD MINE, discovered in 1935, attracted national attention. It was sold for $10,000,000, purchase to be completed at any time the lessee cared to buy the mine outright, but with a down payment of $250,000

in cash with a royalty of not less than $100,000 to be paid each year thereafter.

On Nev. 8A is SOD HOUSE, 14.1 m., a road station (water; no gasoline) where a primitive early structure built entirely of sod still stands. It has seen dusty stagecoaches hauled by sweating teams, Indians skulking through the tall sage, and has heard the bugles of cavalry on reconnaissance.

Just west of Sod House, Quinn River (R) becomes sluggish for a moment in a swamp area. Narrow Kings Valley opens from the north, cut by Kings River, which seeps into Quinn River. Here Ogden's trappers talked with Indians, and left the beayerless Quinn to seek the little Humboldt eastward. The Jackson Creek Mountains (L) separate the desert valley, from the Black Rock Desert west of the range. Distantly in the valley southward, an isolated hill called Donna Schee (5,100 alt.) seems to hang suspended in the shimmering heat of summer sun but stands out boldly again in the shadows of evening.

HAPPY CREEK STATION, 30 m. (approx. 4,050 alt), is another mail station. It rests on the north toe of Buff Peak (7,200 alt) in the Jackson Mountains (L), against the margin of a large alkali fiat. At sunset in this silent land, fight changes so swiftly that one evening may be filled with 100 variations of color and pattern. Occasional quivering mirages project themselves against the hills.

QUINN RIVER CUSSING, 88.4 «., is a mail stop that serves scattered ranches as well as mining districts tucked away in a corner of the Black Rock and Pine Forest Mountains some 20 miles westward. Mesa-like Sentinel Peak (7,000 alt.) is a southern spire of the Pine Forest Mountains. All that is left of Quinn River at this point now changes its direction and trickles southward to vanish into the long Black Rock Desert

Nev. 8A turns northward at Quinn River Crossing toward the narrow rise between the Pine Forest Mountains (L) and Trident Peak (8,400 alt) in the Trident Mountains (R). VIRGIN STATION (gasoline), 54.4 m. (4,700 alt), is a county road maintenance station, and also a mail stop serving the Virgin Creek mines and ranches. North of the rise the road gently drops into a broader valley. High in the Pine Forest Mountains (L) at 64 m.f is the ASHDOWN MINE, which was sold in the 1930*5 for $500,000. DENIO, 69 m.3 is a desert outpost almost on the Oregon Line. Here Nev. 8A turns abruptly southwestward, then west, traversing the extreme northwestern corner of the State. In the 100 miles between Denio and the California Line no supplies are available except in emergencies.

Nev. 8A follows the south bank of Thousand Cieek at 83 m.f and soon crosses the eastern boundary of the CHARLES SHELDON ANTELOPE WILD LIFE REFUGE, established in 1931 for the protection of antelope, sage hens, and mule deer. By the end of 1936 the refuge had been enlarged until it embraced more than 500,000 acres. Here is the junction with a dirt road.

Left on this road 31.5 m. to the isolated PAIUTE AND SHOSHONE INDIAN RESERVATION (202 pop.). The ruins of FORT McGARRY remain on the shores of Summit Lake within the reservation. This post was established on the Applegate Cut-off, an early road to Oregon, on Sept 9, 1867. A few soldiers had been sent here earlier and were living in tents. Stone buildings were erected and the fort was put on a more permanent basis. It was abandoned on March 25, 1871. The reservation has a very small winter population, but during the summer many Indians from Pyramid Lake come here to graze stock, living the while a more primitive and less disciplined life than they are accustomed to on the larger reservations.

An elderly Indian woman explained why the Indians like the place. "Here (Pyramid Lake) cannot see far, nothing here. Summit Lake much better to sit There can sit long time, can see very far." She can sit and see the blazing Black Rock Desert running southward, and the ragged outline of eroded hills reaching westward to the Sierras. It has been suggested that the older Indians like to come to this remote region to engage in certain old ceremonies far from the curious eyes of the whites.

line and food), where Inquiry can be made on best approach to the THOUSAND CREEK FOSSIL BEDS, northward, and the VIRGIN VALLEY OPAL FIELDS on the south. The beds are gravel deposits whew the fossilized bones of camels, sabre- toothed tigers, mastodons, and other mammals have been recovered. In the opal fields, discovered in 1908, stones generally occur as casts of limbs or twigs and as crack-fillings in petrified trees. In 1919 a 17-ounce^ black opal was found, valued by the owners at $250,000; k i* now on display in the Smithsonian Institution. Generally of the fire variety, the best stones are unexcelled in color and brilliance.

West of Thousand Creek Ranch Nev. 8A winds up a stiff grade through a maze of buttes and deeply eroded walls. Occasionally the white iags of startled antelope can be seen vanishing ovor t hill.

COYOTE SPRINGS (L), 139 **., usually affords drinking water. A little further on are the MASSACRE LAKES (R), dry sinks. In 1850, a large and well-equipped train elected to take the Applegate Cut-off into northern California. In this area, reached by way of High Rock Canyon (L), they were attacked by Indians. Rashly leaving the shelter of their wagons the immigrants charged on their foe and though they vanquished the Indians, 40 men were killed. In fearful haste the dead wert gathered and interred in a common grave. Then oxen drew wagons back and forth over the spot in an attempt to disguise it and save it from desecration.

Right here 1 m. to VYA, a servio« station and store. The road continues to the HEADQUARTERS OF THE CHARLES SHELDON WILD LIFE REFUGE, 18 «.

Nev. 8A at 162.4 m. enters '49 CANYON. Here at the eastern base of the Cascades is the site of a '49 camp (R); the stone wall of the canyon is covered with names and dates chiseled by travelers anxious to prove to others that they had preceded them over the Applegate Cut-off.

Close to this point Nev. SA me*ts the northern section of Nev* 34 (fit Tour ic).

Left on Nev. 8B to PARADISE VALLEY, 18 m. (4,308 alt, 400 dist. pop.), the community center of an area of the same name that was settled before 1865. Prospectors visiting the valley named k aad no one who has ever seen it denies its right to the praise implied. On April 4, 1865, two friendly Indians warned one of the newcomers that members of another tribe were on the warpath. Even before all of the scattered settlers could be warned, distant smoke from fired cabins rose in columns. Ten men, three women, one older boy, and four children barricaded themselves in a corral and were besieged for several hours before help arrived. Two of the men were killed. After other murders, as well as the destruction of homes and the theft of livestock, the Indians were driven away by cavalry from Fort Churchill.

Paradise Valley is hemmed OH three sides by mountains. A thin arm of the Santa Rosa Mountains, topped by Santa Rosa Peak (9,300 alt.), bars the west and circles the north end to Spring Peak (9,300 alt.) and Thimble Mountain (8,000 alt). The creeks coming down from the latter feed Martin Creek, which enters from northern watersheds. In late spring the encircling Santa Rosas are carpeted with blue, red, and yellow flowers.

The road continues along Indian Creek and up out of Paradise Valley to the MARTIN CREEK RANGER STATION AND CAMPGROUND, 32 m.t a base for sportsmen fishing for trout and hunting deer in the Santa Rosa Mountains. The Little Humboldt and Martin Creek tributaries are particularly popular with fishermen.

Everywhere along this route are fields of brilliant wild flowers—scarlet Indian paintbrush, purple lupines, little yellow wild sunflowers. The Forest Road crosses HINKEY SUMMIT (e. 8,030 alt), 81 m.t where the view is notable. The road winds northward through a division of the Humboldt National Forest

then westward down along Canyon Creek to a junction wfth US 95, 20 «., at a point 16.5 miles north of Orovada (see before}.

US 95 proceeds southward with Bloody Run Peak (c. 7,400 alt.), southern end of the Santa Rosa Mountains, on the left; in the valley of the Little Humboldt the route follows a stage road over which California miners entered Idaho in the boom of the i86o's. After skirting the eastern slope of the Winnemucca Mountains (6,600 alt.) and hay fields of the Humboldt, US 95 enters WINNEMUCCA, 73.9 m. (see Tour 10), which is on US 40, with which US 95 unites between this point and Fernley (see Totir i£).

