Tag: history

I haven't been as active on Carsonpedia as I had hoped. I've only written a few articles there since I launched the site on the First. Of course, I completely expected that this would happen, since I am a confirmed procrastinator, but I had hoped to be able to prove myself wrong.

Oh well, there's no point in complaining about it. Got to just keep plugging away. And the few articles I have written are ones that kind of represent the vision I have of Carsonpedia, to become an encyclopedic reference of Western Nevada, and especially a reference for things that aren't already heavily referenced elsewhere. I just posted what I hope is one of the most complete articles about the International Hotel in Virginia City to be found online, and it's skyrocketing up the charts at Google to #26. (Hey, give the site some time to build PageRank.)

I also made a page about the Great Fire of 1875 (so I was on a Virginia City kick), and actually had other contributors create pages about the Laxalt Building, U.S. Mint, and Blasdel Building. So, it's not like the site is dead. It's just growing slowly.

Something I started today is wildly ambitious, which probably means it won't be completed for five years, if ever. But I started a page for the Nevada State Historical Markers. You know, those little blue signs you see all over town. There are 266 of them in the state, and I want to get pages for all of them up on the site, with pictures of the sign and the full text. It's an idea I've been kicking around for a couple of years, originally planned as a section on Around Carson. But ideas like this are perfectly suited for Carsonpedia, so I've shifted it over there. Posting the text is the easy part; the State Historic Preservation Office already has a website which lists the full text of every marker out there, so it's a matter of copy and paste. But the photos will be more interesting. A lot of the markers are right here in town, so it would be easy in a couple of hours to jump around town and knock them all out in one day. But some of them are quite remote, on the many backroads of the Nevada desert. Getting those would be quite a project.

And that's where the collaborative nature of something like Carsonpedia comes into play. Between all of us reading this, we make up an army of photographers that could descend on the desert to photograph these signs. And it would still be a big effort, but each of us would only have to play a small part.

I know it's a tiny insignificant little thing, cataloging all the historical markers. But it's the little things like this that people stumble across in their surfing, and it makes them happy, if only for a little bit. Or it teaches them something. Or it lets them travel someplace they could never travel on their own.

Every day when I go to bed, I try to ask myself, "How did you make the internet better today?" And with something like Carsonpedia, I feel like I'm doing it, little by little. Even if I'm procrastinating.

WashoeValley.org has a story on the "town" of Sundown Town. Sundown was an Old West amusement park that was built in the hills above Old Washoe City in 1960. It was built on the shores of Joy Lake and included a saloon, a jail, a blacksmith shop, and a livery stable. They had stagecoach rides, gunfights, and a trained bull. It was all the brainchild of Buster Keaton, Jr., son of the silent film star. He and a couple of partners envisioned Sundown Town as an Old West getaway for visitors to Reno, and they saw it becoming very popular and growing over the decades, kind of like Disneyland. It was kind of unfortunately-named, though, since a "sundown town" is more commonly used to describe a place where Blacks or Indians had to leave town after the sun set. Minden, reportedly, was a sundown town, and that's where the tradition of blowing the town whistle at 6pm started.

I doubt that the name contributed to Sundown Town's downfall, though. By 1963 the park was closed and sold, probably just because they weren't able to attract the crowds they needed to keep such a place open. A few years later the Ponderosa Ranch took the same concept and made it fly at Lake Tahoe, but even that park ended up closing recently.

Sundown Town went through several owners after closing, each of which promised to reopen the park bigger and better, but nothing ever came of it. Many of the buildings burned in 1966, and today the site is in private hands and closed to the public. Joy Lake is located to the northwest of Old Washoe City. To get there you take the road by the Chocolate Nugget that goes under the new freeway underpass. But I think the whole lake is privately owned, and trespassing is not allowed.

Satellite view of the site of Sundown Town. Joy Lake is to the south (left).

WashoeValley.org also links to an in-depth site about Sundown Town, written by someone whose mother was a co-owner of the park. If you're interested, you need to go read the whole thing.

I was rooting around my other website's archives when I came across this story from a few years ago about the old International Hotel in Virginia City. There was also a link to a Nevada Appeal article about the hotel. The article pre-dated Around Carson, so I thought I'd dig it out and bring it to light again.

This International was actually the third International Hotel in Virginia City. it was built in 1876 after the previous International had burned to the ground during the Great Fire the year before. This third hotel was bigger and more opulent than any that came before, boasting six stories, 160 rooms, and the first elevator in Nevada. It couldn't escape the Curse of the International forever, though. This hotel also burned to the ground on December 12, 1914.

I've also created an article on Carsonpedia about the International Hotel. Hopefully I'll one day be able to write articles like this about every historic building in the area. I also found a bunch of old pictures of the hotel and added them to the Western Nevada Historic Photo Collection. You can see them all here. I especially like this picture taken in 1866, the only one that I'm aware exists of the second International Hotel, that burned in 1875.

You see, there have always been tourists in Virginia City. This picture was taken sometime in the 1940s, and it comes from the Johan Hagemeyer Photograph Collection. Johan was a photographer from San Francisco, and here it looks like he and his friends came up to the Comstock for a day or two. What's funny is how out-of-place they look; you can tell these are city people out for a jaunt, and not VC natives reminiscing about their days in the mines.

You can also tell by the picture that even in the 1940s Virginia City was catering to the tourist trade. The signs back then were much the same as what you'll find now: sandwiches, hot dogs, clean rest rooms. And the Suicide Table was on display even back then, hoping to draw people in with a lurid name and get them to stay for some gambling. This was 60 years ago, and you'd be hard-pressed to find many differences between then and now in Virginia City. Sure, a few buildings have collapsed, new ones were built, stores have come and gone, but the character of the town is the same. An Old West town, catering to visitors who want to relive the Old West.

I think Virginia City has been in the tourism game far longer than it was in the mining game. But unlike mining, the tourism boom shows no sign of stopping; it just grows bigger and bigger. These five tourists may be gone, but there are thousands more just like them, even sixty years later.

Go and check out the big version of the picture.

No Safe Place today has a little article on the State Printing Office. This is a great little building that's still around. but it's hard to find because for 15 years it's been hidden behind the colossal State Library.

Ruby McFarland in the Nevada Appeal brings us a short history of fire in downtown Dayton. And she ends with this admonition to be careful with fire around the historic building they have left:

It's difficult to relate any kind of history about a vacant piece of property. It falls into the "so what?" category when outsiders come to view our history. Let's do what we can to maintain the buildings and history of Dayton.

And downtown Carson City, while its history has been blissfully devoid of catastrophic fire, still has its share of "so what" vacant lots, locations where buildings were lost to the wrecking ball. Places like the Nugget's west parking lot, that used to house the Arlington Hotel. The empty lot next to Jack In The Box on Stewart Street where the V&T shops used to stand. And the Children's Services / Boys and Girls Club land on Fifth Street, which was home to the Nevada State Children's Home. All of those are buildings that would be a huge draw for Carson City if they were still around, but now they're gone. At least the plan to demolish the State Capitol in the 1950s never came to pass. Let's make sure we don't lose any more buildings.

Fred Nietz has been on a treasure hunt lately. Fred is a principal of Arlington Group, an organization that is responsible for coordinating events in Carson City, including trying to spearhead activities to celebrate Carson City's Sesquicentennial next year. Fred is also a sometime contributor to this site. The treasure in question is one of Carson City's forgotten relics, the "sandstone" eagle of Abe Curry. It is pictured above, right after its restoration in the 1970s. Right before it disappeared from public view. Fred sent along some pictures and notes, and wanted me to share the story of the eagle with you.

Abraham Curry is widely recognized as the "father" of Carson City. Back in 1858 he and a couple of business partners bought a large portion of the Eagle Valley off of its current resident, a rancher and trading post operator named John B. Mankins. The guys then set about laying out a town and trying to convince migrating pioneers to stay and settle down here, instead of continuing on to California. Their efforts were largely successful; obviously, since Carson City is still here today.

Curry is the most well-known of the group, the one most often credited with sticking with the job of building a town from nothing in the middle of the desert. He also opened up the valley's first vacation resort, at a hot springs a couple of miles out of town. He had a hotel built at the site, using sandstone taken from a nearby quarry, and named it the Warm Springs Hotel. The site is now home to the Nevada State Prison, but back then it was a getaway spot, a place for weary travelers to rest and also for the elite of the burgeoning town of Carson City to meet. Curry even rented out space in the hotel for the Territorial government to hold their legislative sessions.

One of the finishing touches Curry added to the hotel was the statue of an eagle. He mounted the eagle on the roof of the hotel over the entrance, to serve as welcome to anyone who came to visit. You can see it on its perch in the pictures below.

In 1864 Curry sold his hotel to the Territorial government to be used as a prison. The eagle was part of the deal. It stayed on the property, survived a fire, and in 1898 was moved to a new perch atop the gates of the prison. Again, to serve as a welcome, this time to a more reluctant class of visitors.

In 1920, the Fraternal Order of Eagles, Carson City Aerie No. 1006, had renovated the Schulz Building in downtown Carson City to serve as their headquarters. This building was at the southeast corner of Carson and Robinson Streets, where the Carson Nugget's huge neon sign resides today. The Eagles, wishing to connect with a brother in arms, as it were, procured the sandstone eagle from the prison and mounted it on top of their own building. From this place of prominence it was able to watch over all of downtown, and it was up here that it celebrated its 100th birthday.

In 1972 the Carson Nugget, then a small casino and coffee shop next door, had grand expansion plans that called for the demolition of the Schulz Building. The eagle once again was moved, this time to spare it from the wrecking ball, but this move wasn't as kind to the sculpture. The eagle split into three pieces during the move, and was placed into a box awaiting restoration.

By 1975 the Eagles were settled into their new headquarters, at 1380 E Fifth St, where they still are today. The eagle was taken out of its box, patched up, and given a new coat of paint. It was then placed on display inside the headquarters building, where over the decades it was forgotten by everyone who was not a member of the Fraternal Order of Eagles. Fred Nietz, through his snooping around, was able to track down the eagle to its current home, and was granted access this week to visit it and take a couple of pictures.

The eagle sits in a corner of the room, surrounded by a small shrine of Eagle memorabilia. And although it's known as the "sandstone eagle", and it's referred to as being carved out of the same native sandstone as the Warm Springs Hotel, Fred has assured me that it was actually carved out of wood. The sculpture is now nearly 150 years old, just like Carson City itself, and it's already been broken once. It probably couldn't handle being exposed to the elements anymore, so it is kept inside here, safe from the weather. And here it will probably stay, unless Fred is able to use his influence to have it displayed in an area of more prominence. But it's good just knowing it's still around, knowing that it hasn't been lost to time like so many other artifacts. There are many large monuments to Carson City's history that we can visit, like the State Capitol and the U.S. Mint buildings, and now that this little eagle has been rediscovered it can join its larger brothers in our consciousness, serving as a link to our past even as Carson City grows beyond the wildest dreams of Abe Curry.

Excerpt from "Little Sheaves" Gathered While Gleaning After Reapers (1874), by Caroline M. Churchill.

There is living in Carson City a famous old cat who is generally known by the significant cognomen "Stump." This name was given him because of a shortcoming of the caudal appendage. Stump has also "bob ears." It is a matter of wonder to me why he is not called by the latter instead of the former name.

This feline is an old resident of Carson, having lived in the place for the last fifteen years. He is an immense creature. When I first saw him I thought he must belong to the wild cat family. I am told, however, that he is perfectly peaceable in disposition, and that the scratches upon his nose are only the results of exchanging love taps with his neighbors.

I came to the conclusion that his offspring were numerous, from the strong family resemblance to be detected in many of the young felines in the neighborhood.

Stump does very little for the family, I assure you; he is like many men in this respect--so afraid that he might do something for the children of other cats that he will do nothing for his own. The younger felines may thank the superior industry and diligence of the mother cat, who is generally equal to the task of rearing her offspring, without assistance from relatives.

I realize that cats have always been terribly misrepresented and slandered; but I am speaking only the truth when I say that Stump frequents all the most popular saloons in the vicinity. He may frequently be seen serenely sitting on a beer keg or counter, looking as if he did not care whether school kept or not.

Dogs have few rights or privileges which Stump feels bound to respect. If one happens by on his way from the meat market, Stump will pounce upon him and speedily relieve him of all further responsibility of marketing. Stump is recognized as one of the first settlers, is a member of the society of "Old Prospectors," and is treated with the acknowledged deference due an aged bummer. He puts up, for the present, at the "Old Globe Saloon."

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We are now called upon to record the death of this most worthy creature who was endeared to the sympathizing hearts of this community by the mutual associations of a long and eventful life.

About fifteen years ago this cat was found by a townsman, in a half-starved condition, just as he had been dropped down from the moon or some unknown planet, after the obscure manner of cats. He was "taken in," fed and cared for in a way characteristic of the inhabitants of Carson City; the results were, that in a short time he became able to hunt for himself, and in so doing, to contribute his share of general blessings to the community by keeping rats, mice, small birds, all vermin and dogs within the limited sphere allotted them by nature.

As Stump leaves behind him many living friends and relations, it may be well to mention some of his faults as well as his many virtues.

Misfortune, adventure, disappointment and sorrow is the common lot of all creatures; most especially did this fall true to the early Carson residents, and Stump shared the common adversities and peculiar social reverses of many an early settler.

His associations were not always what they might have been. He spent his last days in a saloon. His last rest was upon a beer keg. It was a sad, although somewhat interesting sight to see Stump, with other invalids, taking his daily sun bath in the door of his favorite resort.

He seemed to have an intuitive knowledge of the common laws of health, and although a frequenter of doubtful places, was known to be perfectly temperate in his habits. Stump's early love-life, like that of most of the old settlers, has been one of many perils and hairbreadth escapes. The scars resulting from these adventures he carried to his last resting place. He was somewhat addicted to profanity, and would roll out terrible oaths, as cats are wont to do when vexed by the green-eyed monster, jealousy.

Notwithstanding his faults (and who has them not?) he played well his part in life, and departed, having the love and toleration of the entire community. On the 6th of April Stump took an informal leave of his old "stamping" ground; he was found dead by a man who frequented the "Old Globe".

When poor old Stump was stiff and cold,
Alas! said he, poor Stump was very old.
Jack may have thought, but nothing more he said;
Just raised his hat and scratched his head,
Drew off his boots and went to bed.

HISTORY OF SUTRO
1940 - 1945
By Francis West

I will start by giving some of the circumstances by which we arrived at Sutro in 1940. My Father and Mother (Albert and Lyla West), two Sisters (Corlene and Mary), and myself left Bridgewater, Vermont about Aug. 1, 1940 and arrived at Lakeview, Nevada around Aug. 20, 1940. I had several uncles living in Nevada at the time. One uncle (Lester West) was overseer of the Virginia City Water Co. and lived in the two story white house at Lakeview. Dad went to work for a company ( I believe the Nevada Light & Power Co.) building a high line from Silver City to Dayton for the dredging co. that nearly consumed one end of the town. I remember Dad telling me that he had replaced a man that had been electrocuted in the construction of that line.

Sometime about Oct. 1, 1940 Dad received an offer of a job working for the Sutro Tunnel & Drainage Co. James Leonard (a lawyer from New York) owned the Company at that time. James younger brother Franklin was vice-president and supervised the company in its operations. Franklin also had a Son named Hobart but I don’t think he was involved with the day to day operations of the tunnel. Franklin also owned the VC&GH Water Company so I think Hobart, whom he called Hobie, was part of that operation. I will refer to Franklin as Mr. Leonard in the furtherance of this article. Anyhow, Dad went to work as a laborer in the tunnel. I believe there was a crew of five or six with a foreman by the name of Frank Capanilla (of Italian nationality).

Sometime in early 1941 Frank left or was removed as foreman and Dad was made the overseer of the tunnel operation. I think Mr. Leonard later hired Frank for a job at the water station above Virginia City on Mt. Davidson. I really think Dad was a bit apprehensive of taking on the responsibility as foreman as he had worked underground only a short time.

A little history of the Sutro mansion as I recall. When we moved there it hadn’t been occupied for some time. Mom and Dad worked hard just to get it into a livable condition before we moved in. We lived on the first floor but there were three floors to the building. Dad later fixed up a guest room at the head of the stairs on the second floor. I remember there was a marble fireplace in every room except the bathrooms and kitchen. There was two huge chimneys so there must have been quite a network of pipes to connect all the fireplaces. On top there was a penthouse where we kids used to play and of course you could see up and down the valley for miles. I think the penthouse was about 15 x 15 in area. It had windows that were curved at the top as I think all the windows in the mansion were. I remember the downstairs rooms had 12 foot ceilings. As you entered the big hallway the stairs were straight ahead. To the left was a large parlor with the most beautiful Victorian furniture as was the furniture throughout the house. A library was to the right that had an untold number of books. Just past the library was a large walk in pantry that Mom had spent all summer filling with goods she had canned. Past the pantry a door opened into a hugh dining room. It had all the accommodations (hutches, serving tables, etc.) I remember the dining table could be extended to accommodate at least 24 people. Off the parlor (living room) there was a bathroom with a beautiful old time tub and lavatory. The commode had its water tank high up on the wall. When you pulled the chain you better be off or you would get a free bath. Behind the bathroom were two more rooms Dad turned into bedrooms. I think one had been a sewing room.
The kitchen and a storage room was off the dining room and I think was a add on to the mansion proper. In all probability it was built at the time the mansion was but it was one story. I remember Frank C. had a billy goat that was always getting on the kitchen roof and making my Mother mad. Also, it would chase me and get on the top of our car. Funny it never chased my sisters. Guess they were too mean. Getting back to the kitchen, there was a stove that must have been 10 to 20 feet long. Sort of like the old time hotel stoves. Dad installed us a regular cook stove. The second story of the mansion had several parlors and a couple of bedrooms. I’m not sure about the third story but think it was mostly bedrooms. I know the stairways were wide and winding. I loved to slide down the bannisters when Mom wasn’t looking. Outside was a small lawn on the left as you walked up to the big porch (ran the full length of the main house). There were guy rods from the ground up to the third story to keep the wind from blowing the thing away. These were located on the left and back side. They were made in sections and about an inch in thickness. When we moved there Dad refurbished the water system which had a tank up in back of the house. All the drinking water came from a spring about a mile back in the tunnel. The rest of the water flowing out the tunnel from the mines of Virginia City was not potable. More about the outflow later. There was a large reservoir located about half a mile farther up the hillside. I think this was originally designated as the water supply for all of Sutros fire protection system as there was hydrants sticking up all around the tunnel and grounds. This system hadn’t been activated for many years and perhaps the mansion might have been saved if it had. I know there was a large water tank up in the attic which would have been filled by the fire protection system The mansion originally had gas lights. There was a carbide generating plant located on the hill behind the house about 100 yards away. Dad wired (he had been a electrician by trade in Vt.) the first story for electricity and installed a DC generating waterwheel down by the pond. I remember we always had to leave one lightbulb burning and being DC current the lights would flicker somewhat. I think we lived in the mansion about 13 months.

As for the fire that consumed the mansion I didn’t get to see much. I remember my Mom getting us kids up while Dad tried vainly to carry a five gallon bucket of water up to the roof. By the time he got up there the whole roof was ablaze. You can imagine how dry the structure must have been as old as it was. I remember briefly looking out the folks bedroom window and seeing the reflection of the fire on the hillside. We three kids were taken to some neighbors home as to be out of danger. Some furniture was saved but all our personal effects were burned. Mom was really hurt with all her pictures and things of her earlier family life gone. As I think back on that great old historical place I am proud to have been a part of it if ever so briefly.

HISTORY OF SUTRO (Cont.)
1940 -1945
By Francis West

As the tunnel was the center of operations at Sutro, I will try to recollect the period as I remember it. My sisters and myself were not allowed to go into the tunnel but did play around the portal and would wander inside several hundred feet. It was always a cool place to be in the summer time as there was always cooler air heading for the mines of Virginia City. All directions I give will be as one would give facing the portal. The dimensions of the tunnel as I recall them are as thus: The length of the main shaft was about four miles, then divided into two smaller shafts about one and a half miles in length each. This made a total of about seven miles. The shape was almost like a Y with the right toward Virginia City and the left toward Gold Hill. There were air shafts at several locations along the length of the main shaft. These rose to the surface as large pipes and probably were mainly for the original excavation. At the portal the width was about twelve feet and was about ten feet high. I believe these dimensions were about the same for the length of the main shaft. At the portal the main shaft was shored with large uprights and cross beams (at least 10 X10s) and covered with planking (3 X 12s). I was told some parts of the tunnel were bored through solid rock and therefore contained no shoring. At the time we lived at Sutro there was one set of rails going in on the left side with the water drainage from the mines coming out the right side. Originally I think there were two sets of rails, one on each side, with a ditch in the center. At the portal there was a small building that housed carbide for the workers lamps and perhaps explosives if needed. It was built of masonry material and had a solid steel door that was kept locked.

Mules were used to pull the railcar that carried the workers and a timber car if needed. I remember three mules. Two mules were named Ramona and Peggy. Another that was used as a training mule was named Grandma. She was old and retired as far as working in the tunnel was concerned. The mules were very smart. If a plank between the rails had broken for some reason they would stop and not walk on that plank. Horses would not have worked in a environment of that nature. The mules would have two carbide lights, one on each side, while each worker carried one large carbide light (not the small ones worn on a safety hat). When the mules were unhitched at the end of the day after coming out from the tunnel, they would roll and roll in the dust of the corral out by the barn. I guess they were taking a bath as the men would after the heat of the days work.

I was told there was a complete machine shop located in a room dug out several miles into the tunnel. It was not being used and probably the machines were in a rusty condition from the damp air. There was talk of bringing the equipment out to sell for scrap metal for the war effort but this was not done at least from the Sutro end. Also, there was a change house located in the tunnel that the men used to change clothes. The damp, hot working conditions necessitated a change at the end of a shift, otherwise it would be very cool returning out to the portal.

The one time I was allowed to go into the tunnel for any distance was the occasion of a cave-in located a couple of miles in. After supper one summer evening Dad noticed the water had almost stopped in the drainage ditch. He let me get on the electric car (used for inspections and tours) with him to go in for a look see. You can imagine the excitement of a young lad not knowing what was beyond the headlight beam of that electric car. I not only was able to see a partial cave-in (it didn’t completely fill the tunnel) but I got to see some of the tunnel I had only heard about. I saw the massive doors that were installed when the mine owners decided not to pay for drainage rights shortly after the tunnel was built. I guess when the tunnel was closed off and flooded their mines they were glad to pay (even higher rates I was told). I understand one of the reasons for the tunnel was the steam pumps of that period could only pump water so high. The mines were going so deep they were having trouble getting the water to the surface. As to the mines that were drained through the tunnel I seem to remember the names of a couple of them. The Ophir and the Savage I recall, but I know there were several others. I remember Dad telling me about one mine that was so deep that the men could only work for a short period of time. They would have to go to a cooler place and rest. Can’t remember the name of that mine but believe they had hit a underground stream of thermal water. Another bit of history Dad relayed to me was the time Virginia city had a terrible blizzard. People couldn’t get in or out and was running low on supplies. They were able to bring food and goods through the tunnel for their relief.

Of course Mr. Sutro had much greater plans for his tunnel besides draining the mines. He wanted the rich ore from the mines to be transported out through the tunnel to his mills. These were to be built on the Carson River. Here he would have an abundant water supply and an easier access to wood for power. He would make a fortune in drayage and refining operations as well as the drainage fees. The mine owners evidently didn’t agree and Sutro sold out shortly after the tunnel was completed.

I will try to describe some of the buildings around the tunnel as I remember them. To the left and back away from the portal was the assay shop. When we moved there it was pretty run down but did contain a small furnace with a high metal chimney protruding from the roof. After the mansion burned Dad converted it into living quarters for our family. It was pretty crowded at first for a family of five. Later Dad added on a bedroom and a bathroom. There was a large metal tank up behind the house for water that came from the spring in the tunnel. With running water Dad installed some coils of pipe in the cook stove along with a hot water tank so we had hot water. When the water got to hot the steam would come out a pop off pipe at the end of the house up under the eaves. Mom and us kids really enjoyed the indoor bathroom as it was no fun going out to the two holer in the wintertime. Sometime in 1942 my Grandfather (Francis Hadley) cane to live with us from Vermont, so Dad added a lean-to bedroom on the back where Grandpa and myself slept. Grandpa later went to work for the Virginia City Water Company at the Tank Station up in the Sierras above Lakeview. I remember we had one of those old time hand crank telephones. We were connected to the switch board at the Water Co. in Virginia City. They could get us to the outside world but anything connected to that switch board was on a party line. When you rang someone up you could hear receivers being lifted off the hook all along the line.

Across the roadway from the house stood a long warehouse with a loading platform running the full length. It had quite of bit of odds and ends of material. Exactly what I don’t remember. I remember on the end facing the house there was two rooms downstairs and one upstairs that had probably been offices. These had been converted to a living area and was lived in for awhile by a young single man I only remember as Johnny. I remember after Johnny moved out we kids used to play in the warehouse. Upstairs there was a door leading out onto a loft where there was some boxes of old books about Sutro. I would love to get my hands on some of those books today but am sure they are long gone.

Beyond the warehouse was the house that Frank C. lived in. I think that building had probably been offices at one time, the way the building was shaped. It had several gable roofs indicating it had been added on to more than once.

Out beyond that house was a building that contained a steam plant. It had a lean-to shed on the back that we used as a chicken house. The chicken house was right on the edge of the ore dump. We had white leggon (sic.) hens that I took care of for spending money. I sold the eggs to Mr. Braums grocery store in Dayton. That’s how I earned money for a bicycle, scouting equipment etc. I remember the old steam boiler was still there when we moved away. I suppose
this plant provided steam power for the entire Sutro operation including some of the equipment used in the tunnel during the time of its construction.

There was a garage type of building near the steam plant. It was locked and we kids were not allowed in. I think it contained some old mining equipment such as muckers, wheel drills etc. but I can’t be certain. Also, there was a little one car garage near our house. Don’t think Dad kept our 37 Ford in there much as it was pretty dilapidated (the building).

There was a mill for processing ore directly out from the tunnel portal. It was located down over the ore dump with a ramp running out to the top story. This ramp was just wide enough for dump trucks to back out and unload. I think the mill was built sometime after the turn of the century as there was no evidence of rail tracks going out to it. I know that when we moved to Sutro there was a gas powered shovel at the one ore dump to the left as you came up the hill to Sutro. I have wondered if those tailings were milled there at that mill. I know it was a stamp mill as I used to slide down a chute under a blocked up stamp. We kids had a lot of fun playing in that old gold mill. I remember It was powered by two diesel engines.

