The Old Stage Drivers
By Charles Carroll Goodwin in 1913
The American West, in its burgeoning years, was a land sculpted by ambition, opportunity, and relentless expansion. Connecting distant settlements, traversing treacherous terrains, and bridging the gap between civilization and the untamed wilderness were the stagecoaches. And at the reins of these vital arteries of commerce and communication were the stage drivers, men of grit, skill, and a certain legendary flair. Much like the revered camel drivers of the East, these individuals were more than mere transportation providers; they were characters forged in the crucible of the frontier, etched into the very fabric of the American West.
The era of the stagecoach, particularly in states like California and Nevada, was a vibrant tapestry woven with tales of daring feats, colorful personalities, and the constant struggle against the elements. Marysville, California, emerged as a prominent hub for the California Stage Company, a place where the art of staging reached its zenith. The daily ritual in Marysville was a symphony of activity, a testament to the stagecoach’s significance in the region. As dawn broke, the town awakened to the resounding calls of the criers, their voices echoing through the streets, announcing the departure of coaches to various destinations.
"Empire Ranch, Rough and Ready, Grass Valley, and Nevada!" they would proclaim, followed by the itineraries for "Oregon Ranch, Camptonville, Downieville," "Oroville, Forbestown, and Moore’s Flat," and the long hauls to "Tehama, Red Bluff, Shasta, and Yreka." And punctuating these calls, a baritone voice would resound with "Sacramento, Sacramento," a constant reminder of the vital link to the state’s capital. These calls were the overture to a day filled with the rumble of wheels, the thundering of hooves, and the stories that would forever be associated with the stagecoach era. The old stage drivers were an integral part of this exciting time.
The stables would then come alive with activity, as magnificent horses, having spent the previous months grazing and growing stronger on the plains, were brought in, groomed, and fed. These were not ordinary horses; they were the engine of the West, bred for endurance and speed. The most impressive of these were the teams pulling the great Troy coaches, capable of carrying up to 27 passengers. These behemoths of the road had the right-of-way, their arrival and departure marking the rhythm of life in these bustling stagecoach towns. The old stage drivers were the masters of these magnificent beasts.
The men who commanded these teams were figures of respect and admiration. "Big John" Littlefield and "Big Jake" Putnam, were among the earliest drivers on the Sacramento route, alternating days at the reins of the Troy coaches. Later, Oscar Ross joined their ranks, but his career was cut short in a violent confrontation with an opposition coach, highlighting the fierce competition and the ever-present dangers of the profession. The old stage drivers were not just drivers; they were also competitors.
The story of Big John Littlefield is a cautionary tale. After a drunken accident resulted in a damaged coach and a bruised passenger, he was dismissed from the Sacramento route and relegated to a four-horse coach on the Camptonville line. A subsequent mishap, caused by his inebriated state, led to his termination, delivered with a cold, formal statement: "Mr. Littlefield, President Hayworth has instructed me to inform you that your salary has stopped." Littlefield’s defiant response, a colorful refusal to drive, underscores the pride and independent spirit of these men. The old stage drivers were known for their strong will and determination.
Robert and Dan Robins, twins known as "Curly Bob" and "Curly Dan" due to their curly hair, were renowned drivers on the Shasta stages. As the railroad encroached upon their territory, they adapted, moving to the Overland and branch lines. Unlike many of their peers, they were described as being devoid of "wild strata," suggesting a more disciplined and refined character. Their later years saw them pass away in Idaho and Salt Lake City, respectively, marking the gradual fading of the stagecoach era. The old stage drivers were diverse in their personalities and backgrounds.
Baldy Green was another prominent figure, an experienced California driver who spent years piloting the Overland route between Virginia City and Austin. His later role as a Justice of the Peace in Humboldt County, despite his limited legal knowledge, speaks to the practical wisdom and "horse sense" that these men possessed. It suggests that their understanding of human nature, honed on the open road, was as valuable as any formal education.
Perhaps the most famous of all was Hank Monk. His name became synonymous with daring feats of driving, particularly his legendary encounter with Horace Greeley. The story, often embellished with each retelling, involves Greeley’s impatience and Monk’s unwavering commitment to delivering him to his lecture on time. Regardless of the specific details, the tale cemented Monk’s reputation as a fearless and supremely skilled driver. Monk’s ability to navigate treacherous terrain at breakneck speed, while ensuring the safety of his passengers, was a testament to his mastery of the craft. He could control a team of horses with such precision that he could execute seemingly impossible maneuvers.
His understanding of the physics of motion was remarkable. As he once explained, "When you strike a level grade, ride your brake and let the stock go, but when you turn a curve, take off your brake and give the wheels full play because to ride a brake around a curve when going lively might make you trouble." This simple advice reveals a deep understanding of the forces at play when driving a stagecoach at high speed.
Monk’s wit and intelligence were also notable. His humorous interactions with passengers, like the anecdote involving the "way-bill," showcase his quick thinking and sharp sense of humor. Even in his interactions with a fidgety woman concerned about her trunk being sawed in half, he maintains his droll persona. His ultimate demise, caused by a rare stagecoach accident, was said to be due to the humiliation he felt, highlighting the immense pride these men took in their abilities.
The discovery of the Comstock Lode marked a golden age for stagecoaches and stage drivers. Coaches became more luxurious, horses were adorned with elaborate decorations, and competition between rival lines, such as the California Stage Company and Wells Fargo & Company, intensified. Among the elite drivers of this era were John Burnett, nicknamed "Sage Brush," William Gephardt ("Curly Bill"), and Charlie Livermore.
Sage Brush was a legend in his own right, a master of the reins who had a mysterious past. His arrival in Sacramento, travel-worn and unassuming, belied his extraordinary abilities. His laconic responses to Grant Israel’s questions about his driving experience only added to his mystique. His handling of a particularly unruly team of horses on his first assignment was nothing short of miraculous, earning him the respect of his colleagues and solidifying his reputation as a top-tier driver.
Curly Bill, while not as skilled a reinsman as Sage Brush, possessed immense physical strength. His intervention on behalf of a female passenger being harassed by a drunken army officer demonstrated his courage and unwavering sense of justice. He was willing to confront anyone, regardless of their rank or status, to protect the vulnerable. His later career as a livery stable owner in Virginia City and San Francisco suggests a successful transition from the stagecoach era to a new chapter in his life.
The contrasting fates of Sage Brush and Curly Bill highlight the unpredictable nature of life in the West. Sage Brush’s tragic end, driven by a personal crisis, stands in stark contrast to Curly Bill’s relatively prosperous later years. Charlie Livermore, another prominent driver, also experienced hardship, losing everything but a single ivory ring, a memento of his stagecoach days. His experience driving wild mules in Arizona, a far cry from the well-groomed teams of the Comstock era, underscores the challenges and uncertainties faced by these men as the stagecoach era waned.
Big Jake, after leaving the stagecoach business, found success as a faro banker in Virginia City. His annual tradition of taking children on sleigh rides reflects a softer side to a man who had once commanded powerful teams of horses across the rugged terrain of the West.
The old stage drivers were more than just drivers; they were symbols of an era, embodiments of the spirit of the American West. They faced danger, hardship, and uncertainty with courage, skill, and a touch of legendary flair. Their stories, though fading with time, remain a testament to their vital role in shaping the landscape and connecting the communities of the American West. Their era has passed, and, according to the author, the world will never see their like again. The old stage drivers are gone, but their legacy remains.