Books: Reno

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"I own millions and millions of feet of affluent leads in Nevada, in
fact the entire under crust of that country nearly, and if Congress
would move that State off my property so that I could get at it, I
would be wealthy yet. But no, there she squats--and here am I. Failing
health persuades me to sell. If you know of anyone desiring a
permanent investment I can furnish one that will have the virtue of
being eternal."

I think "Roughing It" was written about 1851.

If you knew Senator Huskey as I do, you would agree with me that the
Senator is indeed Huskey by name and "husky" by nature. A more
complete parcel of huskiness you never did see, nor a jollier, more
cordial and better hearted could you ever wish to meet, for he has
never allowed the musty parchment to dry up the finer faculties of his
sentiments, and he can appreciate a beautiful sunset, a fine verse,
and in fact all Nature's beauties, and yet be the big man and the
great lawyer he is.

Then too, the Senator is an enthusiastic sportsman and plays a
splendid game of hand-ball. I have known him, for hours on end, to
pound at the ball at the Y.M.C.A. as if his very life depended upon
whether he had hit it a hundred or a thousand times in an afternoon;
as if he would be shot at sunrise if he fell below the mark. But in
college days, his strength ran to his feet. He was known as a powerful
kicker, and woe betide the man who would try and act as a buffer
between his feet and the ball.

And now let me tell you about the Senator's early life. He started his
career on the farm, for his father was a school teacher, and you will
agree that--a family of fourteen is a rather expensive kind of brood
to rear. And so, some of those fourteen chicks had to hustle and fence
for themselves as soon as they could. Among the little Huskeys was
Walter. It is thus he graphically describes some of his reminiscences:

"I was a cracker jack at cutting corn. Father and brothers could beat
me at husking, but somehow or other I was good at cutting. And some
days I could cut as high as twenty-six shock in a half day. Finally I
had accumulated a little fund and decided to brace myself for a talk
with the college professor in charge. I was the greenest thing you
ever saw, and they called me 'Lengthy,' for at that time I weighed
only one hundred and thirty pounds."

The title of "Senator" has since done its historical duty, for the
once "bony laddie" now turns the scales at 250 pounds.....

After that, the college professor paid young Huskey's parents a
surprise visit, as a result of which we find the boy at work at a
preparatory course in the Wesleyan University, Kansas. Within two
years, through assiduous perseverance and keen enthusiasm for his
work, he was able to teach in the country districts. For a decade he
taught the younger generations how to shoot, and thus eked out a
fairly moderate living, for the pay was not staggering by any means,
nor was it like Huskey to forget the folks at home.

In La Porte, Texas, whither by this time he had wandered, they offered
him the principalship of the High School. "They gave me," I heard him
say one day, "one hundred dollars a month, and I thought it was the
biggest salary in the world."

[Illustration: Senator H. Walter Huskey]

Then he realized that it was almost impossible to convert a mint of
knowledge into a mint of money, even as a principal, so he struck out
vigorously for law, took a special course at Stanford University and
received second highest honors. Shortly after he landed in the "big
little city" of Reno and entered into partnership with Charles R.
Lewers, who had strangely enough been His professor at Stanford
University and who evidently held his erstwhile pupil in very high
esteem, in thus throwing in his lot with him.

In 1906 Huskey was elected by the Assembly of Nevada, and in 1914 by a
very flattering majority was sent up as State Senator for Washoe
County. As a law maker, he had proven his worth on more than one
occasion, for not only is he a Senator with a brain, but also a man
with a heart. The passing of the Employers' Liability Act was due
directly to the Senator's spirited persistence. He lost the Southern
Pacific contracts through it, but he did not care.

One of the real romances of the divorce world is the Senator's second
marriage, and the present Mrs. Huskey is exceedingly charming and
interesting, and a splendid horse woman.

An amusing incident is told of a little political difference of
opinion between the Senator and the suffragettes about a remark which
this worthy gentleman let forth in an unguarded moment. You should
have seen the sparks fly and the fire flame up! In fact, it gave me
considerable pleasure to be able to announce at the moment of writing
that Senator Huskey's golden crop of curls was not singed beyond
recognition and that his eyes were still steel blue and not black.
This is how the conflagration started:

At a conference in Carson City between the City Council and the Washoe
delegation, the Senator, who put in a rather tardy appearance, is
reported to have said to the other members: "All the ladies who came
to Carson on The Cat Special' are waiting for you upstairs. I'm going
to a show. Anything you do is all right for me."

Miss Anne Martin, the president of the Women's League, did her best to
put a favorable interpretation upon this very questionable term of
endearment by saying that probably the Senator meant that they were as
undrownable as cats, who are reputed to have nine lives, and that this
persistence was getting what they wanted. That was all very well for
the "mild" cats, but the spit-fiery ones were not so easily satisfied.
One of them sent him a letter addressed, "Mr. H. W. Meow Huskey,
Senate Chamber, Carson City." Others still more vindictive pasted a
picture of a large tomcat, hunched of back and bristling of hair,
right next to the Senator's campaign picture which already decorated
the middle of the Truckee. Under it was written as large as life, "THE
HUSKEY TOMCAT." Needless to say the whole town of Reno turned out the
next day to enjoy the joke, and among them was the Senator, who
enjoyed it as much as anyone.

