The names Maria Percival Robbins and James J. Robbins, though once part of a vibrant and eventful life, now rest in obscurity. Maria passed away quietly on January 9, 1893, at 65, followed by her husband, James, on September 19, 1898, at 76. Their final resting place in Holy Cross Cemetery in Colma, California, remains unmarked, a testament to a quiet end for figures who once commanded considerable attention.
This understated farewell stands in stark contrast to the lively controversies Maria, writing as the outspoken “lady correspondent” Mary Jane Simpson, ignited a quarter-century earlier in the bustling boomtown of Virginia City, Nevada. Her incisive reporting for the San Francisco Chronicle made her a figure of both admiration and scorn, leaving an indelible mark on the region’s history during the tumultuous Comstock Lode era.
Adding an unexpected layer to her legacy, a monument stands proudly in Virginia City’s historic Silver Terrace Cemeteries, not for the journalist herself, but for a remarkable mule who shared her provocative pseudonym. This peculiar dedication encapsulates the unique and often eccentric spirit of the Old West, where even an animal could achieve legendary status.
Maria Percival Robbins: The Fearless Journalist Behind Mary Jane Simpson
In the vibrant, sometimes volatile, environment of Virginia City during the peak of the *Comstock Lode*, a spectacular discovery of silver and gold veins on Mount Davidson’s eastern slopes, Mary Jane Simpson emerged as a powerful voice. The Comstock Lode fueled an unprecedented economic boom, transforming Virginia City into a bustling metropolis almost overnight, attracting fortune-seekers, laborers, and opportunists from across the globe.
From mid-June 1870 to early April 1871, her column, appearing under headings like “Virginia City” or “Virginia Gossip,” became a must-read in the San Francisco Chronicle. It was an era when female journalists, especially those tackling sensitive political and economic issues, were a rarity. Simpson’s willingness to speak her mind made her an anomaly and a sensation.
Her writings offered a fascinating kaleidoscope of Virginia City life. She reported on local theatre, critiqued ladies’ fashions, and recounted society events and personal gossip, providing a vivid snapshot of the social fabric. However, Mary Jane Simpson was far from a mere chronicler of social affairs. She delved into critical urban issues, addressing the devastation of city fires and the crucial need for reliable municipal water supplies, subjects that directly impacted the daily lives of residents.
Challenging the Mining Monarchy: The “Ring”
Perhaps her most impactful and controversial contributions concerned the economics and politics of the mines, a topic of paramount interest in a city built on silver and gold. Mary Jane Simpson fearlessly challenged what was known as the “Ring,” a powerful consortium of aggressive businessmen. Led by figures like William Ralston, the founder of the Bank of California, and William Sharon, a shrewd politician and financier, this group sought to monopolize mining operations and associated industries within the Comstock Lode.
Operating in the spirit of the *robber baron era*, these individuals employed often questionable tactics to consolidate wealth and power. Simpson meticulously exposed their methods, which included insider trading, where privileged information was used for personal gain; stock manipulation, artificially inflating or deflating stock prices; and creative accounting, obscuring true financial standings. Her reporting provided a rare glimpse into the darker side of frontier capitalism.
Simpson openly questioned the veracity of sudden, convenient news of new ore discoveries that often coincided with spikes in mining stock prices. She voiced strong sympathy for miners involved in labor disputes, particularly when proposals arose to reduce their wages and introduce cheaper Chinese labor. This stance was particularly contentious in an era marked by intense anti-Chinese sentiment and burgeoning labor movements.
Her political commentary was equally sharp. She accused Nevada Republicans of favoring the powerful Ring, aligning their interests with the wealthy elite rather than the common worker. Her exultation when the Democrats swept the 1870 elections underscored her alignment with populist sentiments and her belief in holding power accountable.
In a particularly damning column on December 11, 1870, titled “How the Stockholders of the Mines are Robbed,” Simpson offered a detailed exposé. She laid bare the endemic corruption and willful misrepresentation prevalent at every stage of the ore extraction and processing pipeline, from the mineshafts to the mills, painting a bleak picture of an industry rife with deceit.
Friend and Foe: The Public’s Reaction
Unsurprisingly, Mary Jane Simpson’s bold accusations and unflinching critiques earned her powerful enemies. The *Gold Hill Daily News*, a rival publication, launched a scathing attack on July 31, 1871, dismissing her columns as “many lying letters” based on flawed information from her husband. The newspaper sneered, claiming that if the *Chronicle* had not “got rid of its silly correspondent, ‘Mary Jane Simpson,'” it would have lost all its readers on the Comstock. This harsh criticism highlights the intense partisan nature of frontier journalism and the risks associated with challenging established powers.
However, Simpson was not without her champions. The San Francisco Chronicle, her own newspaper, staunchly defended her, publishing a supportive piece on November 23, 1870. They described her as “a thorn in the sides of the Nevada ‘Ring’ and its advisers,” noting that she seemed to relish the controversy, adding, “The people do.” This endorsement from her employer underscored her value as a circulation driver and a voice for the populace, demonstrating that her fearless journalism resonated deeply with a segment of the public weary of corruption.
James J. Robbins: A Man of Many Talents
Maria’s husband, James J. Robbins, was a remarkable figure in his own right, embodying the spirit of a true *Renaissance man* in 1860s and 1870s San Francisco. His career path was incredibly diverse, showcasing a wide range of talents and interests. He practiced as a lawyer, navigating the complex legