“Water! Water!”

Virginia City had a water problem. You might not think that would be the case, considering that Bill Fairweather, Henry Cover, and their friends discovered gold right in Alder Creek on May 26, 1863. Within days a gold rush was on. A gold camp sprang up on its banks, and within a few months became a town.
The building boom and the gold rush, though, had competing interests in the water. Both brought in scores of people. Although they all came for the gold, they had opposite goals. Settlers built the town, and those who had brought their families made their homes there. Miners appear mostly to have wanted to dig the gold and take it home. Or they tried to, during the era of the Plummer Gang.
During 1863, few people appear to have thought about the necessity for clean water for drinking and cooking. (At least I haven’t found references to it in letters and diaries of the Montana Gold Rush.)
Early in 1864, however, a typhus epidemic struck. It was not generally known at the time that overcrowding, malnutrition, and foul water caused (and do cause) typhus. (In my novel God’s Thunderbolt: The Vigilantes of Montana, Martha McDowell and her friends Lydia Hudson and Berry Woman fight the typhus epidemic.)

God's Thunderbolt, 2009 Spur winnerl

God’s Thunderbolt, 2009 Spur winner

Nor did they generally know that the ultimate cause was explained by “germ theory,” now a central tenet of modern medicine.
Germ theory states that specific microscopic organisms too small to be seen with the naked eye invading and reproducing in humans and animals can cause disease. Although germs had long been suspected as the causes of disease, germ theory was as debatable in the nineteenth century as are the causes of climate change now. That changed after Louis Pasteur, the French microbiologist, proved it correct between 1860-1864 by identifying the cause (germs) of puerperal fever that killed so many women after childbirth.
The general public, including doctors, did not realize that bites from fleas, mites (chiggers), lice, and ticks transmit typhus bacteria. Or that unclean medical implements carry the germs, too. Symptoms of typhus include fever of 102˚or higher, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea.
Other causes allow the disease to spread: overcrowding, poor diet, poor sanitation, and crowding. Those same conditions exist in war, and in areas of poverty.
And they existed in the Alder Gulch mining camps.
By the summer of 1864, an estimated 20,000 people lived in the “14-mile city” along Alder Creek, the primary stream, and along its tributary creeks, such as Daylight Creek that flows through Virginia City into Alder Creek.
The pressure on these sources of water must have been intense. Between the height of spring run-off and low water in the later summer and fall, miners claimed the water as their own.
Then came The Montana Post. It began publication on August 27, 1864, under the ownership of John Buchanan (no relation), who had brought his printing press to Virginia City. The September 8, 1864, issue announced the change of ownership and a new editorial direction – toward the Union. Daniel Webster Tilton had bought the paper and very soon installed Thomas J. Dimsdale as editor.
After publishing a puff piece about Virginia City on September 17 that mentioned “water good and wholesome” as one of the city’s attractive features, Dimsdale apparently changed his mind. Also, during this time, a group of men formed a water company and began to dig a ditch for laying pipes from a spring about a mile and a half up in the mountains.
On October 15, 1864, Dimsdale wrote an article headlined simply “The Waterworks.”
“Good water, and plenty of it, is a necessity as well as a luxury, and the most unthinking will prefer water conveyed in pipes, to the same fluid mixed with all the various and horrible impurities that the most casual inspection cannot fail to detect in the branch which is the main source of supply to the inhabitants of Virginia City.” (p. 2)
He continued, “The works are progressing rapidly. Four augers are at work boring the logs, and the ditch will be ere long completed. There seems to be a prejudice on the part of some of the miners against the undertaking, but a little reflection will … show it to be groundless….”
Miners considered that they owned the water in the streams, and said so plainly in the “Fairweather Mining District Laws,” which Dimsdale printed in the Post, October 22, 1864.
“Section 16: The water in any creek or gulch shall belong exclusively to the miners of the creek or gulch.”
If that weren’t strong enough, the miners backed up their claim to possession in Section 18:
“The interest of the holder or holders, of any creek or gulch claim is hereby declared to be a chattle (sic) interest, consisting of the right to the possession of the land and the water thereupon, inseparable and indivisible except by the consent of the party or parties in interest, made in due form of law, and then only to such an extent, as shall not impair or infringe the rights of others.”***
And finally, Section 19:
“No person, or persons or company shall have the right by pre-emption, or otherwise to claim and hold an exclusive right or privilege in or to any portion of the water in any creek or gulch in the district, except as herein provided, and any ditch, pipe, channel flume or other means of conveyance … which may hereafter be made by which the water in any creek or gulch in the district shall be diverted from its original channel … without leaving in the creek or gulch the quantity of water belonging to each claim, is hereby declared to be a public nuisance….”****
Dimsdale also came down hard on the necessity of water to put out fires “in our town of wood,” as he wrote on November 12, 1864.
“Without this (water) being on hand in quantity, buckets are about as useful as thimbles to thirsty men.” He goes on to advocate several other modes of dousing fires, all of which sound not much more useful than buckets, but would only work even marginally if the water source were not close by.***** (p. 2)
The Montana Territorial Legislative Assembly would not meet until December 12, 1864, and there were no laws in effect in the territory. Created on May 26, 1864, from Idaho and Dakota Territories, Montana had no laws of its own because Congress did not stipulate that Idaho law passed down to Montana Territory. The only effective law in the Territory that pertained to the Alder Gulch region was this mining code.
Nonetheless, the water company pressed on.
In a lengthy article on November 19, Dimsdale reported, “The water is now brought close to the Shakespeare restaurant on Idaho Street.”
He describes the necessity for good water as a public health measure:
“We are firmly of opinion that more than half of the sickness in this town is traceable to carelessness in the selection of water for drinking and culinary purposes. Any person may satisfy himself of the correctness of our ideas on the subject, who will take a walk around the town and examine the condition of the pools and streams from which a large number of our citizens are in the habit of obtaining their daily supply. The water is not in a condition for any human being to drink. Regard to health being thrown out of the account, pleasure and taste must be both out-voted, or no one could think of imbibing the turbid and impure element.”
On November 26, he reported,
“The pipes for the supply of water are now being laid in Main street, and another week’s labor will see the whole city supplied. Any one wishing to have the water conducted into his or her house, can have it done by applying to the proprietors of the water works.”
The cost for having water brought into one’s house was $2.00 per month, which Dimsdale considered reasonable, although a high wage for the time was $30 per month.
In addition, he noted that having an adequate water supply in town would be a benefit in case of fire.
The miners did not give up. They petitioned the legislature on December 10 to grant no charter to the water company. Dimsdale lapsed into editorializing when he wrote,
“…the opponents … are actuated by a desire to run their own grindstone at the expense of the health of the entire body of the citizens.” (Montana Post, December 10, 1864)
The petition failed, and Virginia City soon had a water company.
In March I’ll publish part 2, of this “Water” story. In 1890 a remarkable person became owner and manager of the Virginia City Water Company.
*“Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink.” So goes a famous line from Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner, published in 1789 as one of the Lyrical Ballads, which changed English literary history.

**The tree line in that high desert country is the reverse of what it is in wetter places. In a desert country, trees do not grow on hillsides lower than a few thousand feet above sea level, where they can get enough moisture. The trees around Virginia City are of the shorter varieties, juniper. Hardly trees at all (at least compared to the towering pines at higher elevations).

***Chattel (not chattle) property is any property, whether movable or immovable, except real estate and the buildings on it. (Its use in this context separates a mining claim form real estate. Later on, a dispute arose in the Legislature over whether or not to consider claims as real estate. The implications of that aren’t clear to me. Yet.)

****Pre-emption is the right of ownership to a piece of land by virtue of being the first to claim it. After the Civil War, and into the 20th century, people often moved onto a piece of land and build shacks or houses on it, claiming ownership to it by right of pre-emption, or being the first to live on it. Many of them later filed for ownership on the land as theirs under the Homestead Act of 1862, and the courts in the local areas upheld their claims. (It’s now spelled preemption.)

*****Those of you who are acquainted with Virginia City, can imagine putting out a fire anywhere above Wallace or Idaho streets along Jackson or Van Buren streets. Picture passing buckets up the hill from either Daylight creek or Alder creek. By the time the first bucket had reached the fire, the building might well have burned to the ground.

Making Cosmic Decisions

I missed church a couple of weeks ago, so just this afternoon I thought I’d read the sermon for that Sunday on the church website.
I don’t know why I decided to do that at 1:15 p.m. on February 8, 2018, except that I’ve been struggling with how to write a simple mission statement for a turn I’ve made with my books. (The first book in that turn is Brother Joel Begs Forgiveness, which I brought out on January 5.)