There is a strong rumor abroad that the Senator is to be a likely
candidate for Governor: I certainly wish him every success. If a
comprehensive knowledge of the law, a vigorous prosecution of the
principles of Justice and a big heart are attributes that count, then
the Senator stands the greatest chance to win the fight.

Maurice Joseph Sullivan, Lieut.-Governor: No mining, no teaching, no
law! This sketch is of a thoroughbred business man, who after
graduating from the Polytechnic High School in San Francisco, joined a
large wholesale hardware firm as a start in his career. Here he got
some pretty "hard wear": those preliminary knocks that rub off all the
rough edges and take with them some of the glamour of life.....
However, Maurice Sullivan didn't have as many rough edges as most
young fellows. He was good looking, popular and unspoilt--a phenomenon
rarely come upon--and being ambitious it was not long before he had
set up in Goldfield under the style of the Wood-Sullivan Hardware Co.,
selling hardware with lightning rapidity, just as if it were the
easiest ware in the world to dispose of.

Then one fine day Sullivan developed into a full-blown philanthropist.
Each little baby visitor born into the camp of Goldfield was donated a
big silver dollar, by way of encouragement to stay. And they surely
did stay, those "Dollar Babies."

In 1914 he was elected to the Lieutenant-Governorship, and an amusing
anecdote is told of how he became "peeved" when he discovered that
several of the house members were playing "hookey" in order to avoid
voting on a bill, and sent the State police after them. How many of
the culprits were collared and brought back I was not told, but I am
inclined to think that it was the good round figure "nought," for the
bill was scratched and the Lieut.-Governor fumed in vain.

Mr. Sullivan was Lieut.-Governor during my stay in Nevada.

Senator Morehouse.... One does not often in a lifetime meet a person
born on April Fool's Day, and, usually when one happens to come across
such a butt for mirth he will probably try to pass it off by telling
you that the day of his birth is the last day of March, or something
similar. I have known scores of people born on the 28th or even the
29th of February, but Senator Morehouse is the first one I have met
who has the courage to face the world, and boldly announce the fact
that he is an April Fool's child. But then, the joke is on the
original April Fool, for the Senator has fooled him by being one of
the brightest men of the State, and certainly its most gifted orator--
the Demosthenes of Nevada, in fact. Surely a true son of April Fool
should stutter and stumble, and stammer and shy in the most pitiful
manner. Well, anyway, the Senator can always have the consolation that
he has "put one over" on Father April Fool.

Way back, in the days of "Mobile Bay", young Harry Morehouse, then
only a lad of seventeen, fought for his side until he could fight no
more. Then the Sisters of Mercy had to mend the ravages of that
unnatural fight, and for seven months Harry had a little holiday lying
on his back. No sooner recovered, the rover spirit seized his feet and
round he came to California, by way of the Isthmus, where he acted as
"a sort of reporter," until he had eked out enough knowledge to teach
in the grade school. Thence he started on the law path, from which he
emerged most triumphantly, and after practicing in California struck
out Renowards in 1913, where he was associated with the late Judge
James G. Sweeney, who but recently passed away.

By nature the Senator is mild and gentle, and always ready to lend a
helping hand to a fellow traveller. I have had the pleasure of meeting
him in private life, and have always felt impressed with those perfect
manners, that pleasant voice and those kindly words. Although one of
the newer Sons of the Sagebrush, he is surely one of the most
acceptable.

Governor Emmet D. Boyle has the distinction of being the youngest
governor into whose hands Nevada ever thought it safe to entrust her
well-being. He is none of your gray-beards, stolid of thought and
sluggish of action, but a young politician (his real profession is
mining engineering) with a wealth of experience, and plenty of good
common "horse sense."

His mother was a literary woman, and from her he learned to find a
friend in books. As for his father, he was one of the most prominent
mining men of the Comstock, and as a lad the governor-to-be had
already acquired an extensive knowledge of mining, surveying, assaying
and milling.

At sixteen he joined the University and became a member of that most
select of fraternities, with that weird-sounding name, Phi Kappa
Kappa. He had specialized in mining at college, and upon graduation
left the State, and engaged in several mining enterprises in British
Columbia and Mexico. Then when his father passed away, he returned to
Nevada and was offered a position as State Engineer.

In 1915 he was made Nevada's Tax Commissioner and he traveled the
State far and wide, gaining both fame and popularity.

At college the Governor had distinguished himself considerably in the
sporting arena, and he was known to be a particularly strong man when
it came to kicking the ball.

"Once a sport, always a sport!" If this spirit does not have the
opportunity to show itself in active practice on the field of sport,
it will nevertheless make itself felt in one's relations with men on
the field of life, and so we have in Emmet D. Boyle a practical man
with a vast knowledge about Nevada's foremost sources of success, with
a true appreciation of the booklore of our ancestors, a keen eye and
the love of fair play of the true sportsman.

