e/lNNALSof

WYOMING

Volume 53, Number 1 Spring, 1981

THE WYOMING STATE ARCHIVES, MUSEUMS AND HISTORICAL DEPARTMENT

The function of the Wyoming State Archives, Museums and Historical Department is to collect and preserve materials which tell the story of Wyoming. It maintains the state's historical library and research center, the Wyoming State Museum and branch museums, the State Art Gallery and the State Archives. The Department solicits original records such as diaries, letters, books, early newspapers, maps, photographs and art and records of early businesses and organizations as well as artifacts for museum display. The Department asks for the assistance of all Wyoming citizens to secure these documents and artifacts. Depart- ment facilities are designed to preserve these materials from loss and deterioration.

WYOMING STATE LIBRARY, ARCHIVES AND HISTORICAL BOARD

Mrs. Suzanne Knepper, Buffalo, Chairman

Dave Paulley, Cheyenne

Mrs. Wilmot C. McFadden, Rock Springs

Eugene Martin, Evanston

Jerry Rillahan, Worland

Mrs. Mae Urbanek, Lusk

Ken Richardson, Lander

Frank Bowron, Casper

Attorney General Steven H. Freudenthal (ex-officio)

ABOUT THE COVER — The cover painting of Fort Fred Steele was executed in the 1870s by Phillipe Denis De Trobriand. De Trobriand was a Frenchman of noble birth who had been educated at the College of Tours and awarded a law degree from Poitiers. He toured the U.S. in 1841, married an American woman, then went back to France for several years. In 1847, he returned to this country to live permanently. During the Civil War, taken with "... a cause that had immortalized Lafayette, " he became a citizen of the U.S. and as- sumed command of a group of Union volunteers as a general. After that conflict, he served as a colonel in the regular army. He was assigned to Dakota, Montana, Utah and Wyoming in the course of his military career. A diarist, poet, and novelist, De Trobriand was also a gifted amateur painter. Everywhere in his travels he saw subjects for pictures — his sketches and paintings include works on Indians, landscapes and Western military structures. Both in his journals and art works, De Trobriand revealed a remarkable perceptiveness of the world around him. He was sensitive to the people he encountered and to the environment in which he found them. De Trobriand's literary and artistic endeavors serve not only as aesthetic expressions of life in the American West a hundred years ago, but as valuable historical documents that provide a realistic, accurate picture of that lifestyle. The cover painting and a companion piece were purchased by the Wyoming State Art Gallery with funds contributed by members of the Wyoming State Historical Society.

c4

NNALS of WYOMING

Volume 53, No. 1 Spring, 1981

GOVERNOR OF WYOMING

Ed Herschler

DIRECTOR

Dr. Michael J. Boyle

CO-EDITORS

William H. Barton Philip J. Roberts

ASSISTANT EDITORS

James R. Laird Timothy Cochrane

EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS

Jean Brainerd Klaudia Stoner Kathy Martinez

TABLE OF CONTENTS

BOOM TOWNS ON THE UNION PACIFIC: Laramie,

Benton and Bear River City 2

by Emmett D. Chisum

THE NAVAL OIL RESERVE, TEAPOT DOME AND THE

CONTINENTAL TRADING COMPANY 14

by Paul H. Giddens

ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO CHUCKLE OVER:

Newspaper Humor in the Old West 28

by Robert G. Keller

WYOMING'S FIRST COAL RAILROAD 34

by Mel McFarland t

BROADWAY IN COW COUNTRY: The History of ^'^ ^

Cheyenne Little Theatre (Part II) , . n(^ (._. . 38

by Lou Burton ^ '^^ -^T-

ROVING OVER THE WILDS OF WYOMING .V. .....'. ?. ^^49

by Margaret E. Nielsen

EDISON, THE ELECTRIC LIGHT AND THE ECLIPSE 54

by Philip J. Roberts

WSHS ANNUAL MEETING 62

BOOK REVIEWS 66

INDEX 70

CONTRIBUTORS 72

Annals of Wyoming is published biannually in the Spring and Fall. It is received by all members of the Wyoming State Historical Society as the official publication of that organization. Copies of previous and cur- rent issues may be purchased from the Co-Editors. Correspondence should be addressed to the Co-Editor5. Published articles represent the views of the author and are not necessarily those of the Wyoming State Archives, Museums and Historical Department or the Wyoming State Historical Society. ANNALS OF WYOMING articles are abstracted in Historical Abstracts. America: History and Life.

Library

©Copyright 1981 by the Wyoming State Archives, Museums linH'Tiistorica I Department.

University of Wyoming

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Benton, Wyoming, U

By Emmett D. Chisum

As construction of the Union Pacific entered Wyo- ming, local inhabitants were apprehensive about the de- termination of division points along the Union Pacific line. These decisions by Union Pacific officials would determine the futures of Cheyenne, Laramie, Rawlins, Evanston and Green River. A number of followers of the railroad construction crews would stay in these division - point towns, find useful occupations and contribute to the growth of the communities. Others would move from one construction site to another in their portable houses and tents, leaving few signs of the boom towns that were once at the end of the track.

Construction of the Union Pacific was authorized by an Act of Congress in 1862, but progress was interrupted by the Civil War and only 40 miles of track had been completed by 1865. Following the war there were no dif- ficult problems in obtaining workers and materials, and with the appointment of General Grenville M. Dodge as chief engineer, considerable progress was made in the construction of the line across the plains of Nebraska.'

Jack Casement and his tracking crew reached Chey- enne on November 13, 1867. On November 14, a vast assemblage of citizens and a brass band flocked to the Cheyenne Station to celebrate the arrival of the railroad. Eddy Street and the city hall were well lighted for the oc- casion, and a large transparent banner near the speakers stand bore the mottoes, "The Magic Town Greets the Continental Railway," "Honor to Who Honor is Due," and "Old Casement We Welcome You."^

Work continued in the Laramie Mountains during the winter, and 30 miles west of Cheyenne the town of Dale City was established by construction workers, tiemen and wood choppers. The Cheyenne vigilantes drove some of the undesirable elements out of their town, and they, too, came to Dale City.^

The survey of the town of Laramie was made in the fall of 1867, and when the Union Pacific commenced the sale of lots in April of 1868, there were several hun- dred people on the town site waiting to obtain title to the lots by the railroad in order to build their future homes. Within the first week over 400 lots were sold and within the next month, construction on buildings had started.

The walls of the early buildings were constructed of logs or condemned railroad ties, and the roofs were of can- vas.''

In spite of the pleasant location of Laramie, the Cheyenne Daily Leader questioned the future status of Laramie:

But it is supposed that Laramie will be restored to its ancient and unbroken quiet except perhaps for the disturb- ing sound of a locomotive? Of great expectations is the town of Wyoming which is destined to supercede Laramie and become a candidate for the national capitol.* According to the notes left by Edward Ivinson, pioneer Laramie banker, there was a concerted effort made to locate the division point of the railroad at Wyo- ming, at the time known as Two Rivers. The place was about ten miles north of Laramie where the Big and Lit- tle Laramie Rivers unite. According to Ivinson, he fur- nished the financial aid to build the first courthouse which helped to make Laramie a division point. ^

On May 9 an army of workers stretched the iron rails across the town and headed for the plains beyond. The following day the first train arrived and it brought with it as diverse a collection of humanity and merchandise as ever was seen on the plains. There were cars loaded with merchandise, such as groceries, liquors, gambling out- fits, hardware and house-furnishing goods of every description. The people who came were largely of the class that had been following the railroad from point to point and had been doing business of one sort or another in the various temporary towns along the Union Pacific Railroad.'

The proposed town of Laramie had been well adver- tised and the outlaw element realized that it was beyond the pall of civilization. The town served as a magnet for the worst sort of gamblers, thieves, highway robbers, and murderers who had been following the progress of the railway construction from Omaha west. It is safe to say that there were a great many men in early Laramie who had few moral principles, and they intended through violence to bring into subjection the citizens who favored decency and honesty.'

A prelude to things yet to come was an incident in- volving W. H. Murphy and his friend, George Hayes.

€0MM!fMmgS BECAME MPOBABI fWiS BBTIBNED

Laramie, Wyoming, circa 1868. "For a few weeks three desperadoes dominated the affairs of the town.

On April 9, they were met by the Laramie police force and a few of their friends. The police tried to rob the two men and because they resisted the assault, they were arrested and put in jail. One member of the police force, a friend of Hayes, informed the two that the whole plot was to kill Hayes, and that Murphy was in no danger. During the night, the lawmen led by a man named Louis Roddapouch, opened fire on the jail. The first bullet from the lawman's gun wounded Murphy in the knee, but despite his wounds at least two of Murphy's bullets hit Roddapouch, inflicting flesh wounds. A group of citizens living nearby heard all of the shooting and broke in the jail and rescued Murphy.

Roddapouch was captured the next morning and turned over to the sheriff. Murphy and his friends, in- tent on a lynching, demanded Roddapouch. As they prepared to hang him, Moll Tippets, who was known as the "Bull Whacker's Pet" came to bid Roddapouch goodbye. "Never mind," she said, "if these cruel men are against you. Remember God is for you." The lynch- ing was stopped by several armed men and Roddapouch was transferred to Cheyenne. *

In spite of Laramie having a municipal government elected by the people, for a few weeks three desperadoes dominated the affairs of the new city. One outlaw operated a saloon in a log house, with a small backroom connected to the place. Men were made drunk, robbed and murdered. Their bodies were tossed into this

backroom and then loaded into wagons and hauled out onto the plains for the coyotes and other animals to feast on. This saloon, operated by the Moyer brothers, became known as the "Bucket of Blood."'"

The reaction produced by the criminal activities resulted in the organization of a vigilante committee composed of railroaders and businessmen who formulat- ed plans to take action against the outlaw element. On October 18, the hanging of a young man known only as the "Kid" by the vigilantes aroused the anger of the outlaw element. The vigilantes, in their next course of action, organized a raid on a notorious saloon known as "The Belle of the West." A hundred shots were ex- changed between the outlaws and the vigilantes and three of the vigilantes were killed before the battle end- ed. The vigilantes broke into the place and seized Con Wagner, Asa Moore and Ed Wilson. Their hands were tied by ropes and they were tied to the same building where the "Kid" had met his fate. The next morning "Big Steve" was captured and marched to a telegraph pole near the station house."

According to an account by W. O. Owen, pioneer surveyor and mountain climber, the vigilantes seized "Big Steve" because he had failed to leave town as the group had ordered. He pleaded with the men to spare his life and said that he would leave town and not stop until he arrived in Omaha. Without benefit of clergy, a rope was fastened around his neck and he was pulled up

a telegraph pole. "Big Steve" was so heavy that the noose broke and he fell to the ground. He was raised to the pole a second time and the rope broke. On the third at- tempt, the noose held and "Big Steve" was dead.'^

When Grenville Dodge, chief engineer of the Union Pacific Railroad, was away in Congress, Thomas Durant was circulating rumors that Laramie, and not Chey- enne, would be the main division point on the railroad. When General Dodge heard of the Durant stories and the nature of the affairs at the end of the track, he ordered his private car to proceed to Laramie. When Dodge arrived in Laramie, the "Big Tent" was doing a thriving gambling business. Dodge, displeased with the condition existing in Laramie, threatened to have General Gibbons send down a company of soldiers and proclaim martial law. Dodge also warned Durant not to interfere with his plans for building the railroad.'^

In October of 1868, the Union Pacific built the Thomburg Hotel. The dining room was being used as a restaurant for passengers on the Union Pacific. In the Thomburg Hotel Laramie had its first Christmas tree on Christmas Eve of 1868. In 1869, a reception was held in the hotel for Governor John Campbell, first governor of Wyoming Territory.

With the organization of the Territory of Wyoming in May of 1869, a machinery for the government of the

territory was created. County officers were appointed and the first term of court was held in 1869 with Judge William Jones presiding. N. K. Boswell became sheriff of the new county and was diligent in the enforcement of the laws.'"*

The Frontier Index, "the press on wheels," followed the construction of the railroad from one town to another. In Albany County it was first published at Fort Sanders and later at Laramie. In August of 1868, the press was moved to Green River. Fred Freeman was the editor along the line on construction until his brother Legh took over the paper in Green River. In the frontier towns of the Union Pacific the Freeman brothers were recognized as the "chiefs of the vigilantes."'^

One of the early travelers on the Union Pacific, T. E. Lester gives the following description of Laramie: We are now approaching Laramie City — the end of the division, the proposed site of extensive railroad shops and quite a busy place, the natural outlet of the Laramie Plains, which is now open as a great grazing field, over which even now thousands of cattle are roaming." Edward L. Sabin, an early railroad historian, gave the following impression of Laramie:

The big game heads, the agates, the opals, and moun- tain amethysts and rubies heaped in the show cases of the station eating house and were the feeblest of lures for in- coming tourists: the great water tank and its windmill

Newly constructed railroad shops at Laramie, circa 1870.

seventy five feet high, on a base twenty -five by fifteen feet - the sparkling streams of water flowing down the prin- cipal streets failed to wash away the sins of Laramie and its people until the vigilantes helped."

Laramie became an important division point and men worked in the roundhouse and the shops. The steam cars rolled through the town day and night. To a large portion of the population the railroad was their means of earning a living and every train was known by a number.

During the summer of 1868, the tracklayers were pushing out across the Laramie plains, and orders were issued to change the line, sloping it into the valleys of Rock Creek and the Medicine Bow River. This change in the plans added 20 miles to the original line and sta- tions were constructed at Rock Creek, Medicine Bow and Carbon.'"

By June 18, there were 1,000 persons at the North Platte River Crossing. The town there, known as Brownsville, was constructed of log houses with canvas roofs. The buildings were constructed so they could be removed in case the Union Pacific laid out a town site. Fort Steele was established on the south side of the Platte and no new towns were to be established within three miles of the military reservation. The fort was useful not only as a protection against the Indians, but also to keep a check on the people who followed the construction from place to place. '^

In the early days of July, General Dodge issued an order for the citizens of Brownsville to move to the new

railroad town located three miles from the North Platte on the edge of Dry Desert. Not only did all of the in- habitants move to this new location, but they were joined by an influx of the rough element from Laramie. A freight train crossed the new Platte River bridge "and the big tent with all of the gambling equipment arrived in the new town of Benton."^"

Descriptions of Brownsville and Benton are found in a letter written to Dr. Grace Raymond Hebard from Meta Brown of Rawlins on February 22, 1919. Miss Brown wrote of an interview with Mrs. Lawrence Hayes of Rawlins:

I had a very interesting conversation with her (Mrs. Hayes) concerning Benton. She moved from Cheyenne to Brownsville early in June of '68. When the reservation of the Fort was made, they were forced to move on to Benton. She says that Brownsville was very different from Benton in appearance since the people lived in rustic log houses along the river. Trees were in abundance and it was quite a pretty place. On the other hand, the houses in Benton were not log but were either shacks made of boards or tents or a combination of both.^'

Another account of life in Benton comes from an ar- ticle in the Rawlins Republican by Mrs. Margaret Wallace. Mrs. Wallace relates that during the winter of 1867, her father Larry Hayes constructed a building in sections which could be used as a restaurant. He loaded the building on a freight wagon in Cheyenne and journeyed west to secure a location for business. When they arrived in Brownsville on June 19, 1865, there- was about four inches of snow on the ground. They crossed

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Brownsville, Wyonung, IHhH. "People lived m rustic log houses along the river. Trees were in abundance and it was quite a pretty place. "

the North Platte and in a few days were putting up a restaurant in Benton. Benton was supposed to be where the division point would be located because it was close to the needed water of the Platte River. ^^

The new town was located near the desert on a bare alkali plain. It took one half of a glass of the alkali water to furnish a physic of the strongest character. Water was hauled from the river, a journey of ten miles. The price for a barrel of water at one time went as high as ten dollars. A bath takes considerable water, but money could be saved if one gentleman doubled up with another."

Editor Alfred J. Mokler of the Wyoming Pioneer gave the following description of Benton:

Benton, is not but a name — all but faded from memory. In 1868 it was the temporary terminal of the Union Pacific Railroad; it earned wide notoriety as the most incandescent of red hot towns in the West; a cemetery was started there the same day that the town was estab- lished and before the next terminus west was set up, more than 100 graves disgraced the plot that was set aside in which the dead were buried. Benton was three miles from the Platte River and water was hauled in to supply the population; the price for a bucketful was ten cents, but since 'forty rod' whiskey could be had for twenty five cents a glass, water was tabooed except for cooking and cleaning purposes, and to quench the thirst of a few decent men and women who were compelled to make their homes there.

Benton lay in the heart of barrenness, alkali, and desolation on the face of a windy desert, alive with dust- devils, sweeping along yellow and funnel-shaped says Zane Grey in his 'U.P. Trail.' It is a huge, blocked-out town and set where no town could ever live. It was 150 miles from Cheyenne. Benton was a prey for the sun, wind, drought and the wind was terribly hot in summer and insupportably cold in winter. No sagebrush, no greasewood, no trees, not even a cactus plant, nothing green or living to relieve the eye which swept across the gray and barren white plains, through the dust, to the distant hills or drab . . . The hell that was reported to be in Benton was in harmony with its setting. The population which made up the hell hole was composed of Mexicans, Blacks, loafers, tradesmen, laborers, gamblers and a heterogeneous mass of humanity of stragglers, and desperadoes, most of who live off the workmen and builders of the railroad. No more than one- tenth of the people living there could be termed as respect- able human beings.^''

Horse stealing appeared to be an important vocation in the Platte River area. Thirteen men charged with this crime were lodged in the guard house at Fort Steele. One of these men identified as "Buffalo Bill" (not the famous William F. Cody) was chased across the Platte River and succeeded in escaping. ^^

In the early days of the town's existence, labor prob- lems were common. A man named Wilson was hanged when he demanded his wages from a grading contrac- tor. The graders employed between Benton and the end of the track then went on strike, demanding an increase in wages from two to three dollars a day and free board. The men also demanded all of their back pay before

leaving Benton so that they would have money to spend in the new town of Green River. ^*

By July 20 a wooden bridge had been constructed across the Platte and trains were running to Benton. The tracklayers were building toward Green River and planned to reach Salt Lake City by next spring. With the opening of the track into the town more people moved in. Activities reached such a high pitch that it was necessary to have a guard of 12 soldiers to patrol the town."

The following letter written by General Jack Case- ment to his wife in Ohio gives some idea of the condi- tions in Benton:

Benton, August 1, 1868 My Dear Wife:

I arrived at this place yesterday morning and went to the end of the track thirty miles beyond here. So I have not had the opportunity to write before. Things are all working well here. Dan has gone to Cheyenne to spend the Sabbath with Mollie. She telegraphed that the baby was sick again. This is an awful place. Alkali dust knee deep and certainly the meanest place I have ever been in. I am so thankful that my darlings are where they are. Dan thought of mov- ing here, but dare not do it and has concluded to move to our club house, or send Mollie home whenever she may desire. Dan or myself will have to go nearly to Salt Lake to attend to our graders. Tell father if he wants any money to check on Wilcox in my name and get what he wants. Signed, Jack^«

Of all the "Hell on Wheels" towns, Benton, during its existence, had the reputation of being one of the worst. Soldiers from Fort Steele tried to preserve some degree of law and order and to lower the homicide rate. The military authorities placed a $25 fine on all persons caught carrying firearms in the town. The "respectable" people complained that this law made them easy prey for the brigands that operated at night. ^^

A brief riot occurred when Jack Harris was arrested by a soldier for cutting a dance hall tent with the inten- tion of robbing the cash box. His friends attempted to rescue him from the military, but the soldier fired wildly over their heads and were able to convey Harris to the guard house without inflicting any casualties on his friends.^"

J. H. Beadle, a famous novelist of the Western scene, arrived that August in Benton. The streets were eight inches deep with alkali dust, and in his dark clothes, he resembled a cockroach scrambling out of a flour barrel."

Beadle was running low on funds and he decided to remain in the town for two weeks. Here is how he described Benton;

The Toy™ lacked ordinary comforts, and there was

not a green tree, shrub or patch of grass. The red hills were

scorched as bare as if blasted by lightning.'^

A classic Beadle description is of the "Big Tent":

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Benton, Wyoming, 1868. "By day disgusting, by night dangerous, almost everybody dirty, many filthy and with the marks of lowest wee ..."

The 'Big Tent' had served as a gambhng and drinking center in the town of Julesberg, Cheyenne and Laramie before being erected in Benton. This structure was a nice frame, a hundred feet long and forty feet wide, covered with canvas, conveniently floored for dancing. As we enter, we note that the right side is lined with a splendid bar sup- plied with every variety of liquors and cigars, with cut glass goblets, ice pitchers, splendid mirrors, and pictured wall- ing of our eastern cities. At the back end a space large enough for one cotillion is left open for dancing, on a raised platform, a full band is in attendance day and night, while the rest of the room is filled with tables devoted to monte. faro, rondo carlo, fortune wheels and every other species of gambling known. I acknowledge a morbid curiosity relat- ing to everything villainous, though 1 never ventured a cent but once in my life. I am never weary of watching a game, and the various fortunes of those 'who buck against the tiger.'

During the day the Big Tent' is rather quiet, but at night after a few inspiring tunes at the door by the band, the long hall is soon crowded with a motley throng of three or four hundred miners, ranchers, clerks and cappers. The brass instruments are laid aside, the string music begins, the cotillions succeed each other rapidly each ending with a drink while those not so employed crowd around the tables and each enjoy his favorite game. Tonight is one of unusual interest, and the tent is full, while from every table is heard a musical rattle of dice, the hum of the wheel, or the elo- quent voice of the dealer. Fair women, clothed with rich- ness and taste, in white airy garments mingle with the throng, watch the game with deep interest, or laugh and chat with the players.^'

Other businesses in the town were housed in port- able buildings. These buildings of painted pine were shipped from Chicago at $300 delivered. The buildings could be erected in a day by two boys with screwdrivers. In dusty Benton in August of 1868, life was the cheapest commodity. Two men became engaged in a violent dispute over a debt. While the dispute was in

progress, a man named Maxwell, unaware of danger, was walking down the opposite side of the street. One of the men, Kelley, drew a Spencer rifle, and with deliberate aim, fired and brought Maxwell to the ground. In spite of Maxwell's pleas for his life, Kelley walked deliberately up to him and shot with the contents of another barrel of his gun. The interference of the military prevented Kelley 's hanging. In a few days he escaped from the guard house at Fort Steele and headed westward.^''

Considerable excitement also was caused by the shooting of a man in a private row. Two men, Charles Hubbard and Tom McGinty, both bad characters, were having words over the division of their spoils. Hubbard pulled out a pistol and shot the other man through the stomach. After Hubbard had been arrested, a crowd gathered and tried to break into the guard house and obtain the prisoner. ^^

J. H. Beadle, present when the affair happened, wrote:

The regular routine of business, dances, drunks and fistfights met with a sudden interruption on the 8th of August. Sitting in a tent door that day I noticed an alterca- tion across the street, and saw a man draw a pistol and fire, and another stagger and catch hold of a post for support. The first was about to shoot again when he was struck from behind and the pistol wrenched from his hand. The wounded man was taken into a cyprian's tent near by and treated with the greatest kindness by the woman, but died the next day. It was universally admitted that there had been no provocation for the shooting, and the general voice was, 'Hang him!'.'''

To Judge W. R. Kuykendall, who visited the town for the purpose of electioneering, Benton was the roughest place in America. The killings, shootings, and crooked gambling were all daily events. Dance halls with

the "painted cats" operated around the clock; crime ap- peared to afford a great deal of pleasure to the in- habitants of the place. The town of Benton was too far away for a sheriff to do anything without bankrupting the county.''

Samuel Bowles, reporter from the Springfield Re- publican arrived from Illinois to visit Benton. Bowles gave the following report:

When we were on the Une, this congregation of scum and wickedness was within a desert section called Benton: One or two thousand men and a few women were en- camped on the alkali plains in tents and board shanties, not a tree, not a shrub, not a blade of grass was visable, the dust ankle deep as we walked through it, and so fine and volatile that the slightest breeze loaded the air with it, ir- ritating every sense and poisoning half of them, a village of a few variety stores and shops, by day disgusting, by night dangerous, almost everybody dirty, many filthy and with the marks of lowest vice, averaging a murder a day, gam- bling and drinking, hurdy dancing and the vilest of sexual commerce. The chief business and pastime of the hours, this was Benton. Like its predecessors, it fairly festered in corruption, disorder, and death, and would have rotted in this dry air. had it outlasted a brief sixty-day life.'* The alkali dust, or it might be called powder, became so disagreeable that it caused a number of Ben- ton citizens to move on to Green River. The alkali was as fine as flour, and due to the wind, its malignant effects were apparent. Many people, according to reports, were bleeding at the lungs from inhaling the alkali. It was suggested that with enough water the community of Benton could have been made to resemble one immense foaming powder.'®

On August 13, 1868, the Cheyenne Daily Leader published this letter written by editor N. A. Baker dur- ing a visit to Benton:

It is said that no thing on earth was made without a use but it is our most decided opinion that the wastes of Western Wyoming for the most part , are most unfit for the use of either white men or digger Indians. Either could starve if compelled to gather his substance from the soil or the chase. Indians and wild beast avoid it and the restless and adventurous white abhor it and abide in it only long enough to build a railroad through it and then resign it to the everlasting and lonely solitude, to be broken only by the impatient shrieks of the iron horse.

The town of Benton, like the camps of the Bedouin Arabs, is of tents, and almost a transitory nature as the elements of a soap bubble. The ever restless spirit that animates western communities is in full vigor here, and each sojourner in the place seems fearful that somebody will get ahead of him in the race to the next town. Many have already left here for Green River, Ham's Fork and some other points where some trade may be engaged for a brief space, and where a few, very few, will make a little money. The railroad company has sold seventeen thousand dollars worth of lots here, in the few weeks that the town has been laid, and in this sentence may be seen the secret of where the main portion of the money goes.''" One of the best descriptions of the types of humanity that inhabited Benton is by Charles Giffin Coutant:

The camp followers on arriving at the Platte selected a townsite about half a mile up the river, which they called Brownsville, and in an incredibly short time opened stores, eating houses, saloons, boarding houses, gambling and sporting places. Within forty-eight hours everything was in full blast, with a population numbering five hundred or more. It was a typical city of the wild west and was what was known as an 'all-night town.' Brownsville was short- lived, being supplanted by Benton, a railroad town three miles farther west. Benton, like Brownsville, had for its population a large number of disreputable characters and at once took high rank as a saloon, gambling and sporting town. In two or three days it had from 1,000 to 1,500 in- habitants, and there being no such thing as law and order the rough element ran things to suit themselves. Murder was an everyday occurrence and peaceably disposed people soon learned that protesting against violence was something that would not be tolerated by those in control of affairs. Benton in its day was certainly the one bad town along the line of the Union Pacific. In other places the better element attempted to make life and property secure and after a time succeeded, but in Benton no such effort was put forth and the result was that crime was popular and good con- duct undesirable with the rough element, and this con- tinued as long as the town lasted. Prize fighting and all that goes with it was patronized, and the place became the rendezvous of outlaws of every description. It was a city of portable houses and tents stretched over wood frames.'" To be at the right point for fleecing the track workers again, the inhabitants of Benton shipped their tents and portable stores to Green River City. While everybody in Benton was busy packing up for Green River City, there was an election of city officers in August and A. B. Miller was elected mayor of an almost deserted town.^^

In October there were enough residents left in Ben- ton to carry on another election. A man named Bell, who was employed by the railway company, tried to vote in the election. Tom McGraw challenged his right to vote. Bell, acting in self defense, shot McGraw in the head."'

J. H. Beadle revisited the site of Benton ten months after his first visit. On his second visit there was not a house or a tent to be seen, only a few chimneys and rock piles. The white dust covered even the desolate ceme- tery. "Only a memory remains," he wrote."''

(Two miles east of Benton the town of Parco came into existence due to the establishment of an oil refinery in the area. The refinery was organized to utilize the oil from the Salt Creek field. In 1934, the Parco Company went bankrupt and the town was bought by the Sinclair Oil Company and the name of the town was changed to Sinclair.)

The grading crew moved out across the red desert from the main construction camp in Rawlins. The tracklayers in August were averaging four miles per day and by the month of October the railway line had reached Green River. ""^

Some of the men from a grading camp went on strike and in a sullen mood with plenty of whiskey, they

Bear R/ivr City, Wyoming, 1868. "From 200 tu 300 merciU. of manilla and bristling with pistols ..." encamped on McDermott's Island near the town. The drinkers raised hell all evening and threatened to take over Green River. The townspeople organized a well armed force and locked themselves in their houses until the excitement died down. The authorities threatened to place the town under martial law."^

The townspeople also became involved with the Union Pacific officials in regard to the illegal possession of a lot that belonged to the railroad company. The land agents threatened to use the military to seize the town lots.^'

During the latter part of September, 1868, as the construction crews pushed toward Utah Territory, the town of Bear River was constructed. The town was on the Old Overland Stage Road, north of Quaking Moun- tain. The population numbered about 2,000 persons, and the town contained about 140 buildings of varied sizes and shapes. A short distance from the center of town a coal mine was established by Throp, Head and Steele. The price of coal was seven dollars a ton, and when the first engine arrived on December 3, 1868, a supply of fuel was available. The merchants carried large stocks of goods in hopes that the town would become the winter quarters for the railroad."*

In November 1868, when the graders reached Bear River, McGee and Cheeseborough had the grading con- tract for this stretch of road, and employed between 400 to 500 men, most of them raw Irish immigrants. A Frenchman named Alex Topence had the contract for furnishing beef, and he put up a slaughter house and shack south of the tracks, while the so-called town was north. The town consisted of some roughly constructed

,s jifuds u-u'lding pick handles . . .filled with four fat horns

rooming and boarding houses and a row of business buildings comprising the California Clothing Store, Nuckles General Merchandise, a Jewish shoe store, and a number of saloons and gambling houses. On the same side of the track with Topence, the butcher, was the of- fice of the Frontier Index. "^

The roughs and gangsters that had been chased from Benton and the other towns east of Bear River eventually arrived there, and as more of these men ar- rived a jail was constructed to help maintain order. An election was conducted in the town, and the following officials were elected: J. B. Cooper, mayor; W. R. Arm- strong, marshal; J. H. Wilbur, clerk; J. H. Young, W. H. Bowers, W. N. Osborne, and C. H. Caswell, coun- cilmen.'^°

The Frontier Index, a weekly newspaper, secured quarters in a small frame building near the proposed line of the railroad. Editor Legh R. Freeman started a campaign to rid the town of criminals:

The baiid of garroters, who were recently driven away from some of our lower railroad towns are at last con- gregating in our midst and had better go slow or they will find the place too hot for this location. '' The outlaw population of Bear River in November had reached such proportions that the Frontier Index published along with its news items, another warning to all of the criminals in the place:

There is not a place west of here that can be made to a point for anything until we build on the shores of Salt Lake next spring. We will ship frame houses and everything by rail then, and lumber is worth more there than here, we will make our winter's rent dear. Most of the cutthroat gang ordered to leave here vanished through there. There

10

are several here yet who have the mark of the beast on their

forehead, and had better make the cap fit themselves

before Saturday at midnight, or climb a telegraph pole.

This means business.

Vigilance Committee'^

As in some of the other towns in Wyoming, a vigi- lance committee became the instrument for establishing order. With the necessity for faster construction on the line, graders in large numbers flocked into Bear River to drink and carouse in its numerous saloons and dance halls.

By the middle of November the track was within nine miles of Bear River. A trestle 600 feet long was con- structed across the stream. General Jack Casement and his Irishmen were slowed down by the lack of ties, which were floated down the Green River. It was difficult at this time to move the ties because the stream was very low and contained considerable ice. When the ties were secured, the tracklayers mingled with the graders in the rush to extend the line westward across Utah.^^

On November II, 1868, "Lynch Law" made an ap- pearance in Bear River, supported by the railroad of- ficials and a segment of businessmen. Jack O'Neil, Jim- my Powers and Jimmy Reed, three notorious robbers, were hanged on a beam extending from an unfinished building in front of the jail on Sulphur Street. The vic- tims were all young, aged 21, 22 and 23 years. O'Neil was formerly from Canada, but more recently from St. Joseph, Missouri. Jimmy Reed was originally from Utica, New York, and he had been chased from Laramie by the vigilantes there. ^''

The three men were confined in the jail and from there were taken by what the coroners jury termed "unknown parties" and hanged in the freezing air. They were cut down the next morning about seven o'clock and in the afternoon a wagon conveyed their bodies to graves dug in the frozen earth. At their funerals a great many of the outlaw element expressed their sympathy and a desire to take action against the men responsible for the hangings. ^^

Even after the action of the vigilantes, violence con- tinued in the town of Bear River. On Uintah Street a house popular with the graders was the scene of another crime. The desperado entered Ella Folsom's place and after a little blarney, threw his arms around her in an at- tempt to strangle her. Her struggles and the noise pro- duced by the action caused the villain to let go and leave the premises. ^^

Men were also victimized such as noted in a news- paper article:

John A. Hoffman was garroted near the railroad cross- ing off Utah Street, and seventy -five dollars were removed from his pocket. One ruffian choked him while another rifled his pockets. According to John, the robbers did not get all his money, and if a policeman had not taken his revolver early in the evening, they would not have gotten away without a battle.^'

Bear River became an armed camp, with both the offensive and inoffensive carrying guns. The construc- tion officials of the railroad carried their Winchesters while visiting the town. The tension of the struggle be- tween law and order on one side and crime, vice and dis-

Fort Bridger, Wyoming, 1868. "The forces from Fort Bridger are hourly expected."

order on the other exploded into violence on November 19:

The mob at this city has begun by burning the jail in which a number of prisoners were confined, upon which the citizens armed themselves, while the mob numbering two hundred were standing whooping over the burning of the jail, the citizens fired into them, killing twenty-five, and wounding fifty or sixty: the exact number is not yet ascer- tained. Frontier Index office was also burned to the ground and the editor is missing. It is not known whether he escaped or has been killed. The riot began about the hang- ing on November 11.*'

It is feared that the city will be burned, women and children fleeing for their safety. The citizens have sent to the railroad grading camps for reinforcements. The utmost terror and confusion prevail, and it is impossible to distinguish friends from enemies. It is now feared that the mob may burn all of the houses and other property in the place. *^

Bear River was placed under martial law by the authorities at Fort Bridger and business proceeded as usual the next day. Armed guards were placed on the outskirts of town and others patrolled the streets. Rumors were circulated that a huge army of construc- tion workers were on the way to furnish relief to the citizens of the battered town. The mob scattered to the mountains where they conducted a meeting to formu- late a new plan of attack. In the first day's fighting, vigilantes Tom Smith and John Dailey were seriously wounded and not expected to live. A later report stated that 20 of the mob were dead, and 35 wounded. One citizen named Armstrong also was killed in the fighting.*"'

Stuart Henry described the Bear River battle: Tom Smith served at one time on the police force of New York. I have shadowy details of his wanderings over Utah and Nevada. Thence he returned to Iowa with wagon trains, hauling railroad material westward. Next he ap- pears on the frontier of Nebraska, employed in various capacities, following the Union Pacific construction. What a world of experience such rugged schooling brought him! Finally, and authentically, he was engaged with a large contracting firm whose headquarters in 1868 were at Bear River, Wyoming, where many hundred employees were congregated. The businessmen there had organized a 'town' government, so called, adopted laws of their own and appointed a marshal!. Naturally, many outlaws and desperate characters collected and crime and lawlessness abounded.

A young man from Smith's camp, his friend, merely disorderly under the influence of liquor, was placed in jail where there were three others who just before garroted and robbed a couple of men in open day. The exasperated cit- izens incited by a fugitive newspaper, housed in a tent on the outskirts of the town, organized a vigilance committee, made wholesale arrests and locked the prisoners in jail. Smith's camp companions invaded the town, destroyed the newspaper plant and, after releasing the prisoners, pro- ceeded to burn the jail, when Smith himself came on the scene.

The vigilance committee had, in the meantime, armed and gathered in a log storeroom, about fifty yards away. Smith, roused to fury, ran to the very front of the

12

store, and emptied both his revolvers into the barricaded vigilantes, but fortunately killed no one, although he received several shots from the vigilantes. Despite several fearful wounds, he cooly marched off to a friend's house, a block or so away, where for a time his life hung in the balance. Troops from Fort Bridger were summoned, and the town itself was soon abandoned, as the road moved on.

That Smith's motives and conduct in the premises were generally justified is evidenced by the fact that quickly upon his recovery he was chosen marshall of the next town, and so on continuously as towns were successfully located and abandoned, as the Union Pacific progressed, until it was completed, the following year."

One of the best accounts of the Bear River Riot was published in the Cheyenne Daily Leader as follows:

The morning dawned as God's Golden Sun beamed forth upon this wild splendor. Peace sat on the livelihood of every domicit and happiness reigned supreme over the city. As I write shouts of lawless murderers convened from ad- junct camps along the lines of the Union Pacific for the purpose of retaliating for injuries suffered by the operation of the shovel — by the execution of two or three notables recently at this city. From two to three hundred merciless fiends wielding pick handles and filled with four fathoms of manilla and bristling with pistols. Proceeding to the jail they immediately released the luckless boarders gathered in from time to time during the previous night. The mob then got out into Uintah Street, the Broadway' with us and patrolled the major portions thereof with random shooting and loud threats against the police, vigilante committee and the Frontier Index — the local dismanate — of wisdom — the editor and proprietor of which to have been an abet- tor of an investment in the maintenance of the vigilantes committee. Mr. Freeman seems to have been absent from his office at the time the mob with flaming torches rushed against the sole progressive institution of which we can boast. The clans entered and applied the torch which created serpent like flames enveloping the building and sealing the fate of 'The Press on Wheels' in Wyoming.

The forms were made up for the Frontier Index to go to press — this being the day of publication for the journal. The workers inside the building were restrained from recovering their apparel from the ill-fated office. After the burning of the Frontier Index the mob returned to the cen- tral portion of the town for lunch.

Lunch over - a rung was made for the 'Limbo the front portion of the building being used for a court house and the quarters of the police force, and the torches were applied to its unpretending walls. Retreating from the scorching conflagation, a rally of musketry was discharged into the store of S . F. Nicholls, the rendezvous of the police, regular as well as the deputies, fatally wounding one of the deputies, whereupon the police fired upon the aggressors, fatally wounding eight of the miscreants, a panic seized the populus and there was a scene of scrambling over the sage- brush, rock piles. Ladies fair and families with children in their arms fell in and made incredible lines to the bluffs. Stores, restaurants, gin mills, dance houses and every other place of business was closed.

The display of musketry was at its height and kept up until three p.m., when the renegades dispersed and quiet was restored. The police in the town are in the quest of some of the marauders.

Eight o'clock, no further development as yet, the forces from Fort Bridger are hourly expected.

Twilight — The brief quiet that has prevailed gave way to active movement of news having reached the citizens, through the officers of the road that Carmichael's gang and other general contractors men are congregating at the various camps to renew the attack tonight. The drum is now beating through the streets, and a general appeal is be- ing made to the owners of the property to assist in measures for the general safety by coming forth for service.

Ten o'clock, all is quiet, yet neither troops nor in- vaders appear, and it is likely that the scenes of the day will not be re-enacted.

The only attempt at personal malice were made against the editor of the Index and one of the police, who it seems were overzealous in the discharge of his duties when the melee became general.

Had the police called on the citizens as soon as the gang made a move on the jail, that building would doubt- less been saved along with the Frontier Index offices. '^ It would appear from the above that the press was destroyed by its support of law and order in the frontier towns along the Union Pacific railway. Legh Freeman with his support of the vigilantes against the criminal elements escaped. The destruction of the "Press on Wheels" ended a pioneer journalistic venture in Wyo- ming that had some impact on frontier society.

Evanston, located 11 miles west of Bear River City, became a division point of the railroad. A 20-stall round house was erected to serve the railroad. The population grew as business became good. A large amount of freight was delivered there for the Salt Lake Valley, and a sawmill was established to utilize the pine forest located in Bear River.

In the bitter cold of the winter of 1868, the tracks pushed on toward Wasatch, another "Hell on Wheels" town in Utah. The railroad through Wyoming was com- pleted and the towns that were to grow into important communities became more law-abiding. The temporary towns returned to sagebrush and alkali.

1. Frederick L. Paxson, The Last American Frontier. (New York: The MacMillan Company, 1915). pp 495-496.

2. Cheyenne Daily Leader, November 16, 1867.

3. Ibid., December 24, 1867.

4. "Notes on Laramie," Grace R. Hebard Collection, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming, Laramie.

5. Cheyenne Daily Leader, May 5, 1868.

6. Manuscript of Edward Ivinson, Hebard Collection.

7. Cheyenne Daily Leader, May 11, 1868.

8. "Notes on Laramie. "

9. Laramie Boomerang. March 9, 1913.

10. William Francis Hooker, "Hanging City Official In The Old West." Union Pacific Magazine. December 1922. Omaha (pp. 18-20).

11. Cheyenne Daily Leader, October 21, 1868.

12. Papers of W. O. Owen, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming, Laramie.

13. J. R. Perkins, Rails and War. (Indianapolis, Indiana: Bobbs Merrill Company, 1929).

14. Laramie Republican (Daily Issue), August 9, 1917.

15. Douglas C. McMurtie, "Pioneer Printing in Wyoming." Annals of Wyoming, January, 1933.

16. John E. Lester, The Atlantic to the Pacific. (Boston: Shepard and Gill. 1873), p. 27.

17. Edwin L. Sabin, Building the Union Pacific. (Philadelphia: The J. B. Lippincott Company, 1919).

18. Cheyenne Daily Leader, June 30, 1868.

19. Cheyenne Daily Leader, June 28, 1868.

20. Ibid., July 7, 1868.

21. Letter written by Meta Brovra of Rawlins to Dr. Grace Hebard, February 22, 1919, Hebard Collection.

22. Rawlins Republican Bulletin, May 2, 1939.

23. Cheyenne Daily Leader, July 9, 1868.

24. Alfred Mockler, "Benton Was A Red Hot Town in 1868," Wyoming Pioneer, Vol. I, No. 5 (July-August, 1941), pp. 148-149.

25. Cheyenne Daily Leader, July 14, 1868.

26. Cheyenne Daily Leader, July 26, 1868.

27. Cheyenne Daily Leader, July 21, 1868.

28. Letter written by General Jack Casement to Mrs. Casement in Ohio. Casement collection, American Heritage Center.

29. Cheyenne Daily Leader, July 23, 1868.

30. Ibid., July 23, 1868.

31. Ibid., August 10, 1868.

32. J. H. Beadle, The Undeveloped West. (Cincinnati. Ohio: Na- tional Publishing Company, 1873).

33. Ibid., pp. 91-92.

34. Cheyenne Daily Leader, August 23, 1868.

35. Ibid., August 10, 1868.

36. Beadle, p. 88.

37. William L. Kuykendall, Frontier Days. (Cheyenne: J. M. andH. L. Kuykendall, 1917). p. 126.

38. Samuel Bowles, Our New West. (Hartford, Conn.; Hartford Publishing Company, 1869).

39. Cheyenne Daily Leader, August 6, 1868.

40. Editorial, Cheyenne Daily Leader, August 14, 1868.

41. Charles Giffin Coutant, The History of Wyoming. (Laramie, Wyoming: Chaplin, Spafford and Methison, 1899).

42. Cheyenne Daily Leader, August 24, 1868.

43. Ibid., October 14, 1868.

44. J. H. Beadle, Western Wilds And The Men Who Redeemed Them. (Cincinnati: James Brothers and Company, 1882).

45. Cheyenne Daily Leader, September 15, 1868.

46. Ibid., July 9, 1868.

47. Ibid., August 15, 1868.

48. Ibid., November 15, 1868.

49. "Bear Towti," Notes from Hebard Collection.

50. Cheyenne Daily Leader, November 14, 1868.

51. Cheyenne Daily Leader, excerpted from the Frontier Index, November 7, 1868.

52. Cheyenne Daily Leader, excerpted from the Frontier Index, November 14, 1890.

53. Cheyenne Daily Leader, November 14, 1868.

54. Ibid., November 16, 1868.

55. Ibid., November 18, U

56. Ibid., November 17, 1868.

57. Ibid., November 20, 1868.

58. Ibid., November 22, If

59. Ibid., November 22, U

60. Elizabeth A. Stone. Uintah County, Its Place in History. (Glen- dale, California: Arthur Clark Publishers, 1924).

61. Stuart Henry, Conquering Our Great American Plains. (New York: Dutton, 1950). p. 159-160.

62. Cheyenne Daily Leader, November 27, 1868.

13

The Naval Oil Reserve, Teapot Dome

an

Continental Trading

"**'♦»►

Company

By Paul H. Giddens

14

"The Teapot Dome scandal had its origin over the leasing of naval petroleum reserves in California and Wyoming in 1922 and an attempt by the Secretary of the Interior and several private individuals to defraud the United States of its oil reserves for personal financial gain. In the affair there were two civil suits and six criminal trials. Three Cabinet members resigned and Secretary of the Interior Albert Fall was sentenced to prison."

Prior to the Watergate affair, our greatest and most sensational national political scandal was Teapot Dome. Since the latter had its beginnings in 1921 , many persons are too young to remember the facts and the passing of time has dimmed the memory of the oldsters.

There are some similarities and differences between the Watergate affair and the Teapot Dome scandals. The abuse and misuse of executive powers gave rise to the Watergate affair and related activities. On the other hand, the Teapot Dome scandal had its origin over the leasing of naval petroleum reserves in California and Wyoming in 1922 and in an attempt by Secretary of the Interior Albert B. Fall and several private individuals to defraud the United States of its oil reserves for personal financial gain. In each affair there were lengthy in- vestigative hearings by a Senate committee. According to Senator Francis E. Warren, chairman of the Senate Committee on Appropriations, the Senate hearing and investigation of Teapot Dome up to April 16, 1924, cost $32,808.03.' Up to November 25, 1973, Congress had appropriated $4.8 million to investigate the Watergate affair. The Senate Watergate Investigating Committee had spent most of its $1,000,000 appropriation and was asking for $500,000 more. The Special Prosecutor's of- fice had a budget of $2,800,000. The House Judiciary Committee had received a $1,000,000 appropriation for its preliminary impeachment inquiry; $232,000 had been spent for extra White House lavvryers; and $220,000

or more had been spent to pay Watergate grand jurors and stenographers.^ An exact figure of the total spent is probably impossible to determine because other costs were hidden in the budgets of the FBI, Congress, the General Accounting Office and in other governmental offices .

Secrecy and deception, lies and evasion of questions and illegal surveillance characterized the action and testimony of some of the principals involved in both Watergate and Teapot Dome. Special United States prosecutors were appointed in each case to investigate and prosecute those who had violated the laws of the United States. In the Teapot Dome affair there were two civil suits, both of which reached the United States Supreme Court which upheld the federal government in its efforts to cancel the oil leases and restore control and ownership of the oil property to the federal government.

There were also six criminal trials in the Teapot Dome case. Except for Secretary Fall, no one was found guilty and sentenced to prison for their part in the leas- ing of Teapot Dome. Harry F. Sinclair was the only other person who went to prison but his prison term had nothing to do with the leasing of Teapot Dome. He was found guilty of contempt of the Senate and of the Court and was sentenced to prison for three months in one in- stance and six months in the other. Public pressure forced three Cabinet members to resign because of their involvement in the Teapot Dome case. They were Secre-

15

tary of the Interior Albert B. Fall, Secretary of the Navy Edwin Denby and Attorney General Harry Daugherty. In the Watergate affair Richard Nixon, the President of the United States barely escaped being impeached and removed from office by resigning. Moreover, as of June 22, 1977, 25 former aides of the Nixon administration or employees of the Committee to Re-elect the President, including John Mitchell, Nixon's campaign director and his attorney -general, had gone to prison for the role they had played in the Watergate affair.^

Naval petroleum reserves had their origin in the 19th Century. Starting in 1864, five years after Colonel E. L. Drake drilled his famous oil well near Titusville, Pa., the U.S. Navy began the first in a long series of ex- periments with petroleum as fuel for naval vessels, ex- tending over the next 50 years. "* The increasing use of oil as fuel in locomotives, power plants, and steamships served to heighten general interest in oil as fuel.^ During the last 40 years of the 19th century, the British, Italian and German navies also began experimenting with pe- troleum as fuel in their naval vessels.

There were many factors favorable to the use of pe- troleum as fuel in naval vessels, but the one great deter- rent to creating an oil -burning naval fleet by any coun- try was the fear that the supply of oil might not be ade- quate in an emergency. Despite this fear, the U.S. Navy in 1909 installed equipment for burning oil instead of coal under the main boilers of the battleship Cheyenne. By late 1909 the six largest U.S. battleships in commis- sion or under construction were equipped to burn either coal or oil, and 14 of the latest destroyers used oil ex- clusively.

Having embarked upon a program of burning oil as an auxiliary fuel in our naval vessels, it was vital that an adequate supply of oil be created and maintained for the U.S. Navy.^ Therefore, President Taft authorized on September 27, 1909, the withdrawal from entry, sale, settlement and private appropriation of over 3,000,000 acres of public land in California and Wyoming thought to contain petroleum deposits.' Subsequently, orders withdrawing additional public lands were issued.

A year later, 1910, the Secretary of the Navy an- nounced, "All new destroyers and submarines are now desig[ned to use oil exclusively for fuel, while battleships and other large vessels were being fitted to carry oil as an auxiliary fuel."* In the same year, oil installations were placed in the battleships Delaware and North Dakota so that oil could be used as an auj^iliary fuel.^ When the Wyoming and Arkansas, the fastest and largest bat- tleships in the world, were completed in 1912, their boilers were fitted to bum both oil and coal. With only a portion of the U.S. naval fleet equipped to burn oil, the Navy was now using over 30,000,000 gallons of oil per year.'"

In 1911 Congress authorized the construction of two dreadnoughts, the Nevada and Oklahoma. Should these 16

giant battleships be equipped to bum oil exclusively? The Navy recognized the superiority of oil-burning bat- tleships and wanted to build them, but there was still a haunting fear that the supply of oil might not be ade- quate in an emergency.

Before making any decision. Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels, on March 7, 1913, asked Secretary of the Interior Franklin K. Lane for expert advice on the future supply of oil." Was the Navy justified in adopting a policy of oil-burning battleships? Receiving assurances from Secretary Lane that the Navy might rely upon re- serves already existing for a supply of oil greater than the life of any battleship to be constructed within the next decade, the order was given to make the Nevada "the first oil burner in any Navy." "Henceforth," declared Secretary Daniels in 1913, "all fighting ships which are added to the fleet will use oil."'^

To insure an adequate supply of oil. President Taft on September 2, 1912, issued an executive order creat- ing out of the public lands, containing petroleum deposits and previously withdrawn from entry. Naval Petroleum Reserve No. 1, commonly called the Elk Hills Naval Reserve, in Kern County, California, for "the ex- clusive use or benefit of the U.S. Navy until this order is revoked by the President or by Act of Congress."'^ Reserve No. 1 consisted of approximately 38,069 acres. Not knowing the quantity of oil available within Reserve No. 1 , it seemed prudent to add to the area reserved for the future oil needs of the United States Navy. There- fore, President Taft issued a second executive order on December 13, 1912, creating Naval Petroleum Reserve No. 2, also in Kern County, California, commonly called the Buena Vista Hills Naval Reserve, involving approximately 29,391 acres.'"

President Wilson on April 30, 1915, created Naval Petroleum Reserve No. 3, in Natrona County, Wyo- ming. '^ It consisted of approximately 9,481 acres contig- uous to and lying south of the great Salt Creek oil field. Within the reserve, 50 miles north of Casper, a high sandstone rock loomed up out of the bare sagebrush flats. It had a spout which made the rock resemble a teapot so this reserve was commonly called Teapot Dome. At the time, according to the U.S. Bureau of Mines, the Teapot Dome Reserve supposedly had 135,000,000 recoverable barrels of oil. '^

President Harding issued an executive order on February 27, 1923, creating Naval Petroleum Reserve No. 4, in northern Alaska." It consisted of approx- imately 35,000 square miles in the western part of this possible oil-bearing region.

The creation of these four Naval Petroleum Re- serves was regarded as insurance against the day when other domestic sources were inadequate or no longer available. If the country's commercial supply was depleted before the supplies of an enemy, it would then be in a position to draw upon these reserves.

By an amendment to the Naval Appropriation Act of June 4, 1920, Congress directed the Secretary of the Navy to take possession, use and operate the Naval Petroleum Reserves and drill offset wells, if necessary, for the benefit of the Navy. He was charged with doing everything needed to conserve and protect the oil in the ground until the needs of the Navy required its extrac- tion.'*

Three months after the inauguration of Warren G. Harding as President of the United States, upon the joint recommendation of Secretary of the Interior Albert B. Fall and the new Secretary of the Navy, Edwin Den- by, Harding issued an executive order on May 31, 1921, transferring the administration of the Naval Petroleum Reserves No. 1, 2 and 3 from the Secretary of the Navy to the Secretary of the Interior. '^ The Secretary of the Interior now had authority to grant drilling rights in the reserves. This marked the beginning of the Teapot Dome scandal.

The issuance of the executive order was cloaked in secrecy. It was not published nor was it filed in the customary section of the State Department.^" The New York Times buried the transfer story on page 12.^' Later, the U.S. Supreme Court held the executive order of President Harding to be illegal because it purported to confer on the Secretary of Interior authority which Congress had lodged exclusively with the Secretary of the Navy.

Old conservationist crusaders, like Senator Robert M. LaFollette, Gifford Pinchot and Harry Slattery, for- merly Pinchot's secretary and now secretary of the Na- tional Conservation Association, were suspicious and greatly disturbed when they learned of the executive order transfer and other anti-conservation actions of Secretary Fall. LaFollette began searching for pertinent documents and gradually more evidence began to filter in to the senator. When he sought the views of naval of- ficers, whom he knew had been against the transfer or the leasing of the reserves, he learned that they had all been ordered to distant sea stations. ^^ This further aroused his suspicions.

Although the Naval Appropriation Act of June 4, 1920, authorized the Secretary of the Navy to drill offset wells in the Naval Petroleum Reserves to prevent drain- age of oil by adjacent wells. Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels in Wilson's Cabinet, had not taken any action until shortly before his retirement from the Cabinet early in March, 1921. He had called for bids to drill 22 offset wells in a section of the Elk Hills Reserve to protect against the intensive drilling of the Standard Oil Company (California). ^^ The bids were not received un- til Denby became Secretary of the Navy and Fall became Secretary of the Interior and after Harding's Executive Order of May 31, 1921. When the bids were received, Fall accepted the best bid made, one by the Pan Amer- ican Petroleum Company, a subsidiary of the Pan

American Petroleum and Transport Company, both of which were owned and controlled by E. L. Doheny. With this company. Fall made a lease on July 12, 1921, to drill offset wells in Reserve No. 1. There was little or no criticism of the lease because the drainage by adjoin- ing wells was evident and bidding for the lease had been open and competitive.

On April 7, Fall announced the adoption by the In- terior Department of a new policy for protecting the Government against further losses of oil in the California reserves. He estimated that around 22,000,000 barrels of oil had been lost through the failure of the Wilson ad- ministration to drill protective offset wells there. ^'' The loss was irrecoverable and the Department of Interior could only inaugurate a drilling campaign to save the oil that still remained in the ground. The campaign had already started.

Fall announced leases on Reserve No. 1 to two com- panies based on claims held prior to the withdrawal of the land by Taft. In making this announcement, Secre- tary Fall failed to disclose that on this very same day, April 7, he had signed a 20 -year lease, granting to Harry

F. Sinclair's Mammoth Oil Company the right to drill and take oil and gas from the entire area of Teapot Dome.^^ The Government was to receive royalties of 12.5 to 50 percent on the production of the wells. When production reached 20,000 barrels of oil a day. Mam- moth was to build a pipeline from Teapot Dome east to connect with the main trunk line from Kansas City to Chicago and to the Gulf in order to run the Govern- ment's royalty oil. Inasmuch as the Sinclair Pipe Line was already planning to build a pipeline from Chicago to Wyoming to offset high freight costs. Mammoth, which was without any facilities, designated the Sinclair Pipe Line as its nominee to carry the oil from Teapot Dome and the Sinclair Crude Oil Purchasing Company as its nominee to buy the oil and erect storage tanks at Teapot Dome. Both of these Sinclair companies were one-half owned by Standard Oil Company (Indiana).

What had been secret and private information until now became public information on April 14 when the Wall Street Journal carried a front-page story about the leasing of Teapot Dome. Four days later, while Fall was away on a trip. Acting Secretary of the Interior Edward

G. Finney formally announced the leasing of Teapot Dome to Mammoth. At the same time, Finney also an- nounced that Edward L. Doheny 's Pan American Petro- leum and Transport Company was being awarded a lease on parts of the Elk Hills Naval Petroleum Reserve No. 1 (dated June 5, 1922) under which the Navy's royalty oil from the reserve was to be exchanged for storage tanks, docks, wharves and other facilities for fueling the fleet that Doheny would build at Pearl Har- bor. He also announced the signing of a contract (dated April 25, 1922) under which Doheny was to provide storage for 1,500,000 barrels of fuel oil and for the

17

delivery of that amount of oil for storage.^* The idea of having Doheny build storage tanks and docks in ex- change for the Navy's royalty oil was a clever scheme worked out by Fall whereby the Navy could by-pass Con- gress and use the money from its oil royalties to build storage tanks, docks and other needed facilities at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.^'

In the meantime. Fall's actions with respect to the Naval Petroleum Reserves had created suspicions and distrust among conservation leaders. It wasn't surpris- ing, therefore, that LaFollette prompted by Slattery took two steps. He introduced a resolution in the Senate on April 21, 1922, asking Fall to send to the Senate all the facts about the leasing of the Naval Petroleum Reserves No. 1, 2 and 3, a list of all oil leases, and all executive orders and papers, instructions, requests and actions re- lating to them in the files of the Interior Department.^* The adoption of this resolution by the Senate marked the beginning of the war on Fall.

Since Fall had failed to explain or justify his recent leasing of the Naval Petroleum Reserves in any way LaFollette decided as a second step that he must try to smoke him out by calling for a Senate investigation. On the afternoon of April 28 LaFollette made a scathing speech in the Senate attacking both Fall and Denby. A number of Republicans were in their seats when LaFollette began speaking, but by the time he had fin- ished most of them had withdrawn from the chamber. LaFollette asked that the Senate Committee on Public Lands and Surveys be authorized to investigate the leas- ing of the Naval Petroleum Reserves and report its find- ings and recommendations to the Senate. The next afternoon, after a brief debate, the Senate adopted LaFollette's resolution by a unanimous vote: 58-0.^^ Thirty-nine Republicans voted for an investigation of their party's administration.

The Senate Committee on Public Lands and Surveys was composed of many Republican party stalwarts in- cluding Reed Smoot of Utah (the Chairman), and Irvine Lenroot of Wisconsin. Three insurgent Republican Sen- ators, George W. Norris of Nebraska, Edwin E. Ladd of North Dakota and Peter Norbeck of South Dakota were also on the committee along with two Democrats, Thomas J. Walsh of Montana and John B. Kendrick of Wyoming.

LaFollette urged Walsh, an able constitutional lawyer and a man of integrity, to take the leadership in conducting the investigation. Walsh accepted with hesitation and reluctance. LaFollette gave Walsh all the evidence he had gathered on Fall and Walsh suddenly received more material than he could handle.

Unlike Nixon in the Watergate investigation. Secre- tary Fall did not invoke the doctrine of executive priv- ilege in responding to LaFollette's resolution requesting all the facts, papers, records and files of the Interior Department relating to the oil leases. In June, 1922, Fall sent to the Senate a truck load of documents (5,000- 6,000 pages). ^^ They arrived along with a letter of transmittal from President Harding in which he said that "the policy which has been adopted by the Secre- tary of the Navy and the Secretary of the Interior in dealing with these matters was submitted to me prior to the adoption thereof, and the policy decided upon and the subsequent acts have at all times had my entire ap- proval."^' Fall included a full and comprehensive report on the naval reserve oil leases.

The Senate committee hearings did not begin until 18 months after the Senate had approved the investiga- tion. Between June, 1922 and October, 1923— some 16 months — Walsh made a "laborious study" of the mass of evidence and became increasingly aroused over what he considered Fall's misconduct in office.

While waiting for the hearings to begin. Fall con- tinued to dispose of the oil reserves at his command. ^^ On December 15, the Wall Street Journal reported that Doheny had secured an extension of his earlier contract of April 25, 1922, in which he had been granted prefer- ential rights to further leases. In time, it was learned that Fall had also leased to Doheny the entire Elk Hills Reserve.

On January 2, 1923, eight months after the Senate had adopted LaFollette's resolution to investigate the leasing of the Naval Petroleum Reserves, the White House announced that Fall had entered the Cabinet at a great financial sacrifice. Now he was resigning, effective March 4, in order to devote his time to his business af- fairs in the Southwest. The real reason, many believed, was the thought of the coming investigation of the naval oil leases. Later that spring. Fall traveled to Russia with

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Harry F. Sinclair who was seeking an oil concession there.

The Public Lands Committee made a feeble gesture toward activity in early February, 1923, when Smoot, the chairman, asked the Director of the Geological Survey for a list of the "principal" geologists in the U.S. From this list the committee selected two to examine Teapot Dome and report to the committee as soon as possible.

While the geologists wandered around Teapot Dome, Harding acted to strengthen his political posi- tion.^^ He was surrounded by difficulties. The Congres- sional elections of the past autumn had reduced his Republican majority to eight in the Senate and five in the House. The farm bloc, including insurgent Repub- licans, now held the balance of power in Congress that blocked the administration's legislative program. The Department of Justice, headed by Daugherty, was reported to be lush with corruption. One of Harding's "Ohio Gang," Jesse Smith of the Justice Department, had died either from murder or suicide. There were rumors of looting by the Alien Property Custodian and by Charles R. Forbes, director of the Veterans Bureau. There were the stories about the little green house on K Street.

On June 20, 1923, the President left Washington on a transcontinental tour to Alaska, then down the West Coast to Seattle. By the end of the month he was in San Francisco. On the night of July 28, the President became ill and on August 2, he suddenly died. The cause of death was stated to be an embolism, according to his doctors. But how, asked William Allen White, editor of the Emporia Gazette in Kansas, could doctors diagnose an illness that was "part terror, part shame and part ut- ter confusion?"^'' Before he left Washington, Harding had discovered that some of his friends in the Ohio gang, whom he trusted, had betrayed him and this seemed to be more than he could bear.

In the meantime, Calvin Coolidge, the Vice Presi- dent, became President. When he asked William Howard Taft what to do now that he was President, Taft told him "do nothing."'^ Accordingly, Coolidge re- mained quiet and did almost nothing for months.

On October 22, 1923, at 10 a.m., Smoot called the Senate Committee on Public Lands and Surveys to order in the Senate Office Building and the hearings on the oil leases began. ^® Shortly thereafter. Teapot Dome began to engross the nation's attention just like Watergate did, as one "bomb" after another was dropped.

Reports from the two geologists, who had been employed by the committee to examine Teapot Dome, were heard on the first day. They testified that Teapot Dome, originally estimated to contain about 150,000,000 barrels of oil contained less than 70 percent of this amount and that the existing reserve was draining steadily into the adjacent areas. Smoot made the most of

Senator John B. Kendrick

their testimony — saying the action of Fall had been en- tirely justified. Fall, Denby, Sinclair and various naval officers and other government employees then appeared before the committee. ^^

Walsh was a lonely prosecutor during these first weeks. Republicans Smoot and Lenroot, if not hostile, were unprepared to investigate and Kendrick was a reluctant participant. Most of the Republican members, except Norris, and some of the Democratic members on the committee were not anxious to stir up trouble.

Late in October, 1923, there was a rumor that Walsh was about to abandon his search for fraud in the leasing of Teapot Dome when stories began to reach him about Fall and some land deals in New Mexico. There- fore, he began calling witnesses from New Mexico. One, Carl Magee, a newspaper editor from Albuquerque, tes- tified how Fall, about the time he leased Teapot Dome, had suddenly shown evidence of financial well-being, had substantially increased his fortune, and had made beautiful improvements on his ranch at Three Rivers, New Mexico.^* This was in striking contrast to the cir- cumstances of several years past, when Fall seemed almost penniless. In fact. Senator Fall needed money so badly in February, 1920, that he could no longer afford to be Senator from New Mexico. He resigned his seat in order to recoup his fortunes and returned to his isolated, run-down ranch at Three Rivers, New Mexico, on which he could not even pay the taxes. Other Fall neighbors or acquaintances substantiated what Magee had said.

J. T. Johnson, Fall's ranch manager at Three Rivers, testified that Harry Sinclair had visited Fall at his ranch around Christmas of 1921.^* Johnson also stated that

19

Freight teams leaving Casper for Salt Creek and Teapot Dome.

Fall lately had acquired several registered hogs, bulls and cows from Sinclair's farm in New Jersey.

When Sinclair appeared before the committee for the second time, he brought his secretary and accoun- tant, G. D. Wahlberg, who displayed an account book showing receipts of payments from Fall for the livestock. Sinclair denied giving Fall a gift of any kind in return for the lease on Teapot Dome.'"'

At the end of 1923, Fall, from his sick bed in his Washington apartment, sent Smoot a statement of his financial condition. He declared that in order to enlarge his ranch holdings in New Mexico, he had borrowed $100,000 in cash from Edward B. McLean, publisher of the Washington Post, in November, 1921.

The flow of witnesses continued unabated, but the general impression in Washington was that Walsh was up against a stone wall. Both Denby and Fall, like Sinclair and Doheny, had denied under oath any collu- sion over the naval oil reserves, and Walsh could not prove otherwise.

On January 3, 1924, McLean's lawyer, A. Mitchell Palmer, wrote Lenroot, Smoot's replacement as chair- man of the Senate Committee. Palmer had discussed Fall's story with McLean, now in Florida, and McLean would give the committee a complete statement about the loan to Fall, but he could not appear before the committee since he was in Florida and sick."^ He would, however, be glad to answer all questions in Palm Beach. The Senate Committee, therefore, appointed Walsh as a subcommittee of one to go to Florida to take testimony and issue subpoenas to require McLean or any other witnesses to appear and testify before him.

20

On January 12 in Palm Beach, Walsh began ques- tioning McLean who "dumbfounded" him when McLean denied lending Fall the money at all. He said he had given Fall several checks, but they had all been returned uncashed. Fall happened to be in Palm Beach as the guest of McLean while Walsh was there, but he refused to appear before Walsh. However, Fall in a statement admitted that he did not finally use the money from McLean because he had found other sources in no way connected with Sinclair or Teapot Dome or any oil concession."" Fall had lied again. His admitted lie made dramatic and sensational news. It was a lie that Fall deeply regretted the rest of his life and his critics never allowed him to forget it.

The Teapot Dome inquiry, close to expiration days earlier, now came alive. Any Republican hope for a quick ending of the inquiry, which was damaging the party's prestige, disappeared. Where had the $100,000 come from? That was the most important question now. Ugly rumors and gossip in Washington and in news- papers throughout the country were pressing for an answer.

On January 24, 1924, in the presence of newspaper- men, senators and spectators, Doheny calmly testified before the Senate Committee that he, not McLean, on November 30, 1921 , had loaned Fall the $100,000 on his promissory note to enable Fall to enlarge his ranch in New Mexico. Doheny's son, Edward, Jr., had carried the $100,000 in cash from the bank to Fall's office "in a little black bag.'"""

This was sensational news that made headlines. Fall and Doheny had been friends for over 30 years. They

had prospected together for gold in the West years ago. Fall had suffered recent financial troubles while Doheny had become quite rich. According to Doheny, the loan had no relation to the Elk Hills lease of 1922; Pan American had made the best bid. Later during Doheny 's testimony, he produced the note signed by Fall when he received the 1 100, 000 loan, but Fall's signature had been torn off.""* Doheny himself had torn off the signature from the note because if he should die before Fall could repay the loan, Doheny did not want Fall to be pressed for repayment to the Doheny estate at an in- convenient time. He gave the signature to his wife so Doheny and his wife together held Fall's note and signature.

When Doheny revealed that he had loaned Fall $100,000, Congress quickly passed a resolution which was approved by the President on February 8, 1924, authorizing and directing the President to file suit to cancel all contracts and leases on the Naval Petroleum Reserves No. 1 and No. 3, recover the land, and employ special counsel to take charge of the prosecution. ""^

While the Senate hearings continued, the cry went unabated that the leasing of Teapot Dome must have been discussed in Cabinet meetings. Coolidge claimed that he had never heard the leases discussed in any of Harding's Cabinet meetings nor could Secretary of State Hughes, Secretary of War John W. Weeks or Secretary of Commerce Herbert Hoover."" Daughtery, the At- torney General, insisted that his legal opinion on the leases was never asked nor given and he knew nothing about the leases until the matter came up for investiga- tion. The Coolidge administration's position seemed in peril and its future status in doubt despite these denials.

The next day after Doheny's statement, J. W. Zeve- ly, a lawyer for Sinclair, further involved Fall. He testi- fied that when Sinclair asked Fall to go with him to Russia, Fall needed $25,000 for personal business af- fairs. Sinclair told his secretary, G. D. Wahlberg to give Zevely $25,000 or $30,000 in bonds, if Fall should ask Zevely for it, which Fall did. Wahlberg sent the bonds to Fall's bank in El Paso."** The loan had never been repaid and no interest had ever been paid. By now, Coolidge and the Republican Party spokesmen seemingly had had enough. It was time to stop defending Fall and protect the Republican party.

It was about this time that Coolidge asked Henry Slattery to the White House so he could learn the com- plete story. ""^ Apparently Coolidge had not known very much about the whole affair. When Slattery finished and had answered Coolidge's questions, Coolidge moved into action. Administration leaders, greatly worried over the political effect of Teapot Dome, agreed that the gov- ernment should take positive steps against the guilty, cancel the leases and restore the oil properties to the government. Bowing to public and party pressures, Coolidge issued a statement on Sunday, January 27, pro-

posing to employ special counsel and bring suit to cancel the oil leases. The next day the House of Representa- tives, by a nearly unanimous vote, passed a resolution appropriating $100,000 to pay for Coolidge's special counsel. Coolidge selected two men to be special counsel. They were Silas H. Strawn of Chicago, a Re- publican, and Thomas W. Gregory of New York City, a Democrat and Attorney-General in Wilson's Cabinet. Both men accepted, subject to Senate approval.

On January 31, Senator James A. Reed of Missouri asked that Doheny be recalled for further testimony be- fore the Public Lands Committee. Reed knew precisely what he wanted from Doheny and what the Committee should ask him. Reed's action was prompted by the fact that he le^ a powerful and bitter minority opposed to the presidential nomination of William Gibbs McAdoo by the Democratic party in 1924. McAdoo was favored for the Democratic nomination, but Reed wanted the presidential nomination himself. He arranged to cause problems for the McAdoo camp. He got Lenroot to recall Doheny to testify and ask him this question: "Have you employed any Cabinet officer (other than Franklin K. Lane) subsequent to his retiring from the Cabinet?"^" Doheny replied that he had hired several and among them were Thomas W. Gregory and William Gibbs McAdoo. McAdoo had been a member of a law firm Doheny had employed to represent him in Washington in connection with some Mexican oil matters. Doheny had paid the firm $100,000 in November, 1919. Beginn- ing on March 1, 1922, McAdoo had been paid an an- nual retainer of $25,000 per year.

Until now the scandal had been almost exclusively Republican. Now the leading Democratic candidate for President had been smeared with oil and linked by im- plication to the Teapot Dome case and his reputation was damaged beyond repair. The Democrats were dis- mayed. They had hoped to make the oil leases an issue in the campaign of 1924 but it would be embarrassing to nominate a man who had been employed by Doheny.

The next day Gregory withdrew as a Coolidge nominee for special counsel because his firm had repre- sented Doheny. In his place, Coolidge nominated Atlee Pomerene, a former Democratic Senator from Ohio. Albert J. Beveridge writing at this time to Gifford Pin- chot said: "Lord, but the country is howling."^' There were demands that the entire Coolidge Cabinet should resign. Bruce Bliven, writing in The New Republic, wrote that Washington was "wading shoulder-deep in oil. Newspaper correspondents wrote of nothing else, and in hotel lobbies, on the streets, and at dinner tables, oil was the only subject of discussion. Congress had abandoned all other business. No one knows what each day may bring forth. . . ."^^

When Lenroot notified Coolidge that the Senate Committee on Public Lands and Surveys would report adversely on Silas Strawn, Coolidge withdrew his name

21

and nominated Owen J. Roberts, a Philadelphia lawyer, as the Republican counsel on February 15. In the Senate, a bitter debate raged over the confirmation of Roberts and Pomerene. It was charged that neither man knew enough about public land laws and issues but, in the end, both were confirmed and commissioned on February 19.

On the previous day, the 18th, Denby, the Secretary of the Navy, resigned, effective March 10, after holding out for many difficult weeks.

With Denby out, the heat was turned on Daugherty in full force. He was a friend of McLean, Sinclair and Doheny, his department had not offered one bit of evidence during the Senate investigation and Daugherty was charged with protecting crime and criminals and selling immunity from prosecution. Senator Wheeler of- fered a resolution calling for the investigation of Daugh- erty. Several Republican senators went to the White House to tell Coolidge that Daugherty should retire for the good of the party. Some Republicans opposed the maneuver, and there was talk of a split in the Repub- lican party.

Coolidge, in character, for the moment did nothing. Senator Albert J. Beveridge was gravely concerned over the fact that ordinary citizens believed that "nobody is straight about anything." Major newspapers over the country editorialized on political immorality and the lack of leadership in the Republican party. On the last day of February, the Democrats in the Senate, without mercy or restraint, flayed Daugherty, the administration which had sheltered him and the oil scandal which had enveloped him. The Republicans simply sat in silence.

The next day, the Senate passed the Wheeler resolu- tion to investigate Daugherty for failing to prosecute Fall, Sinclair, Doheny and other grafters. On the 1 2th the special investigating committee began its hearings. As stories came out about Daugherty, the little green house on K Street and Roxy Stinson, the divorced wife of Daugherty's late close friend, Jesse Smith, the pressure on Coolidge steadily mounted. After Secretary Hoover and Secretary Hughes went to Coolidge and asked him to replace Daugherty, Coolidge on March 27 sent a note to Daugherty saying he was expecting his resignation at once. The next day, Daugherty resigned but he never faced any court charges for any wrongs committed as Attorney-General.

As April gave way to May, there were no new revela- tions in the Senate Committee. Teapot Dome was buried deep in the inside pages of the daily press. At the hearings the storm of fruitful testimony had died away. Monotonous questioning of geologists and oil experts about drainage replaced the earlier sharp examination of sundry political figures. Attendance at the hearings fell off; there was not a single spectator in attendance on May 8.

The end of the inquiry was now in sight. On May 2, 22

Senator Francis E. Warren, chairman of the Appropria- tions Committee, reported to the Senate that the Teapot Dome investigation up to April 16, 1924, had cost $32,808.03. On May 14 Walsh suggested that the com- mittee adjourn subject to the call of the Chairman. Until 1928 Teapot Dome, as a political issue, was relatively quiet.

With the Senate Committee inactive, the initiative now passed to the President's special counsel, Owen Roberts and Atlee Pomerene. They had been at work since early March preparing for legal action. On March II, 1924, they left Washington, D.C., for Cheyenne, Wyoming. On the 1 2th the special prosecutors filed suit in the name of the U.S. against the Mammoth Oil Com- pany, the Sinclair Pipe Line Company and the Sinclair Crude Oil Purchasing Company in the U.S. District Court at Cheyenne. The action sought to cancel the agreement of April 7, 1922, and the supplemental lease of February 9, 1923, relating to the leasing of Teapot Dome, on the ground that the United States had been defrauded by Fall and Sinclair and that the lease was ex- ecuted without legal authority. ^^ The government asked for a restraining order, a decree nullifying the agree- ment, the appointment of receivers, a final injunction against the defendants, a decree for accounting, and a decree for ousting both the Sinclair Crude Oil Purchas- ing Company and the Sinclair Pipe Line Company from Teapot Dome. The two Sinclair companies had been made defendants because their rights were derived from Mammoth and the government alleged that both were trespassers. The court issued a temporary restraining order, appointed receivers, and set the trial for De- cember 20.

From Cheyenne the special prosecutors went to Los Angeles where they were granted an injunction from a federal court against Doheny's Pan American Petroleum and Transport Company restraining further exploration of the Naval Reserve at Elk Hills. On March 17 they fil- ed suit against Pan American, charging fraud by Fall and Doheny and the lack of legal authority by Fall to lease the Naval Oil Reserve No. I.

Sinclair not only faced charges in Cheyenne but he also had to face grand jury charges in Washington, D.C., for contempt of the Senate. He had appeared before the Teapot Dome Senate Committee on March 22, 1924, to answer questions about his 1920 campaign contributions but he refused to answer any questions on the ground that the committee was without jurisdiction to question him further regarding the lease of Teapot Dome. Ten times (and for the same reason each time) Sinclair refused to answer on advice of counsel.^''

At its next session the Senate voted to ask for grand jury action against Sinclair for refusing to testify. On March 31 the grand jury indicted Sinclair for contempt of the Senate. The indictment was the first of its V-:id in Washington in 35 years." Despite the distinction.

Sinclair pleaded not guilty and his lawyers began to prepare a defense. Sinclair gave bond and gained his freedom, pending trial.

Early in June, 1924, Walsh submitted his report to the Senate Committee on Public Lands and Surveys. In turn, the committee sent a majority report to the Senate that was in substantial conformity with that of Walsh. ^^ The report was signed by Chairman Ladd and seven other committee members, all of them Democrats or Progressive Republicans. The report charged Fall with utter disregard of the law and an unwarranted assump- tion of authority. It denounced the transactions center- ing around the oil leases as "essentially corrupt."

There were mixed public reactions to the report. However, historian Joseph Schafer, writing in 1940, called Walsh's report "a masterly statement of the entire case, written in a judicial vein, without rancor and with

Early oil strike, Salt Creek Oil Field, north of Teapot Dome.

scrupulous care not to overstep the evidence."^' Senator Spencer of Missouri presented a statement signed by five minority members saying that they had not been given sufficient time to read the Walsh report, although the minority members had received a copy of the report as soon as other members of the committee and the entire committee had spent two days considering it.^* The minority also objected to some of Walsh's interpreta- tions. The Senate, on January 20, 1925, adopted the Walsh majority report. The hearings of the Senate Com- mittee on Public Lands and Survey were later published in three stout volumes containing 3,586 pages.

While the Senate Committee hearings on Teapot Dome were coming to a close and the special prosecutors were preparing for the civil suit against Mammoth at Cheyenne, government agents in examining the records of certain banks in the West in which Fall had accounts, found reference to 3.5 percent Liberty bonds along with a list of their numbers. Through the Treasury Depart- ment they traced the bonds to stockholders in the Con- tinental Trading Company, Ltd., a Canadian corpora- tion, which had purchased a total of $3,080,000 in these Liberty bonds. This was another sensational develop- ment because Continental had been secretly organized and no one knew anything about it. Roberts and Pom- erene, therefore, filed an affidavit in a Toronto court, requesting authorization to take a deposition from H. S. Osier, president of Continental, who lived in Ontario.

Continental had been organized in November, 1921, in New York City by H. M. Blackmer, chairman of the board of the Midwest Refining Company; James E. O'Neil, president of the Prairie Oil and Gas Com- pany; Harry F. Sinclair, head of Sinclair Consolidated Oil Corporation; and Colonel R. W. Stewart, chairman of Standard Oil Company ( Indiana). ''' This group as private individuals had been incorporated in Canada as the Continential Trading Company, Ltd. On November 17, 1921, Continental contracted with the Humphreys Texas Company and the Humphreys Mexia Company to purchase 33,333,333 barrels of crude oil at $1.50 a bar- rel. On the same day. Continental sold this contract to the Sinclair Crude Oil Purchasing Company and the Prairie Oil and Gas Company, jointly, for $1.75 a bar- rel. Sinclair Crude Oil Purchasing and Prairie took delivery of the oil directly from Humphreys and paid for it through Continental which netted a profit of more than $2,000,000. It invested the profit in Liberty Bonds buying them through a New York agency of the Domi- nion Bank of Canada. Osier then distributed these bonds to Continental's shareholders.

Roberts and Pomerene were anxious to question Osier and others in Canada, hoping to learn who owned Continental stock and received the bonds. ^^ When Con- tinental went out of business in February, 1923, it had destroyed all books and papers, but the U.S. Govern- ment, fortunately, had the numbers of the bonds, and

23

the Secret Service agents had already traced $90,000 worth of them to Fall. Consequently, Continental was related to Teapot Dome and Roberts and Pomerene had good reason to investigate Continental.

The Ontario Supreme Court directed Osier to ap- pear in Toronto before the U.S. Consul and answer questions, but Osier was hunting elephants in Africa. Blackmer and O'Neil were living in France and refused to appear and testify. Sinclair was under indictment for the Teapot Dome lease and could refuse to testify. Federal marshals could not find Colonel Stewart.

Roberts and Pomerene had more immediate success in California. After a protracted trial, the Judge of the U.S. District Court in Los Angeles on May 28, 1925, held that Doheny's loan to Fall was a bribe that had in- duced Fall to grant Doheny the lease on the Elk Hills Reserve.®' According to the court, Fall and Doheny were guilty of fraud and conspiracy while Harding had ex- ceeded his presidential powers in making the transfer of the reserves to Fall. The court also found that Denby's role in the deal was "passive." The Judge cancelled the contract between the Government and Doheny's Pan American Petroleum Company. He charged Pan Amer- ican for all the oil it had extracted but directed the government to pay for the work Doheny had done under the contract at Pearl Harbor.

Doheny appealed the decision. The U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in San Francisco upheld the District Court's decision against Doheny in the Elk Hills case. Doheny appealed. The Supreme Court in a unanimous decision on February 23, 1927, cancelled Doheny's lease on Elk Hills and returned the Naval Petroleum Reserve to the Govenment. It refused to order repayment by the Government of any money Doheny and his company had spent on Elk Hills or at Pearl Harbor.®^ It also held that the Secretary of the Navy, Denby, "took no active part in the negotiations and that Fall acting collusively with Doheny, dominated the making of the contracts and leases."

At Cheyenne, on June 19, 1925, the Government lost its suit against Mammoth. Judge Kennedy of the U.S. District Court upheld Sinclair's lease on Teapot Dome and found against the Government on every point that Roberts and Pomerene had raised, upheld the authority of Fall and Denby to make the lease and Har- ding to transfer the reserves.®^ Despite the adverse de- cision, Roberts and Pomerene managed to establish the fraudulent character of the Continental Trading Com- pany and to demonstrate that Fall — or he and his busi- ness associates had received a total of at least $233,000 in Liberty Bonds from Continental's profits. The Judge dismissed as unproven the charge of collusion between Sinclair and Fall. The Government had been unable to offer direct proof that Fall had received any Continental bonds from Sinclair. Roberts and Pomerene appealed the decision. 24

On September 28, 1926, the United States 8th Cir- cuit Court of Appeals, in the suit against Mammoth, held that the leases were procured through fraud and corruption and should be cancelled.^'' The Circuit Court instructed the District Court to enter a decree cancelling the lease and contract as fraudulent, enjoining the defendants from further trespassing on the reserve, and providing for a general accounting by Mammoth for the value of all oil taken from the reserve under the lease. The defendants appealed and on October 10, 1927, the Supreme Court in a unanimous decision sustained the decision of the Circuit Court and restored Teapot Dome to the complete ownership and control of the govern- ment. It declared the lease to be a culmination of a con- spiracy between Fall and Sinclair, "the purpose of which was to circumvent the law and defeat public policy." It assailed the drainage argument given by Fall as a reason for leasing Teapot Dome.

These two decisions of the U.S. Supreme Court end- ed the civil trials in the history of Teapot Dome and Elk Hills. On March 17, 1927, Coolidge revoked Harding's executive order of May 31, 1921, transferring the naval oil reserves from the Navy Department to the Interior Department, and two months later the Secretary of the Navy formally took over the reserves from the Secretary of the Interior.

The first of six criminal trials arising out of the in- vestigation of the oil leases began on November 22, 1926, when Doheny and Fall were tried in the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia on the charge of con- spiracy.®^ On December 16 the jury acquitted both men.

Sinclair was also on trial at this time, and on March 17, 1927, in the Criminal Branch of the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia, a jury found him guilty of contempt of the Senate for refusing to answer questions before the committee. He immediately appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court. Ultimately, on October 17, in the same court, Sinclair and Fall went on trial for con- spiracy.®®

For two weeks the trial proceeded smoothly when suddenly Pomerene moved for a mistrial, charging an improper surveillance of the jury by agents of the Bums Detective Agency who had been hired by Sinclair. The judge ordered a mistrial and discharged the jury. For this lastest action, Sinclair drew another contempt ver- dict in February, 1928, and was sentenced to six months in jail. Sinclair appealed. On April 8, 1929, the U.S. Supreme Court affirmed Sinclair's three-month sen- tence for contempt of the Senate Public Land and Surveys Committee and on June 4, it affirmed his six- month sentence for criminal contempt of court. On May 6, 1929, Sinclair went to jail.

Shortly after the judge declared a mistrial in the trial of Sinclair and Fall on the conspiracy charge, Roberts and Pomerene sought a retrial. Fall was ill at his home in El Paso and gained a delay. With Sinclair

standing alone before the court, the new conspiracy trial began on April 9, 1928.

In the meantime, the Senate Committee on Public Lands and Surveys began a second though briefer in- quiry into Teapot Dome and the Continental Trading Company.*' Prompted by Paul Y. Anderson, a reporter for the St. Louts Post-Dispatch, Senator George W. Nor- ris introduced a resolution on January 4, 1928, ordering the committee to trace all of the Liberty Bonds of Con- tinental and find out the names of the beneficiaries.** Fall presumably had $233,000 of the original investment of about $3,080,000 but who held the other $2,747,000? Without debate or a dissenting vote, the Senate adopted Norris' resolution and on January 24, 1928, the commit- tee swung Teapot Dome back into the glare of public scrutiny. The chairman of the committee was Senator Gerald P. Nye, Republican of North Dakota, and once again Walsh was the prosecutor.

The first witness, M. T. Everhart, son-in-law of Fall, admitted that in May, 1922, in Washington and New York, Sinclair delivered to him $233,000 in Liberty Bonds, all of which went to Fall.** In addition, Sinclair later "loaned" Fall an additional $36,000. These amounts of money plus those previously uncovered by the Senate Committee made Sinclair's contribution to Fall about $304,000. Counting the loan of $100,000 plus an additional $5,000 from Doheny meant Fall had re- ceived at least $409,000 from Sinclair and Doheny. On February 2, Colonel R. W. Stewart of Standard of In- diana refused to tell anything about the disposition of the $3,000,000 profit of Continental. He declared that he got none of it and had nothing to do with the distri- bution.'"