Brother Joel Begs Forgiveness

Brother Joel Begs Forgiveness

It’s not a very abrupt turn, more 45 degrees rather than 180, but it’s significant to me, to my writing, and to my readers.
You don’t need to follow the entire chain of thought that began last September, do you? Following it is too convoluted even for me, but the bottom line is this:
The greatest battlefields in this life are not those where armies clash by night on the dark plains, or squeeze nuclear triggers. It’s the battlefield in our heads, in our minds.
Because it’s there that the Enemy does battle with God for supremacy over our thinking.
Every decision we make is part of that battle. In our minds wars start. We decide to take revenge for a wrong we’ve suffered, and the Enemy, the Lord of the Flies, Beelzebub himself, cackles with glee. We decide to work at forgiving the wrong, and Beelzebub slinks off in defeat. Until the next decision.
The writer of the sermon I read put it so well: “The decisions you make are cosmic. For better or worse, they will affect and ripple through the generations that follow you. Your life is not yours alone. It belongs to God, those around you, those who follow you.”
My books have always been about people making decisions that risk their souls in order to save those around them. It’s how I see the Montana Vigilantes in 1863-1865, it’s how I see Joel Van Fleet (who becomes “Brother Joel”) and it’s how I regard Lou, the widow in Lou and Willy which I’m writing now.
If Lou had not decided in 1900 to leave the slums of St. Louis to homestead on the Milk River near Malta, Montana, her younger son would not have grown up to become my father. Very simply, without Lou’s decision, I would not be.
And you would not be reading this blog.
Cosmic decision, indeed, wouldn’t you agree?

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

We’ve a cold snap or two this winter, and it made me think of how our forbears endured winter in Montana’s Gold Country during the Vigilante era. When you step into a nice hot shower on a frigid morning, think of them.

If you’ve read the books in my “Vigilante Quartet,” you’ll find the people breaking the ice on the water buckets in order to get a drink of water at night. Washing in the morning was usually confined to faces and behind the ears because they had to find water and tote it home in buckets. Many people drank the water from the creeks, and used it to wash themselves and their clothes. Dan Stark, the hero in my four novels, has dug his own well, but to have water in the house he pumps it out of the ground and carries it into the house. Once the water is in the house, his wife Martha, boils it to be sure it’s clean.

Men either shaved in icy water or they heated it on a fire or stove before shaving. They coated their faces with lather from soap, or special shaving soap – if they could find any, or if they could afford it.

People recycled water. They had a system of buckets for clean water, once-used (gray) water, and slops. Slop buckets were emptied anywhere in the yard, as were the gray water buckets when they grew too dirty.

Winters were colder then, started earlier in the year, and lasted longer. The stories you’ve heard about sewing children into their long underwear for the winter may have been true in many cases, but the sad fact is that before central heating, the only warm spot in a room was in front of the fireplace or the stove. If you faced the heat source, your back was cold. If you turned your back to the heat, your front was cold.
It took a brave person to take a complete bath when the outside temperature hovered around thirty-below. Or colder. Mercury freezes at -37.894 F and -38.83 Celsius. Accounts of life in Gold Country during the winters of 1862 through 1865 often refer to mercury freezing in the thermometers, so people did not really know how cold it was.

The old Christmas poem, “’Twas the Night Before Christmas,” refers to “Ma in her kerchief and I in my cap.” People covered their heads at night, and often slept with bed socks on, too.

Parents of small children rose several times in the night to be certain the little ones had not come uncovered, and it was not unusual for babies to sleep between their parents for warmth before they moved to a bed with their older siblings. Again, stories you might read or hear about children sleeping 8 to a bed arose from the need to keep warm.

One very brave woman, Anna Gould Hough, was married to the Rev. Asahel Hough, the first Methodist missionary to Montana. A story about her reveals her determination and courage. When the Methodist bishops offered her husband an opportunity to carry Christianity to Montana Territory, they told Rev. Hough he could not bring his wife with him. The region was considered no place for a decent woman, and in fact, the bishops said, “There are no decent women in that place.” *

When she heard that, Mrs. Hough replied, “Then it is high time there was one.” She refused to be separated from her husband.

The men had no choice but to yield.

The Houghs founded a Methodist congregation in Virginia City and built the Methodist church at the foot of Jackson Street. The cold winters defeated Mrs. Hough, though, and her health broke. She developed a “pleurisy of the ear.” (Pleurisy is an inflammation of the pleura, the lining of the chest cavity and the lining around the lungs that makes breathing painful and difficult.) Her hearing was damaged, and her general health was affected so that after four years, the Houghs moved to Los Angeles, where he helped to found a Methodist college now known as the University of Southern California. Mrs. Hough (1829-1919) was an older sister of Jay Gould (1836 – 1892), known as “the robber baron’s robber baron.” He was also very generous to his sisters and brother, however, and helped them and their families financially whenever they needed it.

*Had they known about that remark, Mary (Mrs. Sidney) Edgerton and her nieces, Harriet (Mrs. Wilbur) Sanders and Lucia Darling, would have been insulted.