[Illustration: Governor Emmett D. Boyle Of Nevada]

That he has a kind and humane heart can be judged from the fact that
it was he who was responsible for the re-introducing of the six months
residence law. Why should two people be forced to live together in
distrust and misery any longer than was absolutely necessary? And so
he worked as best he could to shorten that time, as much as the
statute would permit. He succeeded, and thanks to him, several people
have had their happiness given back to them.....

I had the honor to meet the Governor on a number of occasions and
always found him so simple and unassuming that I could hardly realize
I was conversing with the man holding the highest position in the
State, as if I had known him for years.

The leading man of the State should have a charming wife! The Capitol
would indeed be a desolate place without a hostess to entertain the
Governor's colleagues, and apparently Governor Boyle has made a
remarkably good choice in Miss Veda McClure, for she is extremely
popular and takes a great interest in the Red Cross work, which is
making such splendid strides all over the State.

Let me here relate to you a most amusing incident which occurred to
the Governor some little time ago.

It was a State function and the dinner was scheduled for eight o'clock
sharp; but it was not on time, and you shall hear why. At a quarter to
eight, when his dress suit had not yet put in an appearance from the
tailor's, the Governor sent a search party after it and waited, as
patiently as circumstances would permit, for the delinquent "fine
feathers" to blow in. By eight, he was a little more than uneasy, but
it didn't help any. Suddenly, on the domestic horizon appeared a
weird-looking creature! A human being, apparently in a state of frenzy
over some terrible catastrophe. It was the tailor! "Here," he
whispered, almost in tears, as he handed something to the outraged
head of the State, "these ain't yours, but you'll have to wear 'em;
yours someone else is wearing."

[Illustration: Governor's at Carson City]

And he wore them.... But, the tale runs, the Governor looked----He
certainly did establish a precedent at that dinner. Mockers say that
Judge Pat McCarran ran a close second, because his Excellency is lean
and lank, while Judge McCarran would make two of him one way, and
almost half of him the other, and because what happened to Governor
Boyle had also happened to Judge McCarran that very night.

Fred, de Longchamps... As a youngster, when playing amongst the
rabbits and brush on the south side of the river Truckee, Fred, de
Longchamps, like most youngsters, built many a castle in the air.
Later, those castles descended literally from the air to the earth,
for little Fred became a great architect, and now I am not surprised
when I think how often I have admired those beautiful villas, which
are strewn in such profusion all over Reno.

When at Reno University, de Longchamps did the pen and ink work and
other illustrating for the "Artemesai," the University publication.
Mining, too, seemed to have a certain fascination for him, and in
addition to his course in building, he gained considerable experience
in mining operations. Then came the toss-up. Mining won, but wasn't
strong enough to hold out, and thereupon, behold him returned to his
old love.

Do you see that fine modern looking structure over yonder? It is the
Court House, without which Reno would not be Reno, and it was Mr.
Fred, de Longchamps who conceived and built it. The Y. M. C. A.
Building, The Nixon Bank Building, all these and more, are the
splendid achievements of this brilliant young architect, who has
helped in such a great measure to make the City of Reno as attractive
as it is.

It might also interest you to know that the Nevada Buildings at the
San Francisco Exposition were erected "on the originality" of Fred, de
Longchamps, and though their cost was comparatively small, they
compared favorably with any State buildings on the grounds.

Senator Nixon.... Although a native of Texas, Senator Nixon's life is
essentially a Nevada Romance. He started on his career as a simple
telegraph operator, and then migrated with all the Nevada immigrants
in the boomy days of the goldfields. It wasn't exactly "open Sesame"
and then a fortune. It was perseverance that "did the trick." But it
made a mighty good job of it, for at the time of his decease in 1912,
the Senator was worth several millions, and his beautiful residence
situated at the top of a hill on the outskirts of Reno is said to have
cost no less than $200,000. It does seem a pity, however, that as soon
as a moderate sum of wealth is accumulated-with but few exceptions-
there is a hankering to desert the State of Nevada in favor of some
more populated, but surely not sunnier clime. And so young Nixon took
his father's millions to the adjoining State of California, and Nevada
knows not of them.

Often I have felt that there was an analogy to the generous, self-
sacrificing Mother Earth who gives all of her life and energy to
nourish her sons, and who in reward receives little but slights and
neglect.

Frank Golden..... While writing of the Sons of the Sagebrush, we must
not forget Frank Golden, Jr., who is a native son of Nevada, and one
of the youngest hotel managers in the West, having become manager of
the Golden Hotel at Reno when he was about nineteen. Mr. Golden's
father built the Golden Hotel in 1901. He died in 1911, at which time
the management was taken over by his son. The hotel was burned down in
1916 and reconstructed under the supervision of Frank, Jr., with the
result that it is now perhaps the most beautifully equipped, best run
and most modern European hotel in Reno, or in the State of Nevada, for
that matter.

Apart from being one of the youngest hotel managers in the West, he is
also one of the most popular.

Frank Golden was among the first to answer his country's call and
served in France.

[Illustration: Frank Golden, Jr.]

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