This section of US 95 is particularly beautiful, winding through sagebrush covered valleys and across alkali flats between eroded ranges whose bare red-streaked faces give hint of the great mineral wealth deposited in them. On every slope can be seen old workings and even the hillocks bear prospectors' location monuments—piles of stone covering the inevitable baking powder or tobacco can that bears the record of ownership. Wheel tracks lead off in all directions, particularly toward the drawi and canyons, indications of the number of men who have done claim development work at likely spots.

At FERNLEY, 0 m., US 95 abruptly changes direction, going eastward to HAZEN, 11 77z., (4,015 alt., c. 129 pop.), a small trading center of ranchers at a railroad junction whence a branch of the Southern Pacific starts south to Mina, to make connection with the Tonopah & Goldfield Railroad.

At 19 m., in LEETEVILLE (see Tour 7<r), US 95 meets US 50, with which it unites briefly eastward (see Tour *]c} to FALLON, 80 m. (3,749 alt., 1758 pop.) (see Tour 7^). Here US 50 continues eastward (see Tour 7^), and US 95 turns south, running through ranchlands irrigated by the Newlands Project.

The Carson River is crossed at 35 m.f its flow a mere trickle at times since the waters have been impounded for irrigation purposes. The road ascends gradually to a low pass in the wierdly beautiful Desert Mountain Range, and descends gently with few twists or curves, passing through the Walker River Indian Reservation to a junction with Nev. 3 (see Tour 4^), 69 m.

SCHURZ, 70.4 m.f is the agency of the Walker Lake Indian Reservation. Here is a trading post where baskets, beadwork, blankets and souvenirs are sold. This hamlet with its cottonwood trees stands out in the arid region around it.

Paiute predominate among the three or four hundred Indians here. Sober and industrious, they make their livelihood raising stock. The group has about 150 votes at general election, and takes its politics very seriously. An old Indian, John Cleveland, is the judge of the tribe under native law and fills his position with dignity and pomp. Impressive in the main, heiresses well, and carries out the idea of the

reverence due the law in his bearing. He informs all office ^seekers that it is not in keeping with his position as judge to mix in politics, though he could if he wished be a man of great influence.

There are many famous names, such as Cleveland, Vorhees, and Greeley, among the Indians. In addition to the usual staff-house, hospital, and other agency buildings, there are three stores, and a meeting house in which the Indians gamble and dance.

WALKER LAKE, in view (L) at 72 m.f is 30 miles long, from 3 to 8 miles wide, and has a maximum depth of 1,000 feet. The principal feeder of this beautiful remnant of ancient Lake Lahontan is Walker River, from the north; the lake has no outlet. Perch and lake trout are abundant and ducks are numerous on the high shores. At the northern end are numerous pelicans.

Fremont made his way from Smoky Valley to the eastern shore of Walker Lake, where in November, 1845, he camped to await his rendevous with the Walker division of his party. It was _ at this time that he honored Joseph Walker, the trapper-scout and guide, by naming the lake, river, and a pass for him.

Distances are so deceptive in the clear air here that at night the lights of Hawthorne seem only seven or eight miles away when seen from the lake's upper end.

In the steadfast intensity of its color and the beauty of its setting Walker Lake is one of the most impressive lakes in the West. As deeply and opaquely blue as the Mediterranean, under bright sunlight it looks like a field of heavy liquid of unfathomable depth. The highway is high up on its shore for 16 miles. At the lower end is Mount Grant (11,303 alt), the highest peak in the Wassuk Range. For a short distance along the rocky base of this range, the highway runs through open cuts. Workmen, n I erials, and equipment had to be transported by boat. Across the Itoke (L) are terraces marking the many water levels of former ages.

The lake, impressive in its wild setting, has been the subject of numerous tall tales and people are occasionally met who swear that they have glimpsed the fabulous monster supposed to live in its blue depths.

The Indians here say that at first the world was all water. Then the water began to go down and at last Kurangwa (Mount Grant) emerged. There was fire on its top and when the wind blew hard the water from the lake dashed high and would have extinguished the fire had the sagehen not nestled down over it and fanned away the water with her wings. But the heat scorched the feathers on her breast; they remain black to this day. Afterward the Paiute got their first fire from the mountain through the help of the rabbit, who is a great wonderworker. As the water subsided other mountains appeared and at last the earth was left as it now is.

Then the great ancestor of the Paiute, whom they call Muninea— Our Father—came from the south and journeyed across to the mountains east of Carson Sink, where he made his home. A woman, Ibidsii —Our Mother—, followed him from the same direction and she be-

came his wife. They dressed themselves in skins, and lived on the meat of deer and mountain sheep, for there was plenty of game in those days. They had children—two boys and two girls. Their father made bows and arrows for the boys, and the mother fashioned sticks for the girls with which to dig roots. When the children grew up each boy married his sister, but the two new families quarreled so much their father told them to separate. So one family went to Walker Lake and became the fish-eaters and the other went farther north into Idaho and became the buffalo eaters—the Bannock. At 95 m. is the junction with the Cottonwood Creek Road.

Right on this unpaved but safe and well constructed road, which is under control of the Navy Department. It winds up the Wassuk Range (second gear in most sections; water piped to roadside at intervals) to a junction with the Mount Grant Road, 11.5 m. Left on this road 6 m. to a parking spot (11,000 alt.) 303 feet below the topmost pinnacle of MOUNT GRANT. The view from die mountain top, the highest in a vast region, is spectacular. Far below between brilliantly tinted ranges is indigo-blue Walker Lake; beyond the Naval Ammunition Station at the base of Mount Grant is the stark, barren Gillis Range; southward is the narrow black thread of US 95, winding its way to Tonopah; and westward rises the long snow-capped Sierra Nevada.

At its junction with the Mount Grant Road the Cottonwood Creek Road becomes the Cory Creek Road, which continues southward and eastward to the Lucky Boy Grade, 26.5 m. (see ahead), at a point 3 miles from the town of Hawthorne. The southern approach to the Mount Grant Road provides a much used circular route, though the Cory Creek Road is not maintained as well as the Cottonwood Creek Road.

The U. S. NAVAL AMMUNITION DEPOT, whose entrance is at 102.7 m.j covers more than three hundred square miles. The reservation contains 28 brick residences for officers and civilians, and all the facilities usual to a military base, including an auditorium, motion picture theater, bowling alley, and baseball park. The sight of sailors and marines among the barren mountains here is startling.

HAWTHORNE, 106 m. (4,375 alt., 929 pop.) (hotels and other facilities), seat of Mineral County, spreads out from one broad main street on a sunny plain in view of distant high ranges. It is the trade center of scattered ranch families and also the outfitting point of prospectors and miners who in 1939 were cheered by promising discoveries. Here as in every other town in Nevada—and especially along this route —every little restaurant, drinking-gambling club, and store has at least a few specimens of ore on display and the owners will talk for hours of the probable assay value of the different pieces.

The presence of the naval depot has given a certain air of prosperity to the small town and facilities are in keeping with the number of visitors to the depot. From the main street small, low buildings housing the ammunition are visible, widely separated and far from habitations of any kind.

Hawthorne is truly the West in its scorn for small change; a 350 breakfast will be given for 3Oc if the unfortunate traveler must complete his payment with five pennies.

As elsewhere in the State, a school is one of the most impressive buildings—in this case a school for the lower grades. The low building of very modern design is up to date even to the Venetian shades at its windows. The townspeople love to tell of the young teacher who came here from the North where "fish" mean small mountain trout—and ordered half a dozen fish from Walker Lake for her biology lesson; nothing would hold the catch but the tank in which the fire company stores water for emergencies.