At the right of the portal was a large machine shop. I remember it was in pretty bad condition and was torn down while we were living there. Only one story but as high as a two story building, there were many shaft extensions and flat belted wooden pulleys all around the upper part. There was a lean-to cover across the front. Just inside there was a shaft that went down at least sixty feet to a water wheel. From the wheel there was a tunnel that carried the water out to the flats below the ore dump and gold mill. I believe not only waterpower but steam power was used to power the machine shop. All of the machinery had been removed before we arrived at Sutro. I really think this was one of the first buildings built when Mr. Sutro dug his tunnel. We kids were told to stay out of the building as it might fall in at any time.

Across the road from the machine shop was a complete blacksmith shop. I remember it had a dirt floor which I thought was strange. It contained two forges with big round hoods to let out the smoke. I guess with forges and someone working with red hot metal you wouldn’t want a wooden floor. I remember that all the blacksmith tools were still in there. The shop wasn’t used while we were there but in previous times with a lot of mules and horses it must have been a busy place.

Out from the blacksmith shop there was a building with a big metal water tank. The men filled their water coolers here before going into the tunnel to work. Next to this was a bath house with a wooden open top tank on top. The sun was used to heat the water for the showers inside. I remember about half of the folks in Dayton came out to Sutro to get their drinking water at the time they had the typhoid epidemic about 1942 or 43. That was the best and purest water that came from a spring deep within the tunnel.

Next door was the shed for the electric car used for inspections and tours of the tunnel. There was a V-8 Ford 60 engine hooked to a generating charger that was used to recharge the batteries on the electric car. When we moved there the electric car was not in operation as was the Ford engine and charger. Dad worked about a year in his spare time getting every thing going.

The barn was probably one of my favorite places as there was where the mules, our horses, a cow, and rabbits were kept. I remember there were several stalls and a hay loft where they stored alfalfa for the animals in the winter time. On the back was a long shed where our horses and a cow were sheltered. Rabbit pens were located along the side opposite the corrals. A ditch in front was there to divert water from the tunnel going into the pond. It would have allowed the water to flow out over the ore dump into a dry wash toward the Carson River but was not used as far as I can recollect. Dad controlled the height of the water in the pond by letting water out through the large pipe that went under the ore dump into the irrigation ditches.

On the subject of water and irrigation, some of the finest alfalfa was raised from the warm mineral water that flowed from the tunnel. I can’t estimate the size of the fields but do know enough alfalfa was raised to keep all the animals at both Sutro and the Virginia City Water Company. The fields were surrounded by magnificent cottonwood trees and between the ore dump and the fields was a nice apple orchard. Next to the orchard we had an excellent garden (which I hated to weed). All these entities were watered by a series of irrigation ditches and gates.

I will try to describe a little of the area in general. The ore dumps extended for some distance out to the right and left of the tunnel. Sutro could be plainly seen as you came over the hill from Dayton (on the old road) and from several miles down the valley. It was said you could see the mansion from twenty miles away. Behind the barn were quite a few old wagons we kids liked to play on. Some were large wagons with high seats. I think several were ore wagons as they had high and wide tires. Also, I believe a couple were freight wagons as the sides were not so high. There was also a hay stacker that was used while we were there.

Dominic Laxall used to winter his sheep around Sutro and would give us lambs that had been orphaned. We would raise them and hated when it came time to butcher them. My sisters wouldn’t eat lamb if they knew that’s what Mom had cooked. They didn’t want to eat one of their pets. Early in the years we were there Mr. Laxall gave us a dog (sheep dog of course) that we had for years after we left Sutro. We named him Basco and he was forever herding our chickens. I had the privilege of going out to visit the sheep herder many times after school. We couldn’t understand each others language (they were mostly Basque in nationality) but they seemed to enjoy the company. A real treat was if they invited me to stay for a supper of stew. The sheep dogs never bothered me but I had to watch out for the goats that led the sheep. The sheep used to water at the pond and it was a sight to see several thousand sheep gather around that pond to drink.

I once saw a map of the layout of the town of Sutro, also, a plan of the tunnel. The main street ran straight out from the tunnel as I remember and had well planned side streets. As I recollect it was to be a rather large city but I have no idea how much was actually built. All that was remaining at the time we were there were two old outside domes that were ovens for a bakery and two graves with a wooden fence around them. I was told these were two of the workers that had been killed in building the tunnel. I can’t remember if the map I saw was in the mansion before it was consumed by fire or if it was something Dad had gotten from Mr. Leonard.

