In the nineteenth century, events in California made good copy for the eastern press, which sent a number of notable journalists to write dispatches from the west coast. But almost as interesting as California's unfolding history and astonishing landscape was the way folks traveled here.
A reporter for the New York Herald, Waterman L. Ormsby climbed aboard the first running of the Butterfield Overland Mail, a twenty-five day journey from St. Louis to California. Here the stage travels through Pacheco Pass.
The driver seemed to enjoy the fun, and invited me up to ride with him on the box. I got up, taking off my hat and throwing a blanket over my head; I held on tight as we dashed along—up and down, around the curves, and in straight lines, all at the same railroad speed. The loosening of a nut, the breaking of a strap, the shying of one of the four spirited horses, might—indeed would—have sent us all to "kingdom come," without a chance for saying prayers. But just as I made such a reflection, crack went the whip and away we flew, at a rate which I know would have made old John Butterfield, the president of the mail company, and a very experienced stage man, wish himself safely at home. For my part, I held on to the seat and held my breath, hoping we might get through safe. If I thought I was destined to be killed in a stagecoach I most certainly should have considered my time come.
We ran twelve miles in an hour and five minutes, and, considering the ups and downs, I thought it pretty good traveling. . . .
Ormsby was the only one—passenger or driver—to travel the entire 2,800 mile route.
below to hear radio segment.