Right from Hawthorne on an improved road that climbs 7,441 feet, over Lucky Boy Grade, to AURORA, 28 m., which in 1864 had a population of 10,000. In less than ten years it produced at least $30,000,000 in bullion. In 1860 valuable ore was discovered in this area by E. R. Hicks, and the town was named for the goddess of dawn by J. M. Corey. In early days Aurora was aggressively claimed by both Nevada and California and for election put up a full ticket for Esmeralda County in Nevada and another for Mono County, California. Nevada won the boundary decision by four miles in 1864, but until that time Aurora was the seat of Mono County.

Near by Bodie was a notoriously tough camp, where "a man for breakfast" was so frequent an occurrence that the phrase "bad man from Bodie" was coined to describe those residents who were still in the land of the living. So impressive was its reputation for wickedness that once when an Aurora family considered moving to the town, the young daughter of the family finished her evening prayers with a tearful, "Goodbye, God, we're going to Bodie." Aurora ruffled whatever virtuous feathers it could muster and pointed scornfully, Bodie resentfully charged that the child has been deliberately misquoted—that what she had actually said was "Good! By God, we're going to Bodie" 1

Not quite so obstreperous as its neighbor, Aurora was scarcely a quiet community. More than once the substantial element applied drastic measures to guntoters and a hastily organized "601" committee strung up a few of the worst offenders for salutary effect. Aurora considered itself a Union town, and when the "Sescesh" element became noisy in 1862, the town became an armed camp with the Esmeralda Rifles forcing ring leaders to swear allegiance to the Union flag.

It was here that Milton Sharp, prince of all Nevada's highway bandits, dug his way out of jail. Sharp was a polite and handsome Robin Hood who preyed chiefly on Wells Fargo stages and was said to give money to the poor. After one of his jail escapes he had wandered for several days in the snow without food before returning to surrender; when asked why he had not robbed a rancher, Sharp stiffened with amazement.

Mark Twain lived here for several months while investigating some mining claims that he and his brother, Orion Clemens, Territorial Secretary of Nevada, had purchased. Failing to find the golden harvest that he sought with zeal, Twain "abandoned mining and went to milling," working a few days as a laborer in a quartz mill for $10 a week and board. While here he received an offer of $25 a week to work as a reporter on the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise, to which he had written letters for publication.

Aurora shows signs of returning to life, maintaining "a remarkable resistance to complete abandonment."

US 95 goes east from Hawthorne through rolling desert between sweeps of jagged mountains. North, east, and south, there is not a tree in sight or anything that resembles a tree, but the valley is broken by abrupt hillocks and mesas and no two ranges are alike in shape or color. At 118 m. the highway crosses a sandy lakebed and heads for the distant Gabbs Valley Range. The brush covering the

floor is beautiful at all times of the year; in summer it has small creamy blossoms and in winter is faintly brown against the sun.

LUNING, 129,6 m. (4,605 alt, 36 pop.), is a railroad stop and small trading center. In 1879 silver, lead, and copper properties were located a few miles east and northeast of town. The silver mines were worked until 1893 but copper-lead mining did not begin until 1906. During the World War the district was an active copper producer* At present the town seems little more than a store and service station, but it is a supply center and shipping point for the Nevada Brucite quarry 35 miles to the north.

Left from Luniog on a dirt road to RAWHIDE, 40 OT. a spectacular camp inspired by the Goldfield boom and the financial slump of 1907—plu§ one of the most amazing publicity build-ups in the history of mining. The hysteria of Goldfield had passed its zenith and the mines had settled down to rich production; but everyone who had missed out at Goldfield and Tonopah was sure that there were better fields yet for the seeking. Tex Rickard (see ahead) had just begun to learn the tricks of showmanship; Riley Grannan, the racetrack plunger and gambler of nation-wide reputation was ready for fresh excitement; Nat Goodwin, the most popular comedian of the day, who with his wife had been brought to Goldfield to inaugurate the elegant new theater, had caught the gold fever. A strike in this district in 1906 had brought a few prospectors and later strikes had assayed so spectacularly that someone decided it was another Gold- field. Rickard led the rush from Goldfield—though others were there before him, for in the Goldfield Review's special Rawhide number, brought out early in 1908, it was told that Rickard had paid $10,000 for the Rawhide lot on which he was building a duplicate of his Goldfiald Northern saloon. The paper also reported that the only post office as yet in the new camp was a tobacco-box on a post bearing a cow's tail, though the camp already had three banks that kept open till midnight. Goodwin joined the hullaballoo and the newspaper wires carried word that Grannan had scented good pickings and joined the crowd. Sober authorities say that in the course of three months 4,000 people rushed in, but the old-timers give the number as 10,000. Within another three months the trampled sagebrush was beginning to raise its head again. The camp did continue, however, and some $1,500,000 worth of gold, silver, copper, and lead were to come out of it in the course of 15 years.

During the high days of promotion, Elinor Glyn, whose book, Three Weeks, had recently been suppressed as immoral and become a best seller, arrived in Rawhide to seek more material on life in the raw. Though the decline had already begun, Rickard and others hastily put on an evening in Rawhide's Stingaree Gulch that was to surpass the lady's expectations and, through her accounts of it, bring a temporary rush of sensation seekers.

Another event of the brief ecstatic period was the death of Grannan—or rather his funeral. W. H. Knickerbocker, a former clergyman recently from California, was the only man on hand to conduct the funeral services. Knickerbocker's grandiloquent periods, his lush stock of poetical quotations, and his flare for oratory, united to produce a sermon that reduced the camp to maudlin tears. Riley himself formed only one of the subjects—Nature shared honors:

"God flings the auroral beauties 'round th« cold shoulders of the north'; hangs the quivering picture of the mirage above the palpitating heart of the desert; scatters the sunbeams like lamellated gold upon the bosoms of myriad lakes that gem the verdant robe of nature; spangles the canopy of night with star-jewels and silvers the world with the reflected beams from Cynthia's nielloxv face; hangs the goigeous crimson curtain of the Occident across the sleeping room of the sun; wakes the Coy Maid of Dawn to step timidly from her boudoir to climb the 8t"ps of the orient and fling wide-open the gates of the morning."

From MINA, 128 m. (4,552 alt, 400 pop.), (hotels, stores, service stations), roads radiate in all directions to mines in the rugged Pilot Mountains. This is the junction of the Southern Pacific Railroad's Hazen Branch and the Tonopah & Goldfield Railroad and until 1938 it was a terminal of the Southern Pacific narrow gauge branch line from California.

In this region severe earthquakes have been intermittently recorded for many years and 12 miles from the town is an earth fault with a ridge 2 feet high, created in 1932.

Right from Rhodes to CANDELARIA, 7 m., in a district where silver ore was discovered in 1864 by Mexicans. A year later its largest deposit was claimed but the discoverer did not develop it, and it was rediscovered 15 years later; this was the Northern Belle, which was to produce three-fourths of the $20,000,- ooo that came out of the district in the early years. This^ camp never died entirely; in the first two decades of the twentieth century it was to produce another $1,000,000 worth of ore—gold, lead, and copper, as well as silver.

Germans and Slavonians, well mixed with Americans, were ^ the principal boomers here and soon replaced most of the Mexicans. The boom stirred intensive prospecting of the near by country and resulted in the organization of the Belleville, Sodaville, Gar£eld, and Pamlico Districts, with some others of minor importance. The area was eventually served by the Carson & Colorado Railroad, a standard line, running between Mound House, near Virginia City and Mina, and a narrow gauge between Mina and Keeler, in Inyo County, California. Railroad construction brought many Chinese into the section, particularly around Sodaville. After a fire consumed one of their opium dens, incidentally roasting several drug-steeped Shoshone braves, whites, in the interests of peace, managed to spirit the proprietor out of town.

The highway proceeds south through treeless country in which borax deposite look like fields of flour. The most important of these borax fields is Columbus Marsh, located by "Borax" Smith and Eaton in 1864; the town of Columbus, now gone, was founded in 1865. In 1871 William Troop discovered ulescite here and soon four borax companies were at work. When the Pacific Borax Company moved to Fish Lake Valley in 1875, the town faded. Ten miles north of Columbus Marsh is Fish Lake Marsh, which drains into it. In this district Mott and Piper produced borax as early as 1873. In 1920 some development and prospecting work was done in an effort to find petroleum, but without success.

