Across the Continent by the Lincoln Highway

by Effie Price Gladding

Reno is a pleasant town, nobly situated on a high plateau with lofty mountains towering near. The Truckee River flows straight down from the heart of the snows through the center of the town and is spanned by a handsome bridge. The substantial Riverside Hotel stands on the bank of the river near the bridge. Somehow my impressions of Reno all seem to cluster around the swift river and the bridge. The library, the hotel, the Y. M. C. A., and other public buildings are close to the river. If you walk up the river you come to a little island in the center of the rushing stream which is a tiny Coney Island for the Reno residents during the summer. Bridges are flung from bank to island on both sides of the river. High above the river rise the houses of the well-to-do people of the town, some of them handsome structures. At the little hairdresser's where I had a shampoo in the delicious soft snow water of the river they pointed out to me the home of "our millionaire." So I crossed the river and went over and up to the higher side of the town, where was a very beautiful stucco mansion surrounded by wide lawns, with a view over the river on one side and off to the mountains on the other. It was a charming situation, and its charm was enhanced for me by the fact that just a short distance away, outside the town, began the grey-green desert with its sage brush whose pungent, aromatic odor was to be in my nostrils for so many days to come. I asked my hairdresser whether Reno had many people in residence waiting for their divorces. She said that the new law, by virtue of which they must have a year's residence in Nevada, instead of the old period of six months, had cut down, so to speak, the business of divorces. She assured me that the Reno people deplored this as formerly the town was full of boarders and lodgers "doing time." I confess I was somewhat shocked by such a sordid point of view. I found myself looking quietly around the Riverside dining room to see whether I could pick out in the well filled room any candidates for divorce, and then I reflected that they were probably looking at me with the same query in their minds.

1. Crossing Mississippi at Clinton, Iowa. 2. Bridge near Reno.

At Reno we followed our rule of visiting university buildings. We had seen the famous State University and the equally famous Stanford University in California, and wished to continue our study of college buildings and of the general atmosphere of Western institutions. Unfortunately it was holiday time, but we were shown about most courteously by a young instructor. The Nevada State University buildings are modest and comparatively few in number, but in good taste. They have a fine situation on a high plateau, wind-swept and mountain-surrounded, at the edge of the town. Westerners call these lofty terraces, which drop down one below another in step fashion at the foot of the great mountains, benches.

We had seen the very noble School of Mines at the University of California, erected by Mrs. Hearst to her husband's memory. We were equally interested in the smaller but very pretty building erected by Mr. Clarence Mackay for the University of Nevada School of Mines. A striking statue of Mr. Mackay in his miner's dress and with his miner's pick, stands in front of the building and looks down the green lengths of the open campus.

Our guide told us that the attendance at the School of Mines varies annually with the fluctuations of mining fortunes. In good years when the mines are doing well, the University has between fifty and sixty students of mining engineering. In poor mining years the attendance drops off. He told us some interesting tales of the "good old days" when miners wore two shirts sewed together at the bottom, thus making a sort of bag, and helped themselves liberally to gold while in the diggings. He said that a miner had been known to pay a mine foreman a thousand dollars for the privilege of working in a rich corner of the mine, with the result that he would be able to make up the price of his privilege within two or three days. He explained that there was a general rule to the effect that a miner should not be stripped for examination except to his shirt; with possible exceptions if he were under very strong suspicion.

I was sorry to come away from Reno. I liked the little town, with the sound of the rushing river coming in at my hotel window, and the feeling of space and freedom that the high situation gave. Reno is 4500 feet above sea level.

From Reno we drove on to Fallon, a little town where we spent the night. I took my last look at the high Sierras as we drove across the grassy plains in leaving Reno. There they were, still snowy, towering above the town. We came along by the river, but left it later for a more or less hilly road across rather barren country. We stopped at a little roadside place where there was a small grocery next to a tiny dwelling, to ask for some luncheon. The groceryman was very dubious and non-committal and referred us to his wife. I had noticed that at our approach she fled to some improvised chicken coops back of the little dwelling. So I tracked her to her lair and found the poor little thing really standing at bay. She was a small woman, overshadowed by an immense Mexican straw hat. She said to me somewhat defiantly and almost tearfully that she couldn't possibly do another drop of work. She explained that she had the railroad men to care for when they came in from the road, and that she had two hundred chickens to look after. "I carry all the water for them myself," she said tearfully. I looked around at the hot, dusty little settlement, with no spear of grass, and felt sorry for her. I told her that we wouldn't for the world inconvenience her, whereat she softened and told me that if we would drive on to the next settlement we could get some luncheon. Which we did, and a very indifferent luncheon it was. However, it was spiced by an ardent conversation between T. and a railroad man on the foreign policy of the present Administration. A woman looks on at these encounters, into which men plunge without a moment's introduction or hesitation, and into which they throw themselves so earnestly, with admiration tinged with awe.