Some of the pressures and publicity shifted to the leaders of the Republican Party on February 11, 1928, when the Senate Committee received a report that $24,000 of Continental's profits had helped to wipe out part of the Republican campaign deficit of 1920. Naturally, Will Hays, the 1920 Republican National Chairman, immediately denied any knowledge of it. John T. Adams, Republican Chairman from 1921 to 1924, also claimed he knew absolutely nothing of any Continental bonds. In February, there was evidence that Blackmer had deposited $300,000 in Liberty Bonds to the credit of the Republican National Committee, most- ly in the Chase National Bank in November and Decem- ber, 1923." In March, Will Hays finally testified that Sinclair had given him $260,000 for the Republican campaign fund. Of this amount, $100,000 was later returned to Sinclair.'^

In a letter to Walsh on March 10, 1928, Secretary of the Treasury Andrew Mellon said that late in the fall of 1923, he had received $50,000 in Liberty Bonds from Will Hays, who had accepted them from Sinclair. '^ Hays wanted Mellon to keep the bonds and turn an equal amount of cash over to the Republican National Com-

mittee which Mellon refused to do. He returned the bonds and made a $50,000 contribution of his own funds to the deficit. William M. Butler, the current Republican chairman, also testified that in 1923 Hays offered him $25,000 in bonds in return for cash but Butler, like Mellon, refused.'" Senator Borah was so outraged by the Continental bonds given to the Repub- lican party that he launched a movement to raise con- tributions of $1,000 and up to repay Sinclair and clear the party of this stigma.'^ All he could raise by March 30 was about $8,000 so he returned the money to con- tributors.

The Continental Trading Company inquiry never reached the intensity of the 1924 investigation. However, by the last of April, the Senate Committee had determined that $769,000 of Continental's profit had gone to Henry Blackmer; about $800,000 to James O'Neil; $759,500 to Colonel Stewart (who had turned over his share plus $38,000 in interest to the Sinclair Crude Oil Purchasing Company); $160,000 to Will Hays to help pay off the Republican deficit; $233,000 to Albert Fall and $757,000 to Sinclair (who had recently turned over his share plus $142,000 in interest to the Sinclair Crude Oil Purchasing Company).'*

The Senate Committee met briefly on May 31 for the last time and the investigation of Teapot Dome came to an end. Before adjourning, Walsh and Nye submitted separate reports on the Continental inquiry to the Senate." In his report, Walsh did not mince words about the organizers of Continental. His remarks about Will Hays, Andrew Mellon and Sinclair were acrid. Ac- cording to Walsh, the Continental Trading Company "was a contemptible private steal, the speculations of trusted officers of great industrial houses, pilfering from their own companies, robbing their own stockhold- ers. . . ." According to Nye's report, the Senate investi- gation had "uncovered the slimiest of slimy trails beaten by privilege. ... It is a trail of dishonesty, greed, viola- tion of the law, secrecy, concealment, evasion, falsehood and cunning."

The expense of the Continental inquiry, which had resulted in the recovery for the government slightly in excess of $2,000,000, with the prospect of getting more, had been $14,165.'* The hearings of the Committee on the Continental Trading Company, which ended on May 31, 1928, were published in one volume, consisting of 1,307 pages.

As the hearings of the Senate Committee came to an end, the Federal District Court at Cheyenne made an accounting in the case against Mammoth at Teapot Dome. Final judgment was entered on August 17, 1928, and Mammoth was ordered to pay the U.S. $2,294,597.74 for 1,430,024.7 barrels of crude oil taken from Teapot Dome to which it was not legally entitled.'* Since Mammoth was unable to pay, the government filed suit against the Sinclair Crude Oil Purchasing

25

Company for $2,294,597.74 plus 7 per cent interest as the purchaser of the oil from Mammoth. This was not- withstanding the fact that Sinclair Crude Oil Purchasing had already made full payment to Mammoth. The gov- ernment also claimed title to 17 storage tanks each with a capacity of 75,000 barrels and equipment which had been erected and paid for by Sinclair Crude Oil Pur- chasing on Teapot Dome. Before the case came to trial Sinclair Oil Purchasing and the government reached an agreement under which the government agreed to pay the company $170,000 for the 17 steel storage tanks while the company agreed to pay $2,906,484.32 for the oil and all expenses of the litigation.

After the cancellation of the Elk Hills Reserve the government collected $34,981,449.62 from Doheny for the oil drilled and taken from the reserve.*"

Beginning on April 10, 1928, while the Continental hearing neared its climax, Sinclair went on trial for con- spiracy to defraud the government in the District of Col- umbia Supreme Court. Fall was too ill to stand trial but he had given Pomerene a private deposition to the effect that he did not receive one cent from Sinclair for the Teapot Dome leases. Sinclair's trial lasted less than two weeks and the jury acquitted Sinclair.*'

The U.S. Supreme Court had previously nullified the Teapot Dome lease and condemned it as the cul- mination of a conspiracy between Fall and Sinclair. Now a jury had acquitted Sinclair of any conspiracy with Fall. "The acquittal " was the greatest surprise Washington had had in years. Roberts and Pomerene were "dumb- founded " at the decision and sat in silence.

On October 7, 1929, Fall finally appeared for trial in a District of Columbia court on the charge of accept- ing a bribe from Doheny. On October 23 the jury found him guilty but recommended leniency. He was frail in health and emaciated in appearance. In view of his physical condition the judge sentenced him to a year in prison and fined him $100,000. Fall appealed but the District of Columbia Appellate Court upheld the sentence and the U.S. Supreme Court refused to review his case. Since Fall suffered from chronic tuberculosis, he was allowed to serve his term in an agreeable climate at the New Mexico State Prison in the high country near Santa Fe. On July 20, 1931, he entered the prison. It was the first time in American history that a Cabinet officer had been convicted of a felony and served a prison sentence."^

After a brief trial in March, 1930, a jury in the same District of Columbia court found Doheny not guilty of bribing Fall.*^ Senator George W. Norris had earlier said that "it is impossible to convict a hundred million dollars in the U.S." In view of Sinclair and Doheny's ac- quittal Fail's conviction seemed an injustice at its worst.

Teapot Dome's legal history ended with the Fall and Doheny verdicts. Thereafter, Fall, broken in spirit and health and without money, withered and brooded for 13 26

years. On May 9, 1932, he left the Santa Fe prison after serving nine months and nineteen days of his sentence, most of it in the prison hospital. He had not paid and would never pay the $100,000 fine. Agents of the De- partment of Justice investigated and found he was unable to pay it. Fall was virtually penniless by the time he entered prison. The Department of Justice petitioned the Court to amend his commitment and allow him to go free without paying the $100,000.""

Three years after his release, a reporter who visited him found Fall a pathetic, broken old man. In 1925, through foreclosure, he had lost his great 700,000-acre ranch at Three Rivers.

After Fall's release from prison, Mrs. Fall earned money operating a store in Three Rivers, a restaurant in El Paso and by home canning fruits and vegetables. After being evicted from Three Rivers ranch, the Falls lived in their home in El Paso. It was a pretty shabby place. In time. Fall became permanently hospitalized. On November 30, 1944, while he was reading his heart stopped. Mrs. Fall already had died in March, 1943.

1. Burt Noggle, Teapot Dome: Oil and Politics in the 1920's. (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1962), (New York: W. W. Norton and Company, Inc., 1965.), p. 144.

2. The New York Times. November 25, 1973; The Washington Post, June 17, 1977.

3. The New York Times, June 22, 1977.

4. "Report of the Secretary of the Navy for 1864," House Executive Document No. 1, 38th Cong. 2nd. Sess.. p. 1096. (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1864) "Report of the Secretary of the Navy for 1867." House Executive Document No. 1, 40th Cong. 2nd. Sess. pp. 173-175; The Venango Spectator, (Franklin, Pa.), June 28, 1867; The Titusvilte Herald {Va.). ]u\y 10, 1867. Giddens, Pennsylvania Petroleum 1750-1872: A Doc- umentary History, (Titusville: Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, 1947). pp. 252-253, 317-325. Giddens. "When Oil Joined' the Navy," The Orange Disc. (Gulf Oil's magazine). September-October, 1945, pp. 2-7.

5. Reginald W. Ragland, A History of the Naval Petroleum Re- serves And Of The Development Of The Present National Policy Respecting Them, (Los Angeles, California: n.p., 1944, pp. 20-21).

6. Secretary of the Interior, P. A. Ballinger to President Taft, Sep- tember 17, 1909. Ragland, p. 24.

7. Ragland, pp. 27-36.

8. Giddens. "When Oil Joined' the Navy," p. 6.

9. Ibid., p. 7,

10. Ibtd.

11. Ragland, pp. 73-74.

12. Giddens. "When Oil Joined' the Navy," p. 7.

13. Ragland, pp. 39-40.

14. Ibid . pp. 40-42.

15. Ibid., pp. 42-47.

16. Ragland, p. 103; Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, Hearings Before the Committee on Public Lands and Surveys, United States Senate Pursuant to S. Resol. 282, S. Resol. 294, and S. Resol. 4i4, 67th Cong. 3 Vols., (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1924) I. pp. 933, 1213.

17. Ragland, pp. 47-49.

18. Ibid., pp. 60-82. 55.

19. Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, I, pp. 177-178. 56.

20. M. R. Wemer and John Starr, Teapot Dome, (New York: Vik- ing Press, 1959) p. 46. 57.

21. Noggle, p. 20. 58.

22. Ibid., p. 35.

23. Ragland, pp. 135-136.

24. Noggle, p. 35.

25. Ibid., p. 36. 59.

26. Ragland, p. 143. Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, I, pp. 296-298 gives the contract in full.

27. Werner and Starr, pp. 47-48.

28. Noggle, pp. 39-40. 60.

29. Ibid., p. 42. 61.

30. Ibid., p. 48. 62.

31. See Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, I, for Harding's Letter of 63. Transmittal, June 7, 1922, and Fall's comprehensive report on

the Naval Reserve Oil Leases, June 3, 1922, pp. 24-69. 64.

32. Noggle, p. 51. For the Wall Street Journal reference to the ex- 65. tension of the contract of December 11, 1922, see Leases Upon 66. Naval Oil Reserves, I, pp. 413-416. 67.

33. Noggle, pp. 65-56.

34. Ibid., p. 57. 68.

35. Ibid., p. 62. 69.

36. Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, I, p. 175.

37. Ibid., I, pp. 175-282 for the testimony of Secretary Albert B. 70. Fall; pp. 282-309 and 363-390 for the testimony of Secretary Ed-

vifin Denby; pp. 405-421 for the testimony of Edvfard C. Finney, 71.

First Assistant Secretary, Department of the Interior; pp. 72.

421-436 and 467-471 and 1017 for the testimony of Harry F. 73.

Sinclair, President of the Mammoth Oil Co., New 'York City. 74.

38. Ibid., I, pp. 830-843, 890-893 for the testimony of Carl Magee. 75.

39. Ibid., I, pp. 869-890 for the testimony of J. T. Johnson. 76.

40. Ibid., I, pp. 1017-1039 for the testimony of G. D. 'Wahlberg, ac- 77. countant and auditor for Sinclair.

41. Ibid., I, p. 1432.

42. Ibid., I, pp. 1453, 1545.

43. Ibid., I, p. 1699.

44. Ibid., I, pp. 1771-1772.

45. Ibid., I, pp. 1919-1935.

46. Ragland, pp. 149151. 78.

47. Noggle, pp. 83-84.

48. Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, I, p. 1931. 79

49. Noggle, pp. 86-87. 80

50. Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, I, pp. 1936-1940. 81

51. Noggle, p. 108. 82

52. Ibid., p. 110. 83

53. Paul H. Giddens, Standard Oil Company (Indiana): Oil Pioneer 84 of the Middle West, pp. 361-362.

54. Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, III, pp. 2894-2900; Robert L. Owen, Remarkable Experiences of H. F. Sinclair With His Gov- ernment: Some Dangerous Precedents, (n.p. 1929.)

Noggle, p. 145.

Leases Upon Naval Oil Resemes, Senate Report No. 794, dated June 6, 1924. Noggle, p. 154.

Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, Senate Report No. 794, Part 2, dated June 6, 1924. Also see. Leases Upon Naval Oil Re- serves, Senate Report No. 794, Part 3, dated January 15, 1925, called Supplemental Minority Views.

Giddens, Standard Oil Company (Indiana), 226-234; Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves (Continental Trading Company, Ltd., of Canada), January 24 to May 31, 1928, (Washington: Govern- ment Printing Office, 1929). Giddens, pp. 362-364.

Noggle, p. 182; U.S. v. Pan-Am., 6 F. 2d 43-89. Noggle, p. 183.

Giddens, Standard Oil Company (Indiana), p. 366; U.S. v. Mammoth Oil Co., et al., 5 F. 2d 330-54. Giddens, Standard Oil Company (Indiana), pp. 366-367. Noggle, p. 185. Ibid., p. 185.

Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, (Continental Trading Com- pany, Ltd., of Canada), January 24 to May 31, 1928. Giddens, Standard Oil Company (Indiana), pp. 367-368. Leases Upon Naval Oil Resemes, (Continental Trading Com- pany, Ltd., of Canada), pp. 48-68, 74.

Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves, (Continental Trading Com- pany, Ltd., of Canada), pp. 164-198.

pp. 357-416.

pp. 459-481, 577-614.

pp. 549-572.

pp. 572-577.

e, pp. 193-195.

p. 197.

For Walsh's Report for the Committee, Senate Report No 1326, 70th Cong. 1st Sess., "Investigation of Activities of Con tinental Trading Co." see Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves (Con tinental Trading Company, Ltd., of Canada), pp. 11711183 for Nye's "Supplemental Report, " Senate Report 1326, Part 2 Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves (Continental Trading Com pany, Ltd., of Canada), 70th Cong. 1st Sess., pp. 1185-1204. Walsh's Report, Leases Upon Naval Oil Reserves (Continental Trading Company, Ltd., of Canada), p. 1183. Giddens, Standard Oil Company (Indiana), p Wemer and Starr, p. 296. Noggle, p. 201. Werner and Starr, Noggle, p. 211. Ibid., p. 214.

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.

Ibid.

400.

290.

All the Ne^w^s That's Fit

to Chuckle Over

Neivspaper Humor in the Old West

By Robert G. Keller

Today's newspapers, even the tabloids, are pretty staid by comparison with those of yesteryear. In the 19th Century papers were more salty, more idiosyncratic. Objectivity was not particularly important, so the pages were enlivened with the personalities, crotchets and the sense of humor of the editors and reporters.

That was especially true of papers in the west. Fron- tier journalists were not only as independent and ornery as any dusty cowpoke or grizzled miner; they were just as funny, too. The rigors of existence on the Great Plains seemed to stimulate the comic sense.

In doing research for a historical novel set in Wyo- ming, I recently had occasion to read about five year's worth of the Cheyenne Daily Leader from the 1880's. To my surprise, the job, though time-consuming, was any- thing but boring. The paper was by turns informative, feisty and funny. What follows are some examples of its humor, which besides being amusing could also be remarkably sophisticated, even by our own standards.

The humor took many forms. Sometimes the news items selected were intrinsically funny by themselves. Here are several such snippets:

It is reported by a fairly reliable source that a widow in Oakland, California, has sued a newspaper for libel be- cause in its obituary notice of her husband, it spoke of his having gone to a happier home.'

Dueling may be a barbarous practice, but it does not seem a very dangerous one — at least in France, where the mortality is shown by statistics to be in the ratio of one to 1,700.

28

An Eastern paper concludes an editorial in support of the movement against the use of slang by hoping that 'this movement will spread until the whole slang business is paralyzed.'

My personal favorite of this type concerns an organization in Portland, Maine, called the "Idle Sons of Rest." The charter of this "ancient order" allegedly provided that anyone caught working would be ex- pelled, and the statement below by one of its members may be apocryphal, but the Leader claims to have taken it directly from the pages of the Boston Globe:

We sorta made one feller president, but he said we made him tired; then we 'lected a secretary, an' he went to taking notes, so we voted to expel him. He was working, you see, and the idea was to have an order that didn't do any work. Finally we 'lected a treasurer, and he said it was all right — if we'd make our own change and put the exact amount in his pocket. He was just the man we wanted. . . . More often than not, though, the news took on its comic aspect, not from what was reported but from an editorial remark that followed:

A young man in New Orleans took his lady love to the theater the other night and fell dead in his seat. But young men will keep on taking their lady loves to the theater just the same as if this hadn't happened.

Watermelons are getting so cheap that a first class stomach ache is now in reach of the most indigent.

The Duke of Richmond . . . was shot in the knee the other day while hunting in Enzie Woods, Speyside, by one of his party. His grace was stunned by the shot, but is now in a fair way of recovery. One of the bearers was, at the same time, also shot and rendered insensible. In fact, the

only thing that escaped being shot on the occasion of this famous hunt was the game.

Professor Proctor figures that the earth is shrinking about two inches a year. That accounts for the nervous anxiety manifested by some people to possess it while it is some size.

Nitroglycerine will cure angina pectoris, whatever that is; it will also cure a haunted house if properly applied.

The body of the fashion editor of the Brooklyn Citizen was found floating in the East River the other day. The new style of stiff hats probably overturned his reason.

It is not astonishing that the sea serpent should be visi- ble at summer resorts, but it is rather strange that its favorite haunt should be the coast of Maine, notwithstand- ing the prohibition laws in full force in that state.

This is the wedding day of the [German] Princess Bea- trice. Circumstances over which we have no control preclude the possibility of our attending the ceremony. The affair will probably go off all right, however. Then as now newspapermen had certain targets that they tended to devote more attention to than others. PoHticians of course were always a staple.

Senator Blackburn of Kentucky undertook to give President Cleveland a piece of his mind but couldn't deliver the goods for obvious reasons.

There is no truth in the report that the Congressional Record is to be used by the signal service bureau for the measurement of wind.

An exchange says: The Republican Party is not dead. That's what a tramp once said about his feet, but the^ were odorous evidences that he was mistaken.

Congress has accomplished something this session: one Senator and three Representatives have died so far.

Lawyers got their share of knocks too, as the follow- ing selections illustrate:

There are 11,000 lawyers in the state of New York. What an appalling state to be in.

When the angel Gabriel blows his horn, a vast army of lawyers will rise up and from sheer force of habit move for a continuance of the cases before the court.

Four sheep, a hog and ten bushels of wheat settled an Iowa breach of promise suit where |25,000 damages were demanded. The lawyers got all but the hog, which died before they could drive it away.

Jay Gould, the notorious robber baron, was a favorite subject for satirical comment, too.

For six consecutive Sundays Jay Gould has attended church, and the New Yorkers who are keeping tab on him are prepared for almost anything in the way of deviltry from this time on.

The book on railroad management which Jay Gould is said to be writing would be vastly more interesting were it to contain all that is certain to be left out of it.

If Jay Gould visits Austria, the emperor can do no less, in recognition of his merits, than make him a Knight of the Golden Fleece. As a fleecer, Jay has always been a great success.

If writers lampooned the plutocrats, though, they could be just as hard on the anarchists and other radicals.

They found dynamite, a rusty file and an old revolver in the anarchist newspaper office in Chicago, but no trace could be found of the office towel.

Herr Most [a German anarchist] professes himself will- ing to die for the cause of anarchy. He should cheerfully be

29

accorded the privilege, but the probability is that he would again seek refuge under some convenient bed.

There was no need for Henry George to start an "Anti- Poverty Society" so long as he can lecture at the rate of $300 a night.

Finally, there were also constant jibes at cornet players, greenhorns and England's poet laureate, Alfred Lord Tennyson. That the last two should have been picked on is fairly easy to understand, but it is less clear why cornet players were chosen as a recurrent butt. Yet they seem to have been regarded much the same as lunatics or lepers.

The fact has leaked out that the Czar is an amateur cornet player. This may in measure explain the enmity of the nihilists and other hysterical people toward him. For the frontier journalists, the world was their oyster ... to gag on. However, that didn't mean that they overlooked their own immediate locale. Few local antics escaped their sharp pens, as these excerpts from the Leader show:

The two tramps that were arrested on the train today claimed to be escaped New York baseball umpires. This was probably true, as neither knew anything about the game and were domineering and abusive to their fellow passengers.

While on their way from Fort Washakie to the Na- tional Park [Yellowstone], President Arthur and party

came to a lonely cabin on the summit of a desolate ridge. On the lid of a cracker box nailed above the door appeared the following: 'Ten miles from water, twenty miles from timber, and no grub in the house. God bless our home.'

The Laramie Boomerang had an article Thursday reporting the murder of Officer Winn of this city, which is another evidence that one should go away from home to hear the news. Winn doesn't believe he has been killed, but some men are very stubborn that way.

The Sioux Indians are reported as having organized a brass band, thus preserving even in civilization the aboriginal instinct which delights in torture.

The most notable event of yesterday in the campaign against the Ute Indians, says the Denver Republican, was when Private Flannigan was ambushed by his mule. At times an entire column was filled with some com- ic tale of local foibles. Here are several such longer ac- counts:

This time it is a soldier. He had just received his quarterly pay. and was somewhat bewildered while on his way back to the post. In his dilemma he took a street car and stood out on the rear platform admiring the open air. Suddenly the car stopped and the old vet fell headlong onto the street. The passengers and driver hurried out to pick him up, expecting to find him hurt and bruised. But he arose slowly unaided and, addressing the driver with great digni- ty, he asked:

'Been elision?'

'Oh, no,' replied the driver.

'Wagon broke down?'

'No.'

'Axshident 'fany kind?'

'None at all.'