Teel's Marsh, also in the vicinity, has a salt deposit that was worked as early as 1867; the salt was shipped to the Comstock by camel train, and to the silver mills in Aurora on mule back. After borax was found there in 1873 a large plant was built; it was in operation for many years.

SODAVILLE, 147 m. (hot mineral baths), once the most important town between Reno and Tonopah, is now almost deserted. Before the railroad was carried to Tonopah, this was the point at which all freight for the town was unloaded—and also the place where most of the boomers transferred to stages for the slow, dusty trip across th«

desert One man said it was necessary to take a shovel at the end of ^the trip to discover which of his fellow-passengers was his wife. Night and day the railroad and stage officers here were hesieged by frantic people—mine owners trying to discover where machinery was, restaurant-keepers imploring priority for their perishable shipments. Swearing, sweating freight agents threatened to disappear forever.

Once in Sodaville an unthinking store-keeper suddenly appeared behind his counter garbed in a Hallowe'en mask and costume that had been ordered for the daughter of one of the prominent mining jtnen of the area. It was Saturday night, pay day, and the store was jammed' with Indians. What was intended as an innocuous joke proved to be the merchant's undoing. The terrified Indians fled in panic, not bothering to seek the door but plunged headlong through the window glass. Convinced that the Devil had appeared among them, they refused thereafter to enter the store.

Here, too, in 1904, "Two-Gun" Mike Kennedy, self-styled the toughest man that ever came out of the East, met his death. According to old-timers, Kennedy had bullied the camp for weeks; and on Saturday night he was cutting it wide and handsome when he ran into a' quiet and peaceable miner named James Lund, in from his diggings for a little drinking and fun. Lund, unarmed, called the braggart's, bluff, and Kennedy, inviting him to shoot it out, offered him one of his guns. The two men squared off in the center of the main street with the residents lined along the walks, and blazed away. The toughest man ever to emerge from the East fell with six bullets in his body, and the miner, unscratched, walked into a saloon for another drink.

COALDALE (gasoline}, 166.2 m.t is at the western junction with US 6 (see Tour 6£), which is united with US 95 between this point and a junction near Tonopah. Highly colored mountains (R) turn fiery at the end of day. The station was so named because of deposits of low grade coal in this area, discovered by William Groezinger, who mined 150 tons which he sold to the Columbia Borax works in 1894. The coal was mined again in 1911-12. Some turquoise were discovered in the district in 1909, and agate and chalcedony in 1910. About 1938 many placer claims were located, the land in the vicinity was taken up, and high hopes were held of extracting gold and quicksilver from the mud flats. For a time after mining experts had visited the discoveries it was believed there would be another boom, but little activity followed. At 169.2 m. is the junction with an improved road.

Right here across the desert is SILVER PEAK, 20 m. (4,307 alt), whose population has been increasing since about 1938 when new operations began. The town is on the edge of a sink in Clayton Valley on the eastern side of Silver Peak JRange. The camp has an air of bustling activity. Values were discovered here in 1864 and a jo-stamp mill was soon at work; then a jo-stamp mill was built in 1867, but the camp died within two years. In 1907 the Pittsburgh Silver Peak Gold Mining Company bought^ several properties, built a branch line down from the Tonopah and Goldfield Railroad, erected a ico-stamp and cyanide mill at Blair, the northern terminal, and the district was on its way to being one of the principal producers of low-grade ores in the State. Then for 10 years

With the last revival Silver Peak -wanted better school facilities, including a high school. Since both State and county contribute to support the local schools it was necessary to get consent from State authorities. According to the law, the State will not contribute to more than one high school within a radius of 40 miles—and the lot set aside for the high school site was 3854 railes from the high school in Goldfield. Very reluctantly the Silver Peak board agreed to put the school i$i miles beyond their town—if that "was the only way they could get it. And State authorities hastily looked around for a frame school building in some deserted camp to be moved in here. School opened, but in October a determined group went out one night and hauled the building to the central site previously selected, bringing it within the forbidden zone. Under pressure local authorities reluctantly fined the school movers—and then used the funds to stage a community Hallowe'en party.

At MILLERS, 191 m. (4,728 alt, 74 pop.), was the largest reduction plant (R) of the Tonopah Mining Company. Once one of the districts leading mills, it has been idle for a number of years except for lease operations on its tailings.

North of the highway east and west of Millers is the Monte Cristo Range, of a pink so fiery that it glows even at mid-day. It resembles the Dolomites of northern Italy—which have long attracted visitors from far countries—but in this land of wonderful color it receives very little attention.

US 95 climbs up into long, narrow TONOPAH, 205 m. (6,063 alt., 2,449 POP«)» (hotels and other modern facilities), which has had to spread out along the road and build tall buildings to keep out of the way of the mining operations on the flanks of steep Mount Butler (R) and equally steep Mount Oddie (L). This main street slants sharply* It is true there are some few parallel streets but they go only short distances before being blocked by workings. Tonopah has been saved from the fate of other great camps when production declined by its development as distributing center for a very large region; gasoline, machinery, blasting powder, whiskey, and foodstuffs are freighted out in all directions. It is also the seat of Nye County, by grace of its superior population and a very few miles of territory.

Tonopah is not merely a town and not merely the producer of $125,000,000. To almost every living Nevadan more than 40 years of age, Tonopah—with its lusty son Goldfield (see ahead)—stands for modern Nevada, for youth, excitement, hope, and the great adventure of a lifetime. It came into existence at a time when the mining West had long been going through hard times, when the population of the State was dwindling, when State finances were in a desperate condition, and hope was leaving all but those who remembered the days before 1880 and were sure they would return. When the great boom began here die whole State—and half of the West besides, as well as part of the East—came flocking in, driving over hot dusty miles of desert.

No great boom ever got under way in a more lackadaisical manner, It all began with a semi-literate rancher born in the mining country

of California during the Mother Lode boom. Such a man would naturally start out to look over any new strike in his neighborhood and was bound to chip off bits of rock wherever he happened to sit down. Jim Butler wandered down to look over the Southern Klondyke, which was discovered in 1899 at a point 14 miles south of this place. After camping overnight in this vicinity near what the Indians called Tonopah (Little Water), he had to spend some time hunting his burro. When he found the beast Butler sat down to rest before returning to pick up his kit. Near by was an outcrop; true to form, he examined it and hammered off a few likely looking pieces, as he had done thousands of times before. This was May 17, 1900. That evening he reached the Southern Klondyke where several men were doing development work with poor results. Butler was not interested. Before he left the diggings he asked Frank Hicks, a miner who knew how to do assays, to test his ore, offering him an interest in the future claim if it turned out well. Hicks threw it aside when Butler left; he was tired of doing free assays. When Butler went back to his home near Belmont (see Tour 6b)y he carried a few samples with him. Still having no money for an assay he took them to Tasker L. Oddie, a young New Jersey lawyer who had become Butler's successor as prosecuting attorney during his absence; Butler said the ore looked promising to him and offered Oddie a share if he could get the assay done. Oddie was new to the mining country, and Butler, as an old-timer, impressed him. He sent the sample to a friend he had made in Austin—the school superintendent who used his knowledge of chemistry to eke out a living by assaying, for rich old Austin had also fallen into bad times. The school-teacher, who was offered a share of Oddie's hypothetical share, did a conscientious job. He could not believe his eyes when he saw the size of the silver button, and thought that someone had been playing a trick on the greenhorn lawyer. Testing other samples, he found them even better than the first. The report went off by stage to Oddie, who sent a messenger to Butler.