We moved from Sutro to a ranch in Southern Oregon the first part of July, 1945. The mines in Virginia City were closed by the WWII effort and I figure the mine owners weren’t willing to pay for drainage of mines that were not operating. In closing out this reminiscence I want to say these recollections are over fifty years later. The years of a lad at age seven through twelve are full of wonders and dreams. I have tried to give facts and some history of Sutro as accurately as I can remember. If historians or old-timers of that period of history can disprove my statements and recollections it won’t hurt my feelings whatsoever. I know in my heart that the period of 1940 to 1945 was a wonderful part of my life. I am proud to have been a part of the history of Sutro even if a small part.

Francis A. West

You may miss this because it was posted in the comments, so I want to bring it out to the front page so everyone can get a chance to read it. This memoir of Nevada Days past is from guest contributor Sam Broyles.

Nevada Day Memories

As a trombonist in the Carson City Jr and Sr High School marching (and symphony) bands from 1960-1966, my Fall schedule was predetermined to be one of marching - marching in cadence, marching while playing, marching in heat and cold, marching and disturbing the residents as we tromped through the western neighborhoods near the quonset hut high school, marching up Kings Canyon until our tongues were lolling and our throats were raw and we hated John Philip Souza, marching towards the perfection demanded by the Music Director all focused on our Nevada Day performance.

As the Day approached, we occupied ourselves in assembling and cleaning our uniforms; our shakos were fluffed and our shoes were polished, buttons were checked and belt buckles and medallions were brassoed, and our uniforms were dry cleaned and shiny blue; instruments were disassembled, cleaned, polished, reassembled and tuned. And then, we practiced and practiced and practiced the music so that even though we had music holders, even the first timers would know their music so thoroughly that they would avoid the piles of horse manure (and there was a lot of it) in the midstream playing of a demanding musical and synchronized step performance.

During the time that I was a band member, the CCHS band was considered to be one of the best in Nevada and when we set off down Carson Street, more often than not leading the parade) after waiting through an icy dawn, we swaggered as befit our status. We were the only band to play the entire length of Carson Street (the route was shorter then) and we were one of the few participating bands that would perform drills as we played, crisscrossing and shifting ranks to a precise pattern, making sure the tubas didn't collide with the drums. Although we played the oldie marches, we also introduced syncopated swing marches which were always crowd pleasers; our audience was always friendly and encouraging, and of course, one would always see familiar faces who would yell out greetings.

As the band approached the reviewing stand in front of the Supreme Court, in unison, we summoned our flagging energies, stood up straighter, concentrated on the piece we would play, and we delivered our best performance unit of the day (hopefully). Once past the reviewing stand and a few more blocks, we would stand down, case our instruments for transport back to the school to be used that afternoon at the football game, and then rush to Austin's Market to get water or soda. We'd wander back into the crowd to view the rest of the parade, silently jeering at our annual rivals, White Pine High School in Ely, a kick-ass band. We had a special affection for Sadie Grant who danced her grinning high step down the street either in front of or behind the band and would applaud her vigorously as she dipped and bowed.

Invariably, one would see a swarm of our band members descending on a corn dog stand or a fry bread and temporarily cleaning out their wares whilst prepping ourselves for late in life cardiac events. Eventually, as the parade dragged to an end and the crowds were dispersing, we would wend our way west to the high school band room where we would leave our hats, pick up our instruments, and discuss our previous performance while refreshing our upcoming performance.

When the time came, we filed from the band room and assembled in stadium procession, and then once again marched to our reserved seating where we would cheer on the football team as it invariably lost; the sun would sink behind C Hill and the stadium was cast in shadow, turning icy cold in an instant heralding winter. We had acquitted ourselves well once again (or not), another Nevada Day was over (darn!), and most fortuitously, the band would cease marching for the year and evolve into a symphony band and perform some serious music.

I always appreciated Nevada Day for another reason besides the festivities and the public acclaim and that appreciation stems from the dual nature of the holiday, aligning as it does with Halloween. Before I was diverted into more wholesome activities such as music, I was a sugar addict and Halloween fed my habit - I looked forward all year to the end of October. The swarms of children in small town Carson City would be good citizens on Oct 30th and go out trick or treating; on October 31st, those same swarms would become municipal outlaws and once again descend upon the neighborhoods with pillow case and grocery bags; often, we would lug our haul home and then go out again for another round. My fellow users and I would be set for the next few months as we assayed our diabetic futures.