'Well, 'fide known that I wouldn't got off.'

Andy Casservan was in the city yesterday, and he and General Jack Meldrum were laughing over an incident which occurred once in Rawlins when Meldrum was clerk of a court there. Casservan had been summoned as a juror, and Sheriff Rankin had handed the names [of the veniremen] in his own classic chirography. Those who are familiar with Rankin's handwriting say that when he is in a hurry it is terrific, being a cross between a streak of zigzag lightning and the ground plan of a worm fence with some mock-orange hedges and a stone wall thrown in. When Meldrum, as clerk, began to call the names of the jurors, he worried along until he got to the name of Casservan. That gentleman was in court, but he didn't recognize his cognomen as called by the clerk, and it seems that the clerk didn't recognize it as written by the sheriff for he called 'Mr. Crosscrown,' and receiving no reply made another in- vestigation and then called 'Mr. Goodpasture.' That didn't seem to fit anyone present either, and with desperation he investigated some more and concluded that 'Mr. Casegravy' was the man he wanted. Mr. Casegravy not materializing, the clerk wiped his brow, and with a mighty effort yelled for Coshocton, Constantinoble, Cucumber, Cassawary and so on, until his voice sunk to a whisper and he fell in his seat exhausted. Officers finally brought him around, and the sheriff was called upon to interpret the name. He gave it as his opinion that Casservan was the man who was wanted — in fact he was sure that Casservan was the man, but he wasn't sure that the name came in that exact place on the list, but nevertheless he went away muttering something about how clerks of courts should be qualified to read writing before being chosen for such offices.

30

Then there was this story of the prominent Cheyenne banker who took a trip abroad, in the course of which he visited the Dead Sea.

When Mr. Dare reached the famous inland sea. he cautiously approached a boatman who was standing on the shore, and began to read Arabic to him out of a three dollar guide book he had purchased in Jerusalem. The an- cient mariner stood, listened a moment, and then said in a tone of disgust: 'What's s'matter with you? Why don't you talk United States?'

The Cheyenne man concealed his chagrin and aston- ishment, and said, 'So this is the Dead Sea, the place where our Savior walked on the water. I suppose you know the locality where he walked?'

'That's what I do, doctor, and I'll take you out there in my boat, if you say so.'

'How much will you charge to take me to the exact spot?'

'Well, you look like a pretty decent sort of fellow, I won't charge you anything.'

Mr. Dare was greatly surprised to encounter such liberality so far from Wyoming, but stepped into the boat and was rowed about a mile from the shore. After gazing around for a few minutes and seeing nothing remarkable about the place, he expressed a desire to return.

'Charge you twenty dollars to go back,' said the enter- prising follower of the Savior's footsteps.

'But I thought you said the trip would cost me nothing,' remonstrated the pioneer.

'Naw. Nothing to come out; twenty dollars to get back.'

Mr. Dare handed the money-making navigator a gold piece but remarked in deep tones of disgust as he did so, 'No wonder that Jesus got out and hoofed it.' Practical jokes were an especially popular form of fun among cowboys and others in the Old West, so'it is not surprising to find accounts of such tomfoolery in the newspapers, too.

Yesterday morning on Sixteenth Street some fellow who was most outrageously drunk yet able to waddle around wanted somebody to show him where he could get another drink. He was too drunk to read signs, and writing was altogether out of the question with him. Ed Kapp, to whom he applied first, wrote on a large piece of paper the words, 'Take me somewhere else,' and giving it to him, sent him down to Reynold's barber shop, where he exhibited his credentials. It was a small favor to grant, but 'Doc' heeded the request and took him down to the corner where he pointed out to him the next victim. He in turn took him to somebody else, and so they kept passing and sending the poor fellow around from one saloon and shop to another to the immense amusement of all who witnessed the fun. At last the fellow, who for a long time took this passing around business to be a great favor shown him, became profoundly disgusted. He leaned up against a post and muttered to himself, 'Damfino how this is. 'Just then Policeman Sullivan came along, and the fellow, making a lurch or two in the middle of the sidewalk, showed his paper to the officer. That settled it with him. The request. Take me somewhere else,' was very promptly complied with, and he was marched off to the calaboose amid the grins of a good many wags who had been watching the fellow. Occasionally the journalist's humor took on a more biting edge. Comments on his fellow citizens were highly subjective and could be awfully unflattering. One of the more notorious of the local madames in Cheyenne was referred to as "Helen, the soft -eyed gazelle of fifty sum- mers and no one knows how many winters." Another woman was said to be so unprepossessing that the sight of her face would "wean a calf." But it wasn't only the distaff side that received such animadversions. One traveling drummer was reported to be so ugly that "the dogs die from exhaustion after barking at him," and another man was "so homely that the reflection of his face will dent a new milk pan."

31

Rival newspapermen particularly were the subject of harsh commentary. Consider these remarks, for in- stance:

Of all the beastly, outrageous, disgusting, unnatural, degenerate, deformed, ill-gotten, misconceived, unlawful, illegitimate, diabolical, hypocondriachal, incongruous, er- ratical, nonsensical, heterogenous, heteroclitical, dough- headed, brain-spavined, idiotic, snidish, incomprehensi- ble, conglomeration of typographical bulls ever perpetrat- ed upon an innocent and unoffending public, the inde- scribable mass appearing in the Boise City Republican takes the cake. Or how about these?

We have nothing more to say of the editor of the Sweetwater Gazette. Aside from the fact that he is a squint- eyed, consumptive liar, with a breath like a buzzard and a record like a convict, we don't know anything against him. He means well enough, and if he can evade the peniten- tiary and the vigilance committee for a few more years, there is a chance for him to end his life in a natural way. If he don't tell the truth a little more plenty, however, the Green River people will rise up as one man and chum him until there won't be anything left but a pair of suspenders and a wart.

The oddities of local speech were also grist for the newspaperman's mill. "I'm gonna mash his skull clear to

the spinal meningitis," one Cheyenne citizen was reported to have said of another. And there were these comments from a backwoodsman who saw a thermom- eter for the first time:

'Are you acquainted with these machines? I'll own up that I don't know a dum thing about them. If this one ever had any hands, they're gone now for sure. I can't find any trigger, and if an alarm goes with it, I've lost it on the road down here. The keyhole, if there ever was one, must be stopped or covered, and I'm afraid that stuff 11 spoil in the glass if something ain't done to it.'

Journalists had their own fun with the English lan- guage, too. Like the one who told of the elk that ran in to a group of hunters and, "surprised at the warmth of his reception and recollecting a prior business engage- ment, fled." Or the one who described a "pugilistic set- to," in which one of the combatants ". . . had his nasal appendage denuded of its superficial integuments." The fighters continued to ". . . artistically modify each other's physiognomy, until at length they looked on the one hand like a promiscuous chunk of raw beef and on the other like a fatigued remnant of a decayed pumpkin pie."

32

Puns were a particularly popular form of humor.

It is said that someone has invented an india rubber horse that can run. He ought to be a daisy on the 'back stretch.'

The Odd Fellows . . . attended the funeral of Mrs. Henry Dillman in a body yesterday morning.

It is said that Colonel Tom Ochiltree will shortly 'blossom out as a lecturer.' If he does, it won't take him long to go to seed.

Finally, the newsman sometimes just had fun for its own sake, making up droll stories with no grounding in fact whatsoever, and inserting them as fillers.

Fogg admitted that he was never good at arithmetic. 'There was my sister, for instance. When we were children, she was five years older than me. but now she is six years younger.'

Man never has the same faith in the eternal fitness of things after his wife has made him a shirt.

'Where do you expect to go when you die?'

'What's that? Do I look like a tenderfoot?'

'I simply asked you, my erring brother, where you think you will go when you die.'

'Why to hell, of course. Ask me some harder question.'

It is time to be reminded of the old joke about the Scotchman who was caught crawling toward a neighbor's hen roost. 'Where are ye ganging, mon?' was the challenge. 'Back again,' was Sawney's reply.

'For ten years past,' said the new boarder, 'my habits have been regular as clockwork. I rose at the stroke of six; half an hour later I sat down to breakfast; at seven was at work, dined at twelve, ate supper at six, and was in bed by nine-thirty, ate only hearty food, and hadn't a sick day in all that time.'

'Dear me,' said the deacon in sympathetic tones, 'What were you in for?'

And there was this one about a dying wife who pleads with her penurious husband to grant her one last favor, that is, to bury her in Cleveland where she was born and raised, where she first met her husband, and where they spent their happiest years together:

'But there will be considerable expense attached to it,' he com- plained.

'Oh, Robert! I will never rest easy in my grave anywhere else.'

'Well, Maggie, I'll tell you what I'll do. I don't want to be mean about the thing. I'll bury you here first, and then, if I notice any signs of restlessness on your part, I'll take you to Cleveland afterwards.'

So the dead hand of the past is not really so dead after all, and our Victorian forebears weren't quite as mirthless as we may sometimes think. Apparently they could laugh just as well as the rest of us.

33

WYOMING'S FIRST COAL RAILROAD

By Mel McFarland

''On at least one occasion the train stopped and backed up more than a mile when the conductor's cap blew off his head. "

Today trains leave the coal fields near Gillette, Wyo- ming, on an average of one per half hour, loaded with valuable fuel for somewrhere in the United States and in a few years it is expected to change to two or three trains per half hour.

One hundred years ago a team of geologists discov- ered marketable amounts of coal in the Bear Lodge District of the Black Hills, northeast of Gillette. The coal market in the Black Hills in the 1870's was growing quite rapidly because the large gold mines and reduc- tion mills in the Lead-Deadwood area were eager to find a close supply of coal. Timber was too valuable to bum as it was being harvested for mine timbering and for buildings. Three companies were established, staking claims in the area of the discovery, each with its own company town. The largest of the camps was Aladdin, named for the character in the Arabian Nights. Coal from the mines was hauled directly to the mills and to the nearest railroad terminal, Belle Fourche, South Dakota. In ten years the demand exceeded shipping capacity.

The three companies, combined under the Black Hills Coal Company, set about to build a railroad be- tween the mines and Belle Fourche. The Chicago and Northwestern Railroad had made a preliminary survey through the Black Hills at about the time of the coal dis- covery while searching for a route to the Tetons. The road was constructed to Belle Fourche, but a more southerly route was selected to the western gold fields. Logically the new railroad followed that old survey and connected with the C.&N.W. at Belle Fourche.

The Wyoming and Missouri River Railroad filed their papers of incorporation on June 24, 1895. Because the route was all downhill from the mines, a small engine was all that the railroad needed. A slightly used 4-4-0 type locomotive was purchased along with an an- cient passenger car. The required coal cars and other types of cars were provided by the C.&N.W. The larger road also agreed to help get construction started by pro- viding some of the supplies for construction. A flat car and a hand car made up the maintenance equipment.

A small crew of men, including miners and ranch- ers, worked to build the railroad during the summer of 1898. The winters in the area are long and severe and nearly all construction was stopped.

In the spring of 1899 there were substantial changes in the mines at Aladdin. The Kemmerer brothers, M.S. and J. L. of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, who had held in- terests in the mines, bought the controlling interest in the mines, as well as the railroad. The little 18 -mile rail- road was not yet finished, but with warm weather and an influx of more money it was quickly completed. Two small gasoline powered railroad motor cars, only slightly larger than hand cars, were added to the railroad's equipment list.

S4

Wyoming and Missouri River Railroad locomotive No. 1 arrives at the Belle Fourche depot pulling the company's only passenger car, 1900.

One of the road's two "din kys" pulls out of Aladdin with a full load aboard.

35

Large beef shipments were sent east each fall from Aladdin.

Actual construction work on the railroad took only eight months. A small yard in Belle Fourche connected with the yards of the C.&N.W. The single track, stan- dard gauge line ran through the low rolling hills of South Dakota the 11 miles to the Wyoming line. The seven miles to Aladdin were a bit rougher. It took 32 bridges, averaging 60 feet in length, and 14 feet high, to clear the numerous crossings of the stream up the valley. It was determined that the 1881 vintage 56-pound rail, which was purchased used, would be good enough for many years. The small yard in Aladdin also connected to the coal mines. A single train running to Belle Fourche and back made any passing sidings along the way unnecessary.

The first coal trains ran five days a week, which was reduced to three a week after a year. A train was run on the remaining three days hauling regular freight and passengers. The train occasionally consisted of only the engine and the 43-foot combination passenger, baggage and caboose car. The tiny gas motor cars were used to haul mail, milk, express and passengers when there was not a large enough load going east for the "big" train. Sunday was usually the only day there was no train, but in the spring and fall the train was rolled out for an oc- casional church excursion.

Life on the railroad was very informal. The regular employees, who never numbered more than 20, normal-

ly held other jobs in the mines or stores in Aladdin and a few held jobs on neighboring ranches. The same four- man crew ran every train with the steam engine. No timetables were issued and the crew made many stops as flagged. On at least one occasion the train stopped and backed up more than a mile when the conductor's cap blew off his head. The unflustered gentleman com- pleted his ticket taking before he told the engine crew. The cap was recovered and the train continued on its way.

The crew often carried either fishing equipment or guns for hunting. The train could be seen stopped on one of the railroad's bridges while the crew fished or in a grove of trees while they hunted or picked wild berries along the way. Local farmers regularly rode the train into Belle Fourche for a days' shopping. The tracks ran near all of the homes in the valley.

The coal mines slowed production after the turn of the century and no others were explored. Coal ship- ments were down to two a week and down to only one a week by 1910. Cattle and farm produce shipments had steadily increased each year as the farmers learned of the benefits of the railroad. Little farm towns like Sun- dance found it much better to travel the 20 or so miles to Aladdin than the 50 miles to the Burlington Railroad in Wyoming. Farmers and ranchers in southeastern Mon- tana often came more than 100 miles, because for them

36

"A shipment of his hay was loaded and ready but the train crew was not. "

it was the closest shipping point. One local rancher, however, became quite irritated at the casual operation of the line and decided to take matters in his own hands. A shipment of his hay was loaded and ready, but the train crew was not. The rancher, knowing the tracks were clear, proceeded to release the brakes on the car, and let it roll downhill into Belle Fourche. It arrived well before the train!

The ancient Number 1 finally wore out, and a slightly newer 4-4-0 Rogers locomotive was purchased for $2,568, and became number "Four." When the coal ran out, the new engine ran only one day a week and rarely with anything but farm produce. The little gasoline cars, or "dinkys" as they were often called, car- ried most of the freight. One of the cars was finally scrapped to help keep the other one running. In 1917 the single car carried over a 1,000 passengers, six at a time. The revenues had always barely matched ex- penses, but following World War I revenues dropped and expenses soared.

In 1 922 the railroad and the mines were sold to local men. The new owners were mainly employees of the former owners and ranchers along the line. The men hoped to put at least one of the mines back into opera- tion and maybe even extend the railroad toward Sun- dance. A third locomotive was purchased from the Beaver, Penrose and Northern, a short Colorado rail- road that had just gone out of business. The little 4-6-0 was fresh out of a rebuilding shop and ready for work. It

was better suited for heavy loads than the older 4-4-0 engine. The engine was given the number "Five."

A half dozen used box cars and a caboose swelled the equipment list. One of the new cars, unfortunately, was destroyed shortly after it arrived. The picture was not bright for the new owners and in 1925 they tried to sell it to the C.&N.W., who wanted no part of the road. In 1927 the railroad was shut down. The "dinky" was parked in a shed behind the Aladdin Store and every- thing else was sold for scrap. The little car survived as a novelty for several decades, occasionally being rolled out for display.

Aladdin has about 20 people today. The coal mines in the area made a few dollars after the railroad was torn out, one locality being reported as the site of a bootleg li- quor operation during Prohibition. A few families in the valley can relate family ties to the colorful little railroad, but there is little physical evidence left of the line. The present highway crosses the overgrown grade several times. The old yards in Aladdin are almost completely erased, while in Belle Fourche the old trackage remains.

The Wyoming and Missouri River Railroad was the start of what is now one of the west's fastest growing businesses. The coal in one modern-day Burlington Northern hopper car is more than what was carried by an entire W.&M.R. coal train. The coal in an average 100-car shipment today is greater than all of the coal ever shipped by train from Aladdin.

37

F"

Broadway

in

Cow Country

The History of Cheyenne Little Theatre

Part Two

By Lou Burton

Several years later, after Mrs. Loomis had com- pleted her education at Smith College, she returned to Cheyenne, reentered society, and discovered the O'Mahoneys in the thick of things even though they, too, had only recently returned from Washington where Joe had served as secretary to Kendrick after his election to the U. S. Senate.

Soon after their return to Cheyenne in 1922, the O'Mahoneys had been instrumental in reelecting Sen- ator Kendrick and putting Governor William Ross in the governor's office, an unprecedented coup for the Democratic party; Agnes had zestfully played her part, giving teas and receptions at the O'Mahoney bungalow.

But this mode of entertaining was an exception to the norm; throughout the twenties and early thirties, the O'Mahoneys were more inclined to devote themselves to close friends. Agnes, like any woman of her position and

time, was a capable bridge player, but not single-mind- edly devoted to the game as were many of her contem- poraries. She preferred, instead, to be involved in many things — at one time she served as executive secretary to Nellie Tayloe Ross — but of all things she was most devoted to being her husband's confidante and chief ad- visor. Indeed, it can probably be assumed that she was one of those who advised him against seeking his party's nomination for the state's only seat in the U.S. House of Representatives in December, 1929. Less than two months later, this amazing woman and her husband, resilient and undaunted, turned their talents to the task of bringing theatre to Cheyenne.

The temptation to suggest the theatre project was conceived as an alternate channel for O'Mahoney ener- gies is too great to resist, but it must remain simply a suggestion. However, there is no doubt in the minds of

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any who knew the O'Mahoneys that Joe supported the endeavor as completely as Agnes supported him in his career. Just as she would later assist him with his re- search, his speeches, and the bills he presented in the U. S. Senate, he is believed to have advised her during the years she served as president of the Cheyenne Little Theatre Players. But his unobtrusive presence is in- dicated only once in the records. On December 12, 1930 a special meeting of the Board of Directors was held at the home of Frederic Hutchinson Porter. Edith K. O. Clark included the following item in the minutes: At the close of the business meeting a delightful supper was served by Mrs. Frederick [sic] Porter, wife of the Vice- President (who was gracefully and efficiently assisted by Mr. J. C. O'Mahoney, husband of the President). All those who recall Agnes O'Mahoney speak of her grace, charm, wit, and intelligence; of her dedication and infectious enthusiasm; and of how all who were in- volved in Cheyenne's Little Theatre movement delight- ed in transforming her ideas into realities. She was, in- deed, an exceptional leader, but none have asserted that she was ever a star performer in a theatrical way.

Although she had acquired an appreciation of fine drama as a theatergoer in various eastern cities and had undoubtedly attended performances on Broadway as recently as the summer of 1929 when she had worked at Democratic National Headquarters in New York, she had no illusions about her ability to direct a play, create a role on stage, or construct a set. These talents were possessed by others; fortunately, she recognized that her role was to channel their energies in ways that would strengthen the new organization.

Her first major step in this direction resulted in the weekly workshops that followed the meetings of the general membership. During these workshops, stars of an entirely different sort moved center stage. We begin to find their names in the secretary's notebook and in news releases before the CLTP is a month old. The first news item significant in this respect appeared in the Tribune- Leader on March 8.

The meeting [of March 5] was devoted to the reading of plays, the program being in charge of Mrs. W. H. Andrew, chairman of the play-reading committee.

"Journey's End." the famed play without a woman in the cast, was read, with the parts taken by W. F. DeVere, Frederic H, Porter, Arthur Austin, Robert Caldwell, Ernest Sengart [sic] and George T. [sic] Guy of Cheyenne, and Capt. G. M. Seebach and Lieut. Walter C. Stanton of Fort Warren.

"Journey's End" was thoroughly enjoyed and was fol- lowed with "The Reprisal," a short story, by F. Britten Austin and arranged for the stage by William F. DeVere. "The Reprisal" is a post-war story and the parts in the dramatization were taken Wednesday night by Mrs. James Greenwood, Mr. DeVere and Lieut. W. C. Stanton.

Enthusiasm and interest were marked at the meeting Wednesday night. A "surprise" program will be presented March 12. Two sketches are to be proffered by Barrie O'Daniel [sic] and Mr. DeVere.

The secretary's minutes reveal one fact not reported in the newspaper: The readings were entirely impromp- tu since the unnamed people who were to have present- ed a previously arranged program apparently got cold feet and failed to attend the meeting. But the surprise for the next meeting materialized with even greater grandeur than anticipated. O'Daniels and DeVere had

"The Swan" October, 1931

obviously been chomping at the bit. Edith Clark report- ed the events in her minutes of March 12th.

The program was then turned over to Mr. Barrie O'Daniels who gave a brief explanation of the psychology of acting and directing, and then set an informal stage for the reading of "Three Pills in a Bottle." The parts were read by Mrs. Bruce Jones Jimmie Speer (age 11) Mr. R. G. Caldwell Mr. Fred Douglas. Jr. Lt. Farmer Mr. Saegart Mrs. Wm. Fairchild Mrs. H. J. Frawley After the reading of the play, a fantasie, there was a general discussion of the wisdom of attempting anything quite so subtle, as one of the first night productions. No formal vote was taken, but the feeling was rather against undertaking this fantasie quite so early in the C.L.T.P. ac- tivities.

Mr. DeVere was then asked to direct the reading of Bar- rie's comedy 'The \2 ^ Look"

The lines of this play were read by Mrs. Allan Pearson

Alexander Adair (Ft. Warren) Lt. Stanton ( " " )

As a closing number, Mr. DeVere and Mr. O'Daniels read "Moonshiner" by Arthur Hopkins, a clever dialogue. Earlier that evening the Board of Directors had decided "to urge the early production of three one-act plays, to stimulate interest in the CLTP," and prior to the evening's readings DeVere suggested to the general membership that "The Twelve Pound Look," "Meet the Missus," and "Three Pills in a Bottle" be produced as the group's first public program. "Meet the Missus" had been read on February 26 and was considered appro- priate, but when the general membership voiced their reservations about "Three Pills in a Bottle" it was given no further consideration.

Of a total membership of fifty-nine persons on March 12, 1930, at least eighteen had participated in one or more workshop play readings and an additional fourteen were actively serving on the Board of Directors or assigned to committees. Mrs. O'Mahoney, in just one month, and with the unflagging assistance of DeVere, Porter, and O'Daniels, had found ways to directly in- volve over half of the membership in the business of the group. Nevertheless, she announced the appointment of an "aggressive membership committee" that same eve- ning and then "urged all members and friends of the organization to try to interest others in coming to the meetings, and in joining the club."

At the next meeting of the Board of Directors, on March 19, they demonstrated the sort of decisiveness that was needed to earn them a place in the community. It was reported that Mrs. Cahill, chairVnan of Music Week had invited the Cheyenne L. T. P. to perform Wednesday, May 7th. It was moved, seconded and carried that we accept this invitation.

It was moved, seconded and carried that The Valiant, Meet the Missus and The Twelve Pound Look be prepared for this performance. Moved, seconded and carried that Mr. DeVere direct this production of these plays with the privilege of choosing an assistant as provided in the by laws.

Mrs. O'Mahoney appointed Mr. Porter scenic artist and stage manager.

In a matter of moments, that first Board of Direc- tors had the wisdom to recognize the two men who would most frequently be the de facto leaders of the CLTP during the organization's first quarter century. At the meeting of the general membership that followed a few minutes later, the decisions of the Board were an- nounced and accepted by the membership without ques- tion or discussion.

As there was no further business the meeting was turned over to Mr. Devere who conducted tryouts for the Valiant and The Twelve Pound Look. The parts for Meet the Missus had been previously cast so that no tryouts for that were held.

Bill DeVere knew from experience that the eight weeks the players had given themselves would be none too long for rehearsing the plays that had been selected, and it was especially important to him that the first public performance of the CLTP be successful.

Bunk Porter, a man of forty who had enjoyed excep- tional success as an architect but who, according to his wife, had never before in his life been involved in any aspect of theatre was just as concerned and well orga- nized as DeVere. In spite of his inexperience, or perhaps because of it. Porter was ready to move center stage at

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Frederic H. "Bunk" Porter

40

The 1935 production, "The Donovan Affair. " Left to right. Warren, Alice Fairchild, and James A. "Buck" Buchanan.

the next meeting. The meeting on March 26 exemphfies as well as any other, the dynamic excitement and total involvement that made possible the achievements of the thirties.

The meeting of the Board of Directors at 7:30 was routine; concern was expressed about "problems of in- creasing the membership," and Simpson, the treasurer, reported that he had arranged for the printing of "of- ficial CLTP receipt forms for dues paid," and that he "had tendered to Messrs. Laughlin and Mackay, owners of the Capitol Press which did the printing, two com- plimentary memberships for 1930.""

Edith Clark's record of the open meeting that followed also starts out routinely, but then goes on to reveal how well Bunk Porter, the amateur, had done his homework, and how O'Daniels and DeVere filled out the evening's activities.

Mrs. O'Mahoney . . . introduced Mr. Porter as the chief speaker of the evening.

Mr. Porter gave a very interesting, entertaining and in- structive talk upon the development of scenic design and stage mechanics, showing an exhaustive study of the sub- ject. Mr. Porter reported that he Vifas asking the coopera- tion of all C.L.T.P. members who had indicated on their enrollment cards that they wished to study scene painting and stage settings, to submit plans for the staging of the three plays selected for presentation on May 7th. He stated that he would report at a later meeting the designs offered by various members.

At the close of Mr. Porter's talk, Mr. O'Daniels was called upon. He complimented Mr. Porter upon his com-' prehensive discussion of the subject and added a few interesting facts taken from his own experience.

Frederic H. "Bunk" Porter, Maxme Wail, Mary Helen

Mrs. O'Mahoney then asked Mr. O'Daniels to direct the reading of "The Drums of Oude" — a very tense and stirring short play by Austin Strong. The lines were read by Mr. George Guy, Lt. and Mrs. Seebach and Mr. Ernest Saegart. The stage business directions [were] read by Mr. O'Daniels in a way to make the action of the play very vivid to the hearers.

During the business meeting of the C.L.T.P., Mr. DeVere conducted in another room preliminary rehearsals of some of the scenes to be presented on May 7th. One cannot help but visualize the events of that eve- ning. Happily, Frances Mentzer Reiser, librarian at the Carnegie Library from 1929-1943 and president of the CLTP from 1933 until 1935, has explained how so many things might have happened and provided a description of the library.

Throughout the thirties, according to Mrs. Reiser, the Women's Club rooms were reserved by the players almost every Wednesday evening. Located just to the north of St. Mary's Cathedral on the corner of Capitol Avenue and 22nd Street, the library was built of stone in a classic style with a colonnaded portico at the top of a long broad flight of stone steps. Meeting goers would pass through the portico, into a vestibule, climb a nar- row winding stairway to the second floor and finally turn right into the Women's Club rooms. These consisted of a meeting hall and small library room where various clubs kept their records. The hall was equipped with long nar- row oak tables, an ample number of folding chairs, a few groupings of occasional furniture, and a piano.

Members of the Board of Directors began to arrive shortly after seven and gathered at one of the oaken

41

tables, perhaps taking a moment or two to unfold and arrange chairs for the larger meeting that would follow their own. At 7:30 the directors' meeting began, and before 8:00 other members and interested people ar- rived and congregated in the hall or, if the weather was pleasant, on the steps or under the portico outside the building.

The president usually called the general meeting to order at 8 o'clock. In those days the Board of Directors allowed itself only thirty minutes a week to do their of- ficial business, and it was only when an unanticipated question intruded that its meetings were prolonged.

On March 26, 1930, Mrs. O'Mahoney was delayed, but as soon as the meeting was started, Bill DeVere quietly assembled some of the players he had cast and took them to the small library to assist them in rehears- ing lines. '^ He and Bunk would have agreed beforehand that some must prepare to play on the stage while others had to become involved with building sets. Time was short, but not so short that the players were concerned only with the three plays under consideration; conse- quently, it seemed quite reasonable for O'Daniels to organize a reading of still another play after he had cri- tiqued Mr. Porter's "comprehensive discussion" of scenic design. '^

It might well be imagined by contemporary readers that those who attended this meeting would have been satiated at the end of this evening, that they would have heard enough about theatre to last them for a month or

more, but this was not the case. Those early members of the CLTP had appetities that brought them back, week after week, throughout the decade and beyond.

We might explain their dedication by observing that there was little else to do during those years of the great depression. But it would be more reasonable to accept the testimony of those who were there: they participated because they loved theatre, because they sensed they were needed, and because they respected and admired their leaders. Furthermore, almost every meeting in- cluded a stimulating program, and they were able to witness their own g[rowth in almost every production they presented to the public.

And finally, their interest never waned because they knew that ultimate control of their theatre rested in their hands through the election process stipulated in their by laws. Each year, immediately after the presen- tation of the last play of the season, ballots were distributed and each member voted for a slate of direc- tors. The slate was based upon nominations from the Board of Directors and the general membership. Some directors, like William DeVere, were reelected again and again and served continuously throughout the period.

According to George Guy, a prominent Cheyenne attorney and civic leader who played in several CLTP productions during the thirties. Bill DeVere was the "heart and soul of the Cheyenne Little Theatre Players." Similar accolades have been rendered by many others

John Godfrey and Virginia Kershisnik in "Holiday," April, 1938. The set designed and executed by "Bunk" Porter was used for a single performance and then dismantled and stored in the attic of the Consistory Building. 42

including Bard Farrell, another of Cheyenne's well- known attorneys who was cast — with George Guy — in CLTP's first program of plays; and Alice Fairchild, who, after making her stage debut in the same program, became one of the finest actresses to perform with the group during the thirties, and its president in 1937.^" The praise is well deserved; Bill DeVere directed twenty- eight of the fifty-seven plays presented prior to the suspension of play production during World War II and several more after the war. And he frequently played roles — often in plays he was directing. According to Daze Bristol, many people would attend plays only when they knew Bill DeVere was to appear on stage.

DeVere had legendary qualities. Like nineteenth century western heroes, he came from some unknown place east of the Mississippi — some say from the north, others from the south, and still others from the mid- west—and he brought special, almost magical, talents that would change the western landscape. But he was atypical, too. Katherine Halverson recalls that when she was a child, DeVere was a neighbor and didn't seem at all unusual, but as the years went by she realized Bill was never offstage; he never drew a breath that he was offstage — in his office, in a social situation, walking down the street, Bill was always on stage, but not offensive- ly. In Cheyenne, invariably, he was beautifully, impeccably dressed. He would wear a business suit, often a dark busi- ness suit, spats, pale grey spats as often as not; he would carry a walking stick and he would carry it with an air. He would wear a bowler hat and always the waxed moustache, you know, and twirled at the ends. This was part of Bill. And he'd attract attention — and he would have been disap- pointed the day he wouldn't attract attention.

When Bill traveled in the East, he'd often wear heeled Western boots, stiff crackling yellow cowboy slicker and a cowboy hat. He was the epitome of a range cowboy in New York City, but he was the epitome of a Madison Avenue broker in Cheyenne. He was always on stage. When George and Lucille Guy were asked who had brought the CLTP into existence, they immediately started talking, both at the same time, about Bill DeVere. After a moment, things settled dovwi. Lucille: He was a ham at heart . . . George: He was an old-time vaudevillian; he'd been in vaudeville before World War I, traveled to the tank towns and all that kind of stuff . . .

Lucille: But he was on stage every minute of his life . . . George: Yes . . .

Lucille: But he was a warm, fine person. George: He wore a little waxed moustache, very fancy thing. He'd come downtown wearing a derby hat and spats . . .

Lucille: Sometimes grey; some times black . . . George: A checked suit . . .

Lucille: His costume . . . He carried a walking stick . . . George: A theatrical prop . . . Lucille: Yes.

George: He had a pair of pince nez attached to a bi§f black ribbon. Lucille: Hal

George: And the next time you saw him downtown

he'd be in a cowboy outfit!

This cowboy rode out of the east in 1922, returning to Cheyenne, a tank town he had visited in 1913 as a vaudevillian. His arrival, as might be expected in the case of a mythical hero, was unheralded. Having at some point in his travels found a wife with a soft southern accent, he was ready to settle down, and soon secured a position as manager of the Cheyenne Credit Bureau, a job he held the rest of his life. Somewhere along the line he had also acquired an understanding of the financial world to complement his understanding of human nature, so he was ideally suited for the job. In 1930, when the CLTP was formed. Bill DeVere was in his late thirties, a successful man about town whose oc- casional apperances in amateur theatricals did little more than whet his appetite. His wife and son were also ready to launch the new theatrical enterprise; Louise would soon be assisting with makeup, and Bill, Jr. would be helping to build some of the first sets.'^

While Bill DeVere's contributions to what actually transpired on stage would be sufficient to earn him a prominent place in the history of the CLTP, he must also be given credit for other less celebrated activities that more than once enabled the organization to survive the financial crises that plagued it throughout the thir- ties.

Some old-timers would prefer to gloss over these problems, and some sincerely believe they did not exist, but others have been more realistic in their recollections. Daze Bristol, a centenarian who has experienced hard times and found her own way in the world through her second half century, recalls that "Bill DeVere was always the chief one to get money; he could get money any- where; he never gave up [the idea of continuing with the theatre]. But he was very secretive."

On more than one occasion when money was short, faint-hearted members of Boards of Directors prevailed in their insistence that the membership should be con- sulted about attempting to continue for another season. For instance, on May 3, 1933, the program for "Out- ward Bound," the last play of the season, included the following note:

As this is the last play of the season your attention is in- vited to the questionnaire, which is intended to determine the feasibility of going ahead with plans for continuation of the Little Theatre organization for next year. Will you kindly fill it out.

Three things had contributed to the directors' hesi- tancy: Cheyenne was finally feeling the full effects of the depression; Agnes O'Mahoney had left the board to ac- company her husband to Washington after his appoint- ment to the Post Office Department; and, according to Mrs. Bristol, the newly-elected president of the players, Frances Mentzer, "was ready to give it up."

43

William DeVere, the director of "Outward Bound," was not. In some way, unrecorded, he and others breathed new life into the organization and it returned with renewed vigor to commence a full season of five plays the following autumn. Furthermore, Frances Mentzer remained at the helm until 1935, guiding the CLTP through what must have been their most difficult years.

DeVere, however, was not the only one who worked behind the scenes to secure additional funds for the struggling players. On December 9, 1935, Bunk Porter requested assistance from the Federal Theatre Project of the Works Project Administration. In his letter to Mr. Marschall, the Educational Consultant for the W.P.A. in Cheyenne, Mr. Porter explained:

. . . the purpose of the Cheyenne Little Theatre Players in applying to the Works Progress Administration for relief funds is entirely because we were sure that we could not carry on with our regular productions this year, as we have been doing in the past, without outside help.

We are without the services of an amateur director for the balance of the season. Heretofore no one has received a salary, profits, or dividends from the Cheyenne Little Theatre Players. Our expense of production is constantly unavoidably increasing, and we feel that our only salvation to secure a continuance of dramatic presentations this year is to pay for a good director to direct our remaining plays even if we have to hire a professional from out of Cheyenne; and in addition we will have to pay for some construction work in the scenic studio, as our scenic director finds it in- creasingly difficult to get adequate volunteer help, par- ticularly as funds are so limited for adequate equipment and material.

Our presentations are financed partly by membership dues and partly by the regular fifty cents admission. All of the money thus received goes into the production and none has ever been diverted, during our five years of existence, to any person. We will have no objection to having a federal representative collect admissions, provided we are assured that such admissions go directly to pay production costs. The Cheyenne Little Theatre Players have no desire to profit from these admissions. We simply must have help to continue our regular activities.

This matter must be settled very quickly, however, as the season is nearly at an end and none of our activities may continue after May 30th. . . . Unless this application is ap- proved very quickly, we will abandon all efforts to continue the high class of dramatic productions which we have given in the past.

On December 18, 1935, the request for assistance was disapproved because it did not meet certain un- specified criteria; nevertheless, the leaders of the CLTP did find a way to continue production the following autumn. Even though DeVere was not available to di- rect during January and March of 1936, he did direct the April production and three of the four plays present- ed during the following season.

There must have been occasional clashes of person- alities within the Players as there are within all organiza- tions, but none of these were permanently crippling. In- deed, events indicate that the conflicting opinions of the 44

leaders throughout the decade strengthened rather than weakened the organization, and each individual who served as a director made his or her special contribution. One of these, Alice Fairchild, a graduate of the Law School at Boulder who had worked during the twenties as an attorney with the Federal Trade Commission in Washington, came to Cheyenne in 1929 as the bride of Bill Fairchild, who was sent to manage those theatres that belonged to his family, the Princess, the Lincoln, and the Atlas.

Eight years later, after she had starred in many CLTP productions and after Bill had filled in the back- grounds in almost as many as a "spear carrier," Alice was elected president of the CLTP and was ready with an innovation of her own.

As a long-time friend and admirer of Barrie O'Daniels, she decided to ask him to become the Players' first paid director, wrote him a letter offering him the job, and soon received his reply.

Tuesday Dear Alice

It was a great pleasure to get your charming letter this morning — And I am now looking forward to the time when I shall be calling curtain for the first Production — the money that you offer is under the circumstances quite all right — Tho I would like my fare one way — that will amount to $30.00. I hope that is acceptable to the board and yourself —

Regarding the plays you have in mind — I think all of them are splendid — but from a production and cast view- point — Winterset is a little too high — it is a great play — but I am trying to keep in mind the fact that you are paying me and also I must try and make you money by considering production expenses — the costuming in Brother Rat is something to consider — Petrified Forest should be a smash hit only one set and great theatre — Prelude to Exile I shall have to read — Tho I have played in "He Who Gets Slapped," I rather doubt its audience value in Cheyenne — as you requested I am sending the names of a few plays that I know to be surefire, "Libel" a tremendous success here in Pasadena — "Blind Alley" very dramatic — "Accent on Youth" very good — "Behold This Dreamer" this play was the comedy success of the season at the Pasadena Playhouse — a really sparkling fast moving piece of wit — I agree with you that I should devote my time to directing rather than acting — And Alice I know we will do big things in the Theatre— It will be worthy seeing you all again — I have always regarded you and Bill and the rest of the gang as mighty fine people — And I trust the renewal of our friendship will be of value to us all —

Give my very best to the charming Mentzer of whom there is no better of —

Sincerely

Barrie As it turned out, only one of the plays mentioned in the letter was actually produced, and this quite natural- ly was the one both Barrie and Alice saw as a winner, "The Petrified Forest." And Barrie was not able to stay for the entire season; he directed the October and De- cember plays and then went on to other, more lucrative work.

May, 1935, "The Return of Peter Grim. " The design and construction of the set took one full year.

When he was recently asked about that autumn, he remembered that he had been paid "the magnificent sum of $300 a month," but AHce Fairchild doesn't think it could have been so much. In any event, the CLTP must have, by 1937, entered upon more prosperous times.

Perhaps the best measure of the superb talents of Bunk Porter as a scenic designer is to note that he pro- duced some of his finest sets during the years when money was most difficult to find. Beginning with the production of "The Trial of Mary Dugan" on February 15, 1933, CLTP programs regularly included notes in- viting audiences "on stage to inspect the setting" after the conclusion of the play, and after "The Return of Peter Grimm" was presented on February 27, 1935, the following item appeared in a local newspaper. ONE YEAR SPENT BUILDING STAGE SETTING USED HERE By Jennet S. Letts What was considered by many persons to have been the finest stage setting ever viewfed in Cheyenne and one of the best anywhere in the country, was the one used for the Lit- tle Theatre production, "The Return of Peter Grimm," at Consistory Temple Wednesday and Thursday evenings.

The building of that setting was begun a year ago with the painstaking, careful planning of Frederick Hutchinson Porter and concluded during the past six weeks with "hard labor" on the part of Mr. Porter and his committee, R. Walter Bradley, Charles Dutcher, John Schaedel, Libby Hoffman and Mrs. Martin Weiss.

It is a setting full of romance and atmosphere and history and a real feeling for the people of the past who once stepped and lived in such rooms and such houses.

Based on the directions given by David Belasco whose settings were famous for their realism and detail, hundreds of pictures of genuine interiors in Holland and Flanders were pored over during the year's planning of the set. In- teresting steps in the actual work were rough sketches show- ing exits and entrances, based on Belasco's original setting and floor plan, a working model on which each of 53 pieces of scenery were numbered, then the construction, coloring and careful shading of each piece.

Infinite pains were taken to get the effect of real Dutch paneling, authentic moulding, true Dutch tiling, and all the trappings and effects of a Holland interior such as it might have been modified by colonial influence in early New York. One detail of this work was the painting of four dozen delf blue plates, which from a short distance cannot be distinguished from the real. Canvas beams have realistic knotholes and grainings and cracks painted into them. Col- ors of curtains and wood have all been carefully studied and softened to produce the most artistic effect under the various lights thrown upon them.

And all of these lights, absolutely everyone available in Cheyenne was used. There were 30 spotlights alone, two of them having come from New York to fit exactly the re- quirements of a certain effect. Also an interesting rain machine was procured in New York which consists of elec- tricity thrown on the back curtain in such a way as to look exactly like rain.

Ted O'Melia, writing for the Tribune-Leader on May 2, 1935, said:

45

The Wyoming Consistory Temple where Little Theatre productions were staged for twenty years.

The production of "The Return of Peter Grimm." Wednesday night in Consistory Temple Auditorium, was the supreme achievement of the season for the Cheyenne Little Theatre Players. Its success transcends that of productions of several seasons and goes into the records as probably the finest work ever done by this group of amateurs.

After discussing the filled auditorium and the wisdom of the Players in choosing the play with "its fine emotional tempo, its superb outlet for acting, directing and stagecraft," O'Melia went on to speak of the group's for- tune "in possessing the two most essential parts of a suc- cessful players' group a competent director and skilled scenic architect and technician."

William DeVere amply fills the former position. Wednesday's play, it can be said, was the acme of his presentations. In addition to being the guiding hand of the production he also carried the title role of Peter Grimm. In both he excelled.

His presentation was sincere, convincing and sympa- thetic—all requisites of the character. His voice and make- up were closely allied to his interpretation.

To Frederic Hutchinson Porter and to R. W. Bradley go the honors for one of the most impressive stage settings ever created. . . . And the stage management, including lights, which were a triumph in themselves in charge of these two men was an impressive feature.

Especially effective were the sound effects, giving the impression of rain on the roof accompanied by thunder and lightning. Another delicate touch in the setting was the cloud picture as seen through the windows to the rear of the stage. It took ingenuity, indeed, to produce the effects of the sailing clouds.

Appreciation of the setting was expressed at the rise of the curtain by a spontaneous outburst of applause from the audience.

Mr. Porter, who designed the setting, was at the pro- duction in a wheel chair, being convalescent from a recent severe sickness of influenza.

Few, if any, Little Theatre productions throughout the country have ever had sets to compare with those so meticulously and lovingly created by Bunk Porter, and it is doubtful that anything to compare with his work has been produced in Cheyenne since he retired from the scene. He would not, however, wish to take full credit for the production of the sets he designed; he would have been the first to insist he could not have done without the assistance of Walter Bradley, his business partner for several years; Dr. Walter Lacey, a man with an eye for detail and an open invitation to the best homes in Cheyenne who always found the antique table, settee, or tablecloth that was absolutely correct for a particular setting; and many others who spent long hours in the various scene shops during that first decade. Bunk Porter, like the O'Mahoneys, was a native of Massachusetts who came to Cheyenne prior to 1920. He graduated from Tufts University; married Grace, a native of Colorado, in 1913, and then worked at various jobs in the east and west for one period on the Utah capitol in Salt Lake — and finally joined a partnership of architects in Cheyenne in 1918. By 1930 he had estab- lished a thriving business of his own, having designed some of the finest homes and buildings in the city. In ad-

46

didon to these achievements, he must have been a closet theatre buff; otherwise, he could not have burst into full bloom as a scenic designer within weeks after the foun- ding of the CLTP.

Like DeVere, Bunk was totally committed to quality theatre. He would no more let a lack of funds stand in the way of building an exquisite set than DeVere would allow high royalties to preclude the production of a fine play. The major difference between the two men was that Bunk would reach into his own pocket when money was needed while DeVere, not a wealthy man, would quietly approach someone else. Neither man troubled the Board with these problems; the Board then, as now, liked to think the Players could survive without charity.''*

As one reviews the records, one fact concerning the people who organized the CLTP cries out for recogni- tion. They were an exceptionally well-educated group. Bill DeVere had spent over twelve years in professional theatre prior to arriving in Cheyenne and many others had graduated from prestigious universities and col- leges. Architects, doctors, lawyers, army officers, and schoolteachers led the Little Theatre movement throughout the thirties, and not the least among these was a cadre of college women that included Agnes O'Mahoney, Alice Fairchild, Frances Mentzer Reiser, Martha Dudley, Meda and Maurine Carley, Fern Her- ring, Elizabeth Hofmann, and Ruth Loomis.

Mrs. Loomis has described the younger women of this cadre as being "recently married, casually fashion- able, pseudo-intellectuals," but she smilingly confesses that they were also achievers, not so much as women, but as people who set high standards and goals for themselves and seldom failed to measure up to their own expectations. With such women committed to the enter- prise, and with men like DeVere, Porter, and O'Daniels, the Cheyenne Little Theatre Players could not help but succeed in their endeavor to bring quality theatre to Cheyenne.

Their goals and aspirations were succinctly stated on their first program, a program that was distributed to a capacity crowd at the auditorium in the old Consistory Temple on May 7, 1930.

One of the outstanding cultural developments in this country during the past decade has been the organization of Little Theatre Groups, for the purpose of promoting the study and appreciation of dramatic literature. This move- ment was organized in Cheyenne in February of this year under the sponsorship of the Women's Clubs and of the several service clubs of the city.

This is the first public performance of the Cheyenne Little Theatre Players, and on the interest with which it is received will depend in great measure the future of this organization. It is hoped that persons who are interested, not only in acting, but in the reading of plays, in directing, in lighting, and in scenic design, will find in the Cheyenne Little Theatre Players an opportunity for further develop- ment of their talents."

The first of many favorable reviews that would be written about CLTP productions appeared in the Tri- bune-Leader the following day.

A capacity crowd greeted the opening performance of the Cheyenne Little Theater [sic] Players, Wednesday night at Consistory Temple. Three one-act plays were given as a part of the National Music Week program.

Directed by William DeVere, members of the casts per- formed adequately in all parts, giving eloquent testimony to the effort that had been expended by the director and players in making the performances a success.

Scenic effects for the plays were made by William DeVere, Frederick Hutchinson Porter and other members of the Little Theater club.

Mrs. J. C. O'Mahoney, president . . ., gave a brief resume of the history of the club, explaining its purpose and that anyone interested, not only in acting, but in the mechanics of the theater, was invited to join the players.

The plays given ranged from comedy and satire to com- edy and then grim tragedy. Before the curtain was drawn on the closing scenes of "The Valiant," tears were being surreptitiously wiped away and sniffs were audible through- out the audience.

The CLTP had arrived, a standard had been set, and the players looked confidently toward the future. Throughout the remainder of the decade and until World War II, their goals remained the same, and no serious thought was given to building projects that were beyond their means.

A sly twinkle appeared in her eye when Frances Reiser was asked to compare the achievements of the CLTP prior to and since that war, and then she said softly and with infinite charm, "We built the theatre; the buildings came later."

The truth of this statement is incontestable, but not necessarily uncomplimentary to either group. More re- cent times have also produced their heroes: organizers like Louise Hallowell and Elizabeth Escobedo, directors like Callie Milstead and John Carroll, and builders like Elizabeth Hofmann, Charles Anderson, and Bill Du- bois. They were ready to literally build on the founda- tions of integrity and reputation the CLTP had built throughout the thirties and forties. These moderns not only knew the CLTP deserved to have its own theatre, they were also innovators who found ways to raise the thousands of dollars needed for their projects. One of these fund-raisers, Elizabeth Hofmann, had been waiting in the wings since 1930, and others like Charles Anderson and Ted Glockler were relative newcomers.

How they built the Playhouse at Windmill Road and Pershing Boulevard, how they brought the Melo- drama into existence, and how they first purchased and then renovated the Atlas Theatre as a home for the Melodrama, are stories that still must be told.

47

This evidence of bartering is worthy of mention only because the CLTP no longer permits the exchange of complimentary tickets for services.

The Board was delayed when Miss Clark asked to be relieved of duties as secretary because her employment would preclude her attendance at every meeting. Although she was subsequently replaced as secretary, she continued to serve on the Board and work on productions until ill health compelled her to seek the solitude of the Big Horns in 1933. The diary that records her last years in the wilderness has been published in Annals of W\om- mg, October, 1967.

The play selected for reading that night , "The Drums of Oude, " became part of the CLTP's fourth production on January 28, 1931 when it was presented along with "Rosalind" at the Con- sistory Temple.

Most of those interviewed who attended the plays of the thirties remember Alice Fairchild as a talented and versatile actress, one who could play any character to perfection, making audiences sympathize with even the most despicable. But Mrs. Fairchild insists that Virginia Kershisnik, president of the Players in 1939-1940, was by far the finest actress of the decade and that Fern Herring ran a close second. The actors most frequently remembered are Bill DeVere, Barrie O'Daniels, John Godfrey, and Lieutenant W. C. Stanton, Harold Vaughn is remembered as the big man with the big voice; his singing filled the Con- sistory on more than one occasion.

William DeVere, Jr. now lives in Charlotte, N. C. He might have been asked about his father's origins, but I preferred to allow William, Sr. to retain the enigmatic quality he cultivated in Cheyenne.

I have been told that Porter, DeVere, and Fairchild jointly con- ceived the Frontier Days Rodeo Night Show, bringing Sally Rand, the fan dancer, to Cheyenne in 1935, and that DeVere originated the now annual Kiwanis Clambake. Not being within the scope of this history, these tidbits have not been confirmed. The program also includes the names of the members of the Board of Directors, the producing director, the stage manager, the property committee, the players, and others who par- ticipated in the performance. These names include Janet Pear- son, Fern Herring, and Alice Fairchild, all destined to become president of the Players by 1937.

48

'Roving Over the Wilds of Wyoming'

By Margaret E. Nielsen

On August 4, 1907, Leroy Stines sent a postcard from Winchester, Wyoming, to Blanche Lewis, the girl he left behind in Fairmont, Nebraska. The picture on it showed Roy, in engineer's clothing — pinch-crowned hat, open-necked shirt, rumpled trousers tucked into laced boots — standing behind a surveyor's transit check- ing his notes.

The inscription on the card read, "Such things as these are occasionally seen roving over the wilds of Wyo- ming. Have camera now. R.S."

After two years' surveying for the Chicago, Burl- ington and Quincy Railroad, he still considered himself lucky to be in the wilds. Although he had always been frail, he was expected, as the oldest child, to work long hours on the family farm, "setting an example for the hired man." When he graduated from high school, he had little hope for anything but a life of unremitting labor. When his father asked him if he wanted to go to the State University in Lincoln, he eagerly accepted the

49

opportunity. Although mathematics had never been one of his strong points he chose a major in engineering. After two years of grappling with physics, mechanical drawing, and surveying, he learned that the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad was looking for engineers to lay out a proposed line from Frannie, Wyo- ming to Lander.

Roy had dreamed of going west since boyhood. In the fall of 1905, when the Burlington sent out an urgent call for surveyors, the line was driving hard to beat the Chicago Northwestern Railroad to the markets of the lucrative mining and cattle country of northern Wyo- ming. With the opening of the Wind River Indian Res- ervation for settlement. Lander would be one of the chief registration points for new claims, and the Burl- ington was pushing the line south to head off competi- tion from the Northwestern.'

A BurHngton folder, issued in 1906, had described the changes in the Big Horn Basin since the advent of the railroad in 1901.

What was then an almost unknown and thinly inhabited region, giving little and taking little from the outside world, is today one of the great wealthy sections of America. Even greater changes will come within the next few years for the Burlington is penetrating the Basin with a new line from Frannie . . . through the Basin to Worland on the Upper Big Horn River. This new line will open up a section so rich that it seems well nigh impossible to speak of it too highly.^ James J. Hill, in describing the larger picture of the "ocean to ocean" market wrote:

Cross the Pacific, and what do we find? Millions of people; and what can they buy? . . . (The Asian) will want of us only the simple staples, as grain, provisions, raw cotton, etc., from which to weave his cloth, and perhaps a little lumber, coal and some hand tools. But his principal de- mand vfilX be just the products which the present (and) coming population of America's great central and western zone is prepared to furnish . . . Now the Burlington has food and fuel to a degree not possessed by any other transportation system. Reaching from Chicago to Denver, and from the Twin Cities to St. Louis and Kansas City, it covers the richest and most diversified zone in the produc- tion of grain, provisions and fuel. What do these central prairies . . . require in return? They need lumber. From where is the lumber to come? From Washington and British Columbia . . . What then have we reached? We have a tremendous volume of traffic across the Northwest between Puget Sound and the Mississippi Valley. The northern railroads will carry westward the meat, corn and coal, together with the raw cotton originating within Burlington territory at St. Louis, and will place these products on the Pacific docks for export to Asia, and for the return trip the freight trains will bring back lumber for the Central and the East.^

Roy Stines was unaware of this grandiose scheme for the Burlington's future. To him, signing on meant a chance to see a virgin area before it lost its wild west ap- peal.

When the fledgling group of engineers arrived at a camp on the barren plains of northern Wyoming, Hugh

Butler was division engineer for the railroad. A 1900 graduate of Doane College in Crete, Nebraska, Butler had taken a temporary job with the Burlington to finance his law school education. He began as a laborer, chopping sunflowers and driving stakes for a surveying crew in Kansas. At Doane he had learned to read a Ver- nier transit used in the construction of the Hoosac Tun- nel by Thomas Doane. Doane was founder of the college and chief engineer of the Burlington.

The transit boss, A. F. Hoagland, impressed with his ability, loaned Butler a copy of Searles Field Engi- neering, and he progressed rapidly from rear chain man to level man to field engineer." By the time he went to the St. Joseph office, it was assumed that he was a grad- uate engineer.

But, when he tried to figure the stresses on a bridge he admitted he didn't know enough to do the job. His superior roared with laughter when Butler told him, "All the engineering I had was trigonometry, calculus, and . . . I've got an old copy of an engineering book." His supervisor told him, "Look here. You wouldn't want to embarrass all of us would you? I'm giving you orders to keep quiet about this. And if you happen to get stuck, don't tell anyone you don't know what to do. Come see me."^

Butler was assigned to Burlington West where he learned that the Burlington had convinced the Secretary of the Interior that it could complete a line from Bill- ings, Montana, to Worland, Wyoming, in time for the opening of the Wind River Indian Reservation. In addi- tion to Worland, Lander, a town on the Chicago and Northwestern, was a registration point. The competing road was well out in front and Burlington had decided to gamble on their young engineer's drive and ingenuity in the last stretch.^

When Stines' crew arrived, track laying had almost been completed. The bridge building was left to the last. It was this task which confronted the engineers. They found Butler to be a hard-driving and innovative supervisor.

As the competition between the railroads reached a fever point, the Tkermopolis Record kept up a constant stream of reports, or rumors, that a railroad would soon be built to the "Hot City."

On September 16, 1905, a front page article an- nounced in headlines that the Burlington would build a branch from Worland to Thermopolis, and the Chicago Northwestern was planning a feeder from Thermopolis to Shoshoni, at the south end of the Wind River Can- yon. In succeeding issues, the paper reported that: there is great activity at McShane's tie camp . . . Both roads are aiming at the same spot to develop a new mining district. . . . The Northwestern Railroad is surveying a route from the new town of Shoshoni in a westerly direc- tion, and up the Wind River Canyon.'

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Bill Nye, in 1880, described the short work season in Wyoming:

the climate is erratic, eccentric and peculiar . . . (and) the early frosts make close connections with the late spring bliz- zards, so that there is only time for a hurried lunch be- tween . . .* When snow enveloped the camp, work was shut down for the season. During the winter the decision was made to continue the line south from Worland toward Ther- mopolis. By April, "three large corps of engineers have been thrown into the field by the Burlington."'

Ice still encrusted the river when the men returned to work. One heavy-laden wagon, which broke through the ice, had to be unloaded, and the contents carried to shore before the horses could struggle to dry land. The melting ice presented another problem when the flood- ed river threatened to carry away the tents pitched on the low shore. The men picked up the frame and canvas tents and carried them to higher ground.

Progress dovvTi the grassy valley of the Big Horn was rapid that summer. They were at the mouth of Goose- berry Creek by December. "[Pjresent objective is the Gebo coal mine below Thermopolis." Surveys were also run up Kirby Creek toward the Stine mine.'"

Reports of "a rich vein south of Thermopolis" and "the recovery of gold-bearing ore" may have precipitat- ed the Burlington's decision to explore the possibilities of a line through the rugged Wind River Canyon.'^ This steep-walled chasm would prove to be the most costly section of the whole line.'^ At times precipitous walls rose directly from the banks of the river, threatening to blot out the sky. Much blasting would be required. Where the construction crews could not go around the steep cliffs, they would tunnel through. The rocks from the blasting would be removed by hand, and hauled out in wheelbarrows.'^

As the crew pushed down the canyon, dodging fall- ing rock, clinging to or climbing over giant boulders, charting tunnels through barriers of solid rock, Stines' camera recorded the work and the rare moments of relaxation in camp.

Sundays gave the engineers a chance to pore over charts and maps in daylight rather than the uncertain glimmer of kerosene lamps. It was also a time for wash- ing clothes, reading, playing cards or swapping tall tales around the campfire. One enterprising soul had brought a Victrola into camp. They listened to the tunes of the day while tipping the bottles smuggled into camp by the person assigned to climb out to the east and take "a trail to Bird's Eye Pass, a stage coach station on the top of the mountain, to get the mail."''' When time hung heavy on their hands, there were always stakes to be chopped. Stines sent a picture of himself at this oc- cupation entitled, "Making 'stake' in Wm." r

Deer, elk, and big horn sheep browsed near their surveys, presenting a challenge to hunters and providing

an ever-present supply of fresh meat. A climb to a rocky point on the cliffs afforded a view of the rushing water 800 to 2000 feet below and of the tableland beyond. The men came to know one outcropping as "chimney rock." At another point, two towering col- umns seemed to lean against each other for support like two of the crew after a night out.

The narrow canyon with its steep walls had long been a barrier to travelers going south. For many years, settlers were unaware that the Big Horn River emerging from the north end was known as the Wind River at the southern entrance.

Much to the consternation of the uninitiated geography student, the Indians had two names for the stream: Big Horn for the lower portion and Wind for the headwaters. There the topography lent to a gathering of the winds as they flowed down the slopes of the (Wind River) mountains until in reality there was the "Big Wind." The dividing point in the stream is at the north end of the . . . canyon where "The Wedding of the Waters" . . . takes place. It is akin to a bride entering a church under one name and leav- ing it with another. This adds a bit of romance to the two names that continued to designate the one stream down through the years.'*

The first white men likely to have gone the length of this mountainous trench were with the party of fur trader William Ashley. In his report to General Henry M. Atkinson on his trip from the rendezvous on the Yel- lowstone in 1822, Ashley wrote:

"Things such as these are occasionally seen rox/ing over the wilds of Wyoming" — Stines postcard from Winches- ter, Wyoming.

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"Over 800 feet to the ground —Red Mountain over- look.

The only very rugged part of the route is in crossing the Big Horn Mountain which is about 30 miles wide. I had the Big Horn river explored from the Wind River Mountain to my place of embarkation. There is little or no difficulty in the navigation of that river from its mouth to Wind River Mountain. It may be ascended for that far at a tolerable stage of water with a boat drawing three feet of water." The Thermopolis Record of April 13, 1907, de- scribed a trip made down the river seven years earlier: So far as we are able to learn this was the first passage of the gorge by white men. The primary object of the venture was to see what sort of mineral prospects were revealed where the mountains are cleft as by the stroke of a sword in the hands of a giant. The love of adventure was perhaps a strong secondary consideration. The fifteen day trip was made more difficult because the river was low and numerous rocks protruded that would have been safely covered in higher water.

The men met the problem of shooting the rapids with considerable ingenuity. When they saw the need of lightening the boat, they threw out the four deer and three sheep they had shot.

Strange to say, they were recovered farther down. ... In one place the skiff wedged between two rocks and the dashing water filled it almost immediately. Close by was a rock pinnacle, about the size of a fence post, rising from the water. Taking a wagon sheet from the boat, the men wrapped it around the rock, where it froze solid in a minute or two, making a sort of toadstool in the middle of the river. Onto this they loaded the entire contents of the boat and then stepped out onto a nearby rock. Relieved of its weight, the boat was tossed into the air by the current, turned completely over and dropped more than twenty feet downstream. After considerable work it was righted and the outfit replaced with nothing more than a thorough drenching."

The discovery of coal brought changes after that daring journey. There were numerous miner's camps scattered along the stream.

Trips into Thermopolis were a much anticipated event for the surveyors. There they relaxed in the water of the "world's largest mineral hot spring." In years to 52

come, successive Burlington folders advertised the benefits of the 132° mineral springs:

Any persons suffering from rheumatism, stomach troubles, catarrh, or nervous breakdown, may well spend a few weeks, or months, drinking and bathing in these waters from the hot interior of the earth.'"

With the promise of a railroad connecting Ther- mopolis with the more populous sections of the country, plans were underway for a new sanitarium:

to be erected here by a company headed by Dr. A. G. Hamilton of Springfield, Neb. . . . The building is to be composed of a main structure and two wings, 200x200 feet in size, two stories and a basement. . . . Every modem con- venience is to be installed and it is the design of the pro- moters to make this sanitarium one of the best in the coun- try. The cost is to be upwards of $100,000." These plans mirrored the general feeling of opti- mism in the little tovwi.

Settlers were pouring in to take up claims on a newly opened portion of the Wind River Indian Reservation . . . while to the north . . . enormous coal deposits brought promise of a prosperous future. Hotels, blacksmith shops, general stores, meat markets, lumber yards — all were busy and expanding — and so were the saloons. Music could be heard coming from them day and night. Yet there was relatively little trouble, for several churches and a new school gave the stability often lacking in a burgeoning town.^°

In spite of the town's new-found respectability, Stines was more interested in its past when it had been the hangout of outlaws whose exploits matched those of the desperadoes in the dime novels of his boyhood. Less than ten years before it was:

the preferred rendezvous for such noted outlaws as Kid Currie and Butch Cassidy's Hole in the Wall gangs. These outfits would come into the country for entertainment, to shoot up old Thermopolis [at the mouth of Owl Creek] col- lect some revenue or gain a few recruits. Other outlaws of lesser attainments, horse thieves, common murderers or post office robbers frequented the locality to rest up from one exploit and plan new ones. . . . And while enjoying the health giving springs, should the eye of the law be turned towards them, it was easy to vanish into the mountain defiles nearby. A story is told that several of the Hole in the Wall gang that lived near Thermopolis and their kids went to school there. ^'

In late fall, the project head pushed the crew to finish as much of the survey as possible before snow obliterated the rugged terrain. This meant long hours of work then a walk of two or three miles back to camp for the night. Stines was small, but wiry, and kept pace with the others. When the last stake was driven, the men broke camp and returned to Thermopolis.

Stines checked into a hotel room and collapsed on the bed. Late the next morning he woke with a start. In the darkened room he sensed that someone was staring at him. He turned toward the door and saw a man's head outlined in the transom. When confronted the em- barrassed room clerk told Stines he was concerned because he had not seen Stine's since late afternoon the day before. He had come to check on him.

Stines' cousin, Harry Smith, also of Fairmont, had signed on with the BurHngton about the same time. Assigned to a corps of engineers south of the canyon, he started as Hugh Butler had done, chopping brush and driving stakes. He soon progressed to other surveying tasks.

Early in his stay, he saved his earnings as a laborer to fulfill a longtime desire to ride across the plains in full cowboy regalia. When he had accumulated the proper hat, woolly chaps and gloves, red shirt, bandana, pistol and holster, he borrowed a horse and had his picture taken to send back to the folks at home. He soon learned that the chaps and high-heeled boots were fine for riding through heavy brush, but were a definite han- dicap when walking across the rough terrain.

When Stines was camped near Thermopolis one year, the cousins agreed to meet in the canyon and spend Christmas together. At the appointed time, Stines started walking from camp, ploughing through waist deep snow drifts, while Smith on his borrowed horse rode up from the south. When they met. Smith helped his exhausted cousin onto the horse and they took turns, riding and floundering through the snow until they reached Stines' camp.

In 1908, as the surveyors neared completion of their work, rumors flew as to the future of the route. "The Northwestern was building up the canyon from the south and the Burlington was ready to lay track." "Both railroads were cooperating on a common line through the canyon." "The Northwestern backed Asmus Boysen who wanted to build a dam which would block the traf- fic." "Both railroads were working to keep the canyon open."^^

To Thermopolis, the need for a railroad was of paramount importance.

No other question so vitally affecting the state of Wyoming and its people has recently arisen equal to that involved in the application by state engineer Asmus Boysen for a per- mit to construct a