The story is that Butler was too indifferent to do anything about the report; he was in the midst of haying. Perhaps, also, he had seen too many wild hopes based on a single assay. But Oddie talked and the assayer talked and soon there was a minor rush of prospectors—including the men of the Southern Klondyke—to stake out claims. Nobody knew exactly where to look; Jim had said he had camped at the spring and had walked some distance to find his burro. And he had not put up a location monument, which was fortunate as the time had already elapsed for doing the required development work to hold k. So the prospectors wandered about aimlessly.

In August Mrs. Butler managed to prod her husband to action, and to make sure that he really would establish his claim she drove down the hot valley with him. Oddie was too busy on legal work to go with them but one of the eight claims they staked was in his name; Mrs. Butler happened to stake the Mizpah, which was to be the richest producer of all the discovery claims. The problem then was to get

enough money together for supplies to feed the claimants during development work and to get another team to help carry the ore for shipment to a smelter. They were ready to start work in early October, with $25 worth of food; with them was one of the Southern Klondykers, Wilson Brougher, taken into the expedition for the sake of his wagon and mules.

The story is that Oddie and Brougher did the digging, with stout black-mustached Butler giving advice and Mrs. Butler doing the cooking. The first ore had to be hauled north to Austin for shipment but no one minded that after the smelter sent back $800 on the first ton. Other prospectors and miners had begun to gather and the Austin school superintendent, Walter Gayhart, laid out a town. Those who had tents were fortunate; those who did not slept in dugouts, under wagons, or on the ground. Within three months a mining man from Reno offered to lease the Mizpah for 10 months on a 25 per cent royalty basis. Butler liked the idea and when others appeared they were offered leases on near by claims, 112 in all. Among those who arrived—with demand for one-fourth interest, in the discovery claims —was Hicks, the Southern Klondyker who had refused to do the assay until after he had heard of the rich strike. Butler amiably gave him one-thirty-second share on the discovery claim. The leases were made verbally and the only book-keeping was the record of returns Oddie jotted down in a little note-book. It is doubtful whether any other industrial enterprise in history involving $4,000,000 was carried through purely on oral agreement—and without litigation.

By mid-summer of 1901 the town was developing rapidly but the problem of getting supplies in and ore out was becoming acute. Provisions often sold at fantastic prices and water, freighted four miles, sold for 25c a bucket. The only supplies that never seemed to fail were liquor; everyone started a saloon, even Butler. At the end of 1901 there was a lull, as leases ended at the beginning of the new year, and many who expected to renew them went away for vacations in places where they could spend their new wealth. About that time came what was called the Tonopah Sickness, apparently, since only the men were affected, a lung congestion induced by the high silicate content of the rock. Men died on all sides after a brief period of gasping, and those not yet ill fled from the place.

In the fall of 1901 Philadelphia interests bought the eight discovery, claims for about $350,000, organized the Tonopah Mining Company, and made Oddie manager. A little later the Tonopah-Belmont Company, the Jim Butler, the North Star, the Montana-Tonopah, and the Tonopah Extension were organized, and regular freight and stage service to Sodaville was established.

The real rush to Tonopah came in 1902. The town grew fast. And quite as many people came to view the phenomenal new town as had business interests or work in it. There was even an Opera House by the spring of 1903.

whole world seemed to be rushing to the camps—eastern industrialists and financiers, miners and prospectors from Alaska, South Africa, and all places in between; actors, journalists, engineers, and a fine assortment of speculators, gambleis, and other camp followers. Even Wyatt Earp, Tombstone's notable sheriff, arrived to stait a saloon. The Tonopah & Goldfield Railroad began to lay tracks across the desert from Sodaville, reaching Tonopah on July 24, 1904.

All Goldfield—as well as the governor and his wife—came down to welcome the first train and help Tonopah celebrate in style, with a white-robed beauty queen christening the first locomotive with champagne. The queen and her court rode in the parade on a float provided by the Elks and were followed by the Tonopah Volunteer Firemen in full regalia. Drilling contests, long and noisy, were held and everyone drank to Tonopah, the greatest camp on earth—except the Goldfielders, who had their own candidate for the position.

Tonopah was an unusually orderly camp; prospectors had made it and prospectors ran it. Spirits were high but order was maintained. Indeed, residents had some difficulty satisfying the yearning of visitors who had been brought up on Buffalo Bill and Nick Carter; the visitors expected a shooting daily on every street corner and were bitterly disappointed when none took place. Otherwise honest residents were driven to magnifying minor disturbances, and when a surface blast went off at a mine would agree that there had been "a shooting".

Long before this the Crystal Water Company had brought plenty of water to the town and the old sign in a saloon that had a small washtub—"First chance $i, second chance $.50, all others $.25"—had gone. Moreover, society was organized. Young men arriving to work in banks and mining offices with clothes they considered suitable to a remote camp, hastily wired or wrote for formal attire; dinners and dances in such clothes were nightly events. Tables were decorated with flowers sent in from California and no banquet was complete without oysters, quail, and champagne.

Great rendezvous of the men was the Tonopah Club, a saloon and also a gathering place where news was exchanged; there was always plenty of excitement in the form of play for big stakes. At first the gambling was merely at stud poker and faro without a license. Then a cowboy from Oregon persuaded the club's proprietor to let him regularize the game and under his license set a limit, so there was no danger of the bank's being broken. By the time Tonopah had become a city the club had extensive quarters, complete with mahogany bar and the usual art.

Production reached its all-time high of $9,500,000 in 1913; the next year it was $500,000 less. In 1921 it was down to $5,500,000, but at that it had four mines listed among the 25 largest silver producers in the country. Gradually one mine after the other closed or was turned over to leasers, and by 1930 the population had decreased to a little more than 2,000. In 1940 all operations were on leases. A fire in the timbering of one of the mines put 7s; men out of work but the

Close to the edge of the main street at the western end of town is the KIRCHEN CAIRN (R), holding the ashes of John Kirchen, who was general manager of the Tonopah Extension and predicted a rich find near this spot.

The yellow, stone NYE COUNTY COURTHOUSE (L), high oa a bluff at the eastern end of town, contains many valuable records, including those from early Belmont.

The TONOPAH CLUB (R), in the center of town, is still in business; part of its quarters is now occupied by a restaurant and stakes are no longer spectacular.

This section of US 95 cuts sharply south, then west to the southeastern corner of the State, crossing no high passes. Gradually, as the route proceeds southward, it comes into desert with flora typical of the Southwest, particularly beautiful in the spring of a wet year; then the vivid orange and red of desert blooms cover the valleys. Even on the hottest summer days snow-capped peaks along the California boundary are visible most of the distance.

US 95 continues the climb started in TONOPAH, 0 m.» to a low divide where it turns southward with vast plains and high-ranges in view.

At about 14 m. a distinct change in the vegetation is noted; northward is the sagebrush zone, southward the creosote bush. Occasional cacti and Joshua trees appear, odd sentinels of the desert. The line of demarcation between the zones is so sharp that in this area not a single piece of sagebrush is found within a few hundred feet south of it and not a creosote bush a hundred feet north.

GOLDFIELD 26 m. (5,689 alt., 513 pop.), (tourist-camp, gas- oline, restaurant), sits high on one side of a broad saddle between bare brown peaks. Seen from the highway, this fabulous town is drearier than a graveyard—for no one expects anything of the dead and Gold- field is not a ghost. Fifty-two city blocks of the lower part of the city are covered with brush, crumbling, windowless walls, tilted fireplugs, bits of scrap iron—the results of a fire in 1923. Above this waste on a plateau are remnants of the old city, the 2OO-room hotel now boarded up—the big stone crenellated courthouse, the two stone schools—one boarded up—low comfortable houses with stiff joshua-trees before their doors, and a few of the older business buildings where stock-broken* formerly did business all night long and fortunes were made and lost daily. Outside county and civic officials, most of the remaining people are householders who live on their savings, positive that Goldfielc? will come back again. It is impossible, they say, that the limited operations exhausted the vast supply of jewelry ore; that a tunnel driven

just a little farther will not unlock new deposits of the kind that turned half of America to hysterical speculation. More people than live here share this belief; they refused to sell their Goldfield homes when it was still possible to do so at a profit, and they continue to maintain their property and protect it by having an elderly relative or pensioner live in it.

Goldfield was the lusty son of Tonopah. Without Tonopah and the crowds it brought in, the Shoshone, Tom Fisherman, might have found no one to pay attention to the specimen he had found a few miles to the south of the great silver camp; and without Tonopah and the money it had given him, Tom Kendall, proprietor of the Tonopah Club, would not have been able to grub-stake Billy Marsh and Harry Stimler—a half-breed who later became the professional "Indian prospector"—to look for the place from which Fisherman had taken his rock. Nor without Tonopah and the crowds it had brought would there have been many people to take an interest in this place where the first ore assayed only $12.60 to the ton. Marsh and Stimler staked their first claim on December 4, 1902. In spite of the low assay value, the discoverers were interested from the first, for they had found gold in a silver State; this was going to beat Tonopah and so, with a mining camp pun on the relationship of the two camps, they named this the Grandpa. It happened that at this time Tonopah was experiencing the usual let-down after the first excited boom; too many mining companies with over-capitilization had been set up and some of the later claims were not developing well. More men had arrived than the mines needed for work Marsh and Stimler's next ore was a little better than the first and with a new grubstake from Tonopah they did development on the 19 claims they had staked. Other grub stakers joined them in the late spring of 1903—as sure as two men do hard work on any set of claims, some others are sure to prospect in their vicinity. Among the newcomers were Al Myers and a man named Murphy; Myers had both practical and theoretical knowledge of minerals and after looking around he selected what was to be the Combination—richest of all. A few more men arrived and Marsh and Stimler, who had to let some of the claims lapse for lack of a further grubstake, obligingly pointed out likely spots to the late comers. Charles Taylor accepted the advice and claimed the Jumbo, one of the first claims Marsh and Stimler had located; it was to give him $1,250,000.

Then rich ore was found here in October and the shipment made in December fired the fuse. Next a claim was sold for $10,000 to influential George S. Nixon and everyone who was not already in on the big money at Tonopah, and also some who were, set out for these slopes —riding, walking, limping, Stimler had sold his half over Marsh's protest but Marsh sold his share for $25,000 within a few weeks— and gave up mining forever. Taylor had tried to sell his Jumbo and another claim for $150 and had only hung on because he could not sell.

Eleven men who were early on the spot contributed $10 each to survey a townsite on the level section where the remaining large

buildings now stand. The story of the sensational real estate boom of the next few months rivals anything Florida ever produced. Some lots at one time sold for $4.5,000 apiece.

With the arrival of experts retained by important eastern interests excitement became hysteria; claims covered the country for miles and presses could hardly keep up with the issues of stock. Soon ore was being uncovered of such richness that men who had not been able to get in on rich claims were willing to work at any ^ wage in order to go underground and walk off with a few chunks daily. One man with luck could secrete several hundred dollars worth on a single shift. This practice, never before particularly prevalent in Nevada camps, which mostly mined silver or gold in combination with other metals, had been developed to a high degree in Colorado camps, and large numbers of experienced Coloradans had joined the stampede to Goldfield.

Numerous fences appeared to take over the purloined ore and it was the miners with plenty of money who gave Goldfield its reputation as a great spending town.

High-grading was to bring on one of the sensational incidents of Goldfield history. As the interests and work became better organized the big producers determined to put an end to the high-grading and ordered change-rooms established where all workers should leave their work clothes. The miners were indignant and talk ran high. The town's labor was highly organized but unions could not very well call a strike to maintain the right to steal- I.W.W. organizers—Wobblies— were on hand to stir up threats of violence. The miners, however, had some legitimate grievances. The panic of 1907 had suspended specie payments and the men were being paid in script—a particular insult when they were bringing up gold in quantities beyond imagination. Moreover, not all miners were high-graders and prices of commodities had not fallen much below those of the boom days. Feeling was running so high that some of the owners became frightened and persuaded the governor to ask President Theodore Roosevelt for troops. General Funston came up immediately from California and set up a camp overlooking the mines. After a few days he reported that the town was quiet and he was not needed. A Federal commission arrived to investigate on December 15, 1907. In the meantime the operators had set a wage scale at $3.50 a day for unskilled labor and up to $5 for skilled, ordered a 20 per cent reduction in commodity prices in the town and threatened that it would set up commissaries if the cuts were not made by the retailers. The railroad had reached Goldfield two j^ears earlier so prices should have dropped long before. The commission confirmed Funston's report that troops were not needed and the President ordered their recall; after violent protests by the mine operators two companies were left until a State police force could be organized. With the troops in town and plenty of men out of work as a result of the stock market panic, it was easy to find strike breakers. Following various concessions on both sides of the controversy the troops left on March 7, 1908, but their place was taken by the Nevada State Police,

With the mines operating in three shifts, production reached its peak in 1910, paying more than $11,000,000.

Long before this, however, the town had developed stable social circles. The elegance of Tonopah was quite out-distanced; parties of all kinds were frequent and lavish and when the new theater was opened the town engaged Nat Goodwin and Edna Goodrich, most popular comedy team of the day, for its opening. For lustier souls there was the Northern Saloon, run by Tex Rickard, who had made a fortune in a Klondyke saloon, lost it in California, and came here with the gold strike. The length of the bar and the number of tenders —80 of the latter, the tale is—are still spoken of with pride by old- timers.

In 1906 someone had conceived the idea that a major prizefight would focus attention on the town and the Gans-Nelson fight was arranged. Rickard, who had been studying publicity technique, had charge. "The Battle of the Century" took place on September 6, with all the bally-hoo imaginable. The town of 20,000 held several times as many people for a few days before the 42-round fight from which Cans emerged as world lightweight champion.

In 1910 the town had reached such a metropolitan peak that it was determined to build a hotel worthy of its position; the result was the building that still stands. But at the end of that year production began to decline from its all-time high of more than $11,000,000. By 1912 it had dropped ofi nearly $5,000,000. Insiders were beginning to pull out though most of the people did not recognize the signs. In 1918 the mines did not produce $1,500,000 and the following year there was a 40 per cent decrease. Within three years less than $150,000 came from the mills.

This town, in a high bare saddle, has the intense sunlight that quickly gives some kinds of glass the righ purple tinge frequently seen in the Southwest; even the headlights of old motor cars have a lavender cast.

The GOLDFIELD HOTEL is a high brick structure with an ornate recessed entrance. Woodwork in the lobby is of mahogany and behind the desk is a series of strong-boxes befitting a jewelry ore town. Thick flowered carpets still cover the floors of suites that rented in the first year, when the town had several thousand transients at a time, for $20 a day. Brass beds, heavy leathered-covered chairs, and lambre^ quined shades on lamps remain as reminders of the past. Champagne corks by the dozens still cover the shelf above the great mirror in ^ the bar. Champagne ran across the lobby and down the steps the night the hotel was opened.

The grim, greenish-yellow ESMERALDA COUNTY COURTHOUSE holds records of great interest to patient researchers.

As US 95 sweeps down from Goldfield Joshuas are seen in large numbers, bushier and taller with each mile toward the south. Their creamy blossoms among the sharp, dark spines in spring always provide a surprise-

The vista at about SO m. is memorable. The road is a sharp line across a vast undulating plain that sweeps to tawny foothills, and ranges blue in the distance- Yet not a mile of the way affords a view precisely like that before or ahead. One range with rounded peaks is deep brown, patched with purple where washes have been cut; another is sharply peaked and streaked with rose, green, and deep red. Even in the winter the brush covering has a tinge of yellow and low running plants with red stems near the road look like a planted border.

US 95 continues southeastward with the snow-capped ranges gleaming to the south. Remote and austere, they seem to belong to another world.

Right on this road into the GRAPEVINE MOUNTAINS, crossing the California Line, 15 »„ and a boundary of Death Valley National Monument, 4.5 miles north of Scotty's Castle.

Not far south of the junction the highway dips and the far blue mountains, with their summits looking like piles of blue fog on the horizon, drop behind brown ranges. The desert flora becomes steadily greener, the mountains less barren, though there is still no sign of trees in any direction. Paiute Mesa (L) is a roughly eroded and brightly tinted tableland.

BEATTY, 92.4 m. (3,392 alt, 200 pop.), catering to Death Valley visitors, is the terminus of the Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad, and a supply base for mining camps. On the banks of the Amargosa River which flows mostly underground, Beatty is one of the delightful small centers of die State. The white limbs of cottonwoods and sun-bleached sheen of old timbers blend into the wide dusty side streets. Wooden awnings hang far out over side walks and provide shelter from the brilliant sun. In 1906 Beatty became a freighting point for the Bullfrog Mining District, first explored in 1904 by Frank Harris and Ernest Cross. Although the center of mining activity was at Rhyolite, 5 miles west, Beatty handled most of the freight and traffic and proudly called itself "the Chicago of Nevada".

At the O'BfiiBN HOUSE is a fine collection of ore specimens gathered from many parts of the world. Behind and around the house are old vines that bear delicious grapes. North of town is the Panhandle ranch, owned by Lawrence P. Kimball, a grandson of Heber C. Kim- ball, Brigham Young's right-hand man. This ranch is one of the largest in this part of the State.

Right from Beatty over paved Nev. 58 to a junction, 6 m.; R. here 2 m. to RHYOLITE, from 1905 to 1908 a city of 8,000. So promising wert the first assays on the ore, so loud was the publicity on Nevada bonanzas following the Goldfield stampede, that many who bought land and stock here believed that Rhyolite would be ^another Virginia City. Though the mines produced approximately $3,000,000, it was discovered that the rich reins and ledges were superficial and many of the substantial buildings, of brick and concrete, erected in the belief of a long future, were soon torn down or left to disintegration. Though at the height of the boom two railroads tntertd the town, the only evidence of them today is the ruins of one elaborate depot, now open at intervals

as a casino to attract visitors from Death Valley. Notable among the ruins is the BOTTLE HOUSE, whose walls were built of quart beer bottles, laid horizontally, and integrated with adobe. Victorian jigsaw frills hang from the eaves of the gabled roof, and a dried coyote from one gable end. Since 1939 this has been a free museum of desert relics whose owner depends on the sale of curios for support. Around the house is an amazing garden; among pieces of glass purpled by the strong sunshine, bits of unusual rock, old cart wheels, figures from toyshops, old mortars, and what-not are many kinds of cactus and small delicate desert flowers.

Nev. 58 continues into a tiny corner of Death Valley National Monument and crosses die California Line, 13 m.f at a point 14 miles north of Furnace Creek Junction.

At Beatty, US 95 turns L. and skirts the western base of Bare Mountains, a stratified and faulted range, of solid stone from base to summit. In its richness and variety of colors this range is one of the most impressive in the State. The route lies along the Amargosa Desert, in view of high mountains hemming Death Valley. The highway again takes a straight line across a vast desert floor where creosote bush, cactus, and yucca grow. Against a great blue range, (R) at 110 m.j is a group of cream-colored hills that look like piles of shifting sand; and on the opposite side of the highway is an alkali expanse blindingly white.

CARRARA (L), 101.9 m.f is a camp once supported by Carrara marble quarried on the southwest flank of Bear Mountain, about 3 miles to the north. The town was formerly a station on the Tonopah & Tidewater Railroad. Large quantities of white, gray, black, and blue marble of fine quality have been found—some of the white marble of the statuary grade.

Right here to cross the California Line, 17 m., at a point 7A miles north of Death Valley Junction.

INDIAN SPRINGS, 168.5 m. (3,100 alt.), was for many years a stage stop, an oasis by warm springs in the desert. Today it is a gasoline station and an unusually attractive tourist camp near a large dude ranch.

South of Indian Springs US 95 crosses a broad valley. After passing the Pintwater and Desert Ranges (L), the highway goes down a long valley that heads straight for Las Vegas. Directly across the valley (R) is Charleston Peak (11,910 alt.) in the Nevada National Forest

At 178 m. is the junction with paved Nev. 52, part of a loop route through the Charleston Mountain section of the Nevada National Forest (best followed from lower junction for sake of views; particularly spectacular vistas toward end of day).

Right on this road, which begins amon^ cacti, yucca, creosote bush, and other desert flora, and within a few miles is in the upper plant and animal zones. At 17 «., among coniferi, is the junction with an improved road; R. (straight ahead) at this point 0.3 m. to the McWILLIAMS CAMPGROUND (simple iadltkes) and CAMP PITTMAN (L) in Lee Canyon. Here amoag ewgreens and aapens are dormitories and other facilities providing not only t summer

camping place for the children of Las Vegas but also a lodge for winter sportsmen. Ski slopes of all kinds and a ski-jump are near by. Even when the temperature at Las Vegas goes above 100° during the mid-day, three blankets are needed here at night. The public campsites are above Camp Pittman and there is plenty of room for parking cars and trailers. Only^ a caretaker is at the children's camp in winter, but bunks and stoves are available to visitors. The road is being extended across the Charleston Range into Pahrump Valley.

The road branching L. at 17 m. becomes the main side route, crossing the mountain side with many views of the desert and of the distant bare Sheep Mountains through low hanging evergreens. The variety of the flora and fauna on this mountain makes the range a happy hunting ground for zoologists and botanists, professional as well as amateur. Mule deer, mountain sheep, bobcats, lynx, foxes, badgers, porcupines, and other animals are native, and elk, antelope, sage hens, and blue grouse are being introduced. Birds are particularly numerous, and more than 400 plant species have been counted, some of them hitherto unknown. Above the ponderosa pine belt are pure stands of the rare foxtail pine, some of them seven feet in diameter. Toward timberline the trees are bent and gnarled from their long battle with the winds. At about 24 m. is DEER CREEK CAMPGROUND, by a short stream for which it was named; this is the only year-round stream on the range, though there are numerous springs.

At 27 m. is a fork; R. here 4.5 m. into KYLE CANYON, where a delightful lodge provides meals and rooms. The lodge is slightly beyond a ranger station (information) and public campsites. This is also a popular winter sports center, with various types of runs below Cathedral Rock. Many summer cottages are in the neighborhood.

Left from the lodge on a 3-mile trail that circles Cathedral rock and ascends the bare face of CHARLESTON PEAK (11,910 alt.).

At the fork the circular route bears L., becoming Nev. 39, and descends to the valley and the junction with US 95, 41 m. (see ahead).

South of its junction with Nev. 52, US 95 continues through the broad valley between the Charleston and Sheep Ranges. Bare and uninhabited as most of the ranges m this region seem to be, there are not many that do not show at least a few monuments of prospectors. Hundreds of men have sweated up and down hunting for promising ledges, though very few of them have ever made much profit, even when they had a lucky strike. Usually they are so much in need of a few dollars that they are willing to sell to the first person who is interested. Only a rare man has money enough for more than first development, and, curiously, though they are always enthusiastic about their strikes, few have enough faith in them to choose to sell on a royalty basis, rather than outright, for cash. Just the same they have a deep contempt for the men who bring their discoveries to success. A hoary but ever popular story among prospectors concerns a geologist, a mining engineer, and a mining promoter who were out hunting. According to the story, they eventually reached tracks; then the party divided, the geologist back-tracking to find where the game had const from, the engineer following the tracks forward, and the promoter going back to town for a truck to carry out the animal after it was shot.

Left on this road into the bare Sheep Mountains; the road wine** In and out among canyons, and brown slopes sparsely covered with vegetation, if with any at all. A sudden turn brings the unimproved road to the HIDDEN FOREST, 27 77iv a stand of beautiful evergreens.

By a cactus garden at 192 m. is the junction with Nev. 39 (see before). With eroded cliffs on the Charleston Range, mottled a brilliant red, continually nearer, US 95 is suddenly among ranchlands, where cottonwoods indicate the lines of irrigation ditches.

LAS VEGAS, 207 m. (2,033 alt., 10,000 pop.) (see Tour 3*), is at junctions with US 91 (see Tour 3) and US 93-466 (see Tour 5^).

US 95, which is united with US 93-466 (see Tour 5^) southeast of Las Vegas, swings away from the other routes, 0 m., at a point 4.9 miles southwest of Boulder City and on the edge of the Boulder Dam Recreational Area. US 95 crosses a vast dry lake and an area sparsely covered with cactus, creosote bush, and yucca, running parallel to the Colorado River but separated from it by the Eldorado Range.

Left on this road to ELDORADO, 10 m.t sometimes called Nelson, Spaniards are said to have discovered valuable minerals in this part of Eldorado Canyon about 1775, but 100 years passed before an expedition came up from Mexico to develop the discovery—only to find it already being worked by the Eldorado Mining Company. The Mexicans had a map, which they said the discoverers had drawn, exactly designating the TECHATTICUP MINE, richest producer in the camp. The district had been rediscovered in 1857, and organized as the Colorado in 1861. The district has produced two to five million in gold, silver, copper and lead.

According to one of several conflicting stories, in the summer of 1874. John Nash, organizer of the Eldorado Company, decided to jump the adjacent Queen City claim and employed three desperados to help him. He promised them $5,000 each if they would hold it for a certain period of time. Nash's plan was to hire the gunmen, make a secret arrangement with one of them to kill the others after he had acquired the claim, then kill off this man himself to cover up the transaction. When the owner of the Queen City sent a man to do the annual development work required to keep the claim, the fellow was frightened out of the country. One of the three desperadoes was a Jim Harrington, who had at least three dead men on his record; the second was a murderer known as William Piette; the third was a half-breed, Jim Jones. Early one morning, while Jones was washing his face and had soap in his eyes, Piette stepped up quietly and shot him in the back. Jones seized the heavy powder-keg serving as a wash-basin and knocked Piette down. Then running to his bunk he grabbed a gun and shot Piette, who had followed him to complete the job. Thereupon Jones fled to Piette's cabin and took his Winchester rifle; leaving a trail of blood as he ran, he fled into the hills. The word that reached Eldorado insinuated that Jones had attacked Piette and a posse went after him. Jones hid in a prospect hole about four feet deep but was discovered by the trail of blood.

Everybody in camp joined the chase and mining operations were suspended. All day under a hot and blinding sun, Jones held the posse off—and all that night The next morning he resolved to carry the fight to his enemies but was too weak to climb out of the hole; another day and night passed before he put his handkerchief on his gun as a sign of surrender. A man named Tom Johnson was the first to reach the hole. There was the unconquerable Jones, his eyes blood-shot, his lips swollen and cracked by thirst his clothes matted with blood. He begged for water but Johnson sent a bullet into the half-breed's forehead and the rest of the men covered the body with earth.

Nash got the Queen City, but it bore a bad reputation, and Nash himself was afraid to be caught near it after dark; he once swore that the ghost of Jim

Not far from Eldorado, early in 1940, a prospector noticed a man-made barricade in front of a shallow cave in the face of a high canyon wall. Investigating, he discovered the skeleton of an Indian; near by were a loaded shotgun, a bow, steel-tipped arrows, bullet-moulds, and other odds and ends. Las Vegans summoned to take charge of the bones easily identified them as the remains of an Indian named Quejo who for more than 10 years was the terror of Clark County people living in remote places. There are contradictory stories about Quejo's origin and early years; one is that he was a Paiute and the other that he belonged to an Arizona tribe I t lived for a time among the Paiute near Las Vegas. There are also contradictory stories about when his career as a public enemy began. One tale is that his first victim was a Paiute who was murdered in some intra-tribal row over the methods used by a medicine man; shortly thereafter Quejo attacked Hi Bohn of Las Vegas and broke both his arms "with a pole-pick. After this affair he fled into the mountains southwest of Las Vegas. Another tale blames his blood-thirsty career on the fact that he had been ordered by authorities to track down one of his brothers who was a killei and bring back his head as proof of the punishment.

At any event his known history begins in 1910 when he killed a wood-cuttei for his supplies; shortly afterward he killed the guard of the Gold Bug mine near Eldorado. During his public career he was definitely linked to certain crimes by his tracks, which had unusual characteristics. For some years after these initial killings his trail was obscured, though he was blamed for the disappearance of several lone prospectors and miners. Then in 1919 Quejo attempted to steal food from the home of Ned Douglas near Eldorado and shot the miner's wife when she walked into the kitchen. This killing of a woman roused high feeling and the men who had trailed him in 1910 took up the chase again. The trail led up the Colorado to St. Thomas, now buried by the northern arm of Lake Mead, across to the Arizona side of the river, and back down the Nevada side to this region. Near St. Thomas two prospectors had been killed in savage style; two days later two men and two boys were found murdered on the opposite side of the river near Black Canyon. Seven killings in all took place in this period with Quejo's footprints showing quite clearly on the ground near the bodies. Some people said the Indian killed for food, some for other supplies; but a man who knew him laid that Quejo was too expert in the capture of game to kill from hunger. Sometimes he took the shoes of his victims.

Numbers of men from Arizona as well as Nevada spent months following his tracks; the sheriff of Clark County was close to him on several occasions, once or twice finding camp-fires not y«t cold. One evening when there was evidence that the killer was near, the sheriff found himself in a box canyon as night fell; and the chance seemed so good that the Indian would be the winner rather than the loser in the game of hide-and-seek that the sh«riff carefully wrote his name on the cliff abpre the spot where he lay down to spend the night, to enable easy identification of his body if he should not see the light of day again. But the Indian disappeared and there was no clue on what had happened to him until his bones were found.

US 95 proceeds to SEARCHLIGHT, 37 m. (3,560 alt, 192 pop.), near the Opal Mountains and surrounded by a desert of mesquite and cactus^ According to legend, this camp was named by two brothers who, lighting a fire here in 1898, took inspiration from the name of their box of matches. In that year a camp grew up on what is now the Searchlight claim of the Duplex Mine. In the early period one claim,

later producing more than $1,000,000 was sold for $1,500, a team of mules, a buckboard, and a double-barreled shotgun. Another that produced $150,000 changed hands for a pint of whiskey. The district has produced nearly $2,000,000 worth of ores, principally gold, and at least one lump of turquoise weighing 320 carats.

Searchlight reached its height in 1906 but was active for another 14 years, and some work still goes on. It had 38 saloons on its principal street during its boom days. Like Eldorado, it was a lawless camp, though now and then gun-fights gave way to gentler pastimes. On July 4, 1902, for instance, there was a burro fight. Two jack burros, noted for their courage, were brought in; thousands of dollars besides various mining claims were wagered on the outcome of their scrap. One of the burros, the property of a "desert rat/* was named Thunder, the other, a lean, lanky beast, was Hornet. Thunder and Hornet squared off on a level area below the camp and raised a dust cloud visible for miles. Thunder had the best of it in the early going, but after Hornet got his second wind he plied his heels and teeth so well that he chased Thunder into the desert. Thereupon the men collected their wagers and went to the saloons for the usual celebration.

Right from Searchlight into McCullough Range passing through an extensive Joshua forest. At 7 m. is the elaborately equipped ranch of Rex Bell, former cowboy actor, and his wife, Clara Bow. Above the ranch rises Crescent Peak (6,016 alt)* CRESCENT, 24 m.t is in a mining district where turquoise was discovered in 1894 by an Indian known as Prospector Johnnie. A year later a New Yorker began operations as the Toltec Gem Company. Two other turquoise discoveries have been made in the neighborhood and small amounts of silver, lead, copper, and other metals have been produced. Prehistoric workings were found during development with ancient stone hammers still lying about.

US 95 continues southward through Paiute Valley and crosses the CALIFORNIA LINE, 61.5 m., at a point about 30 miles north of Needles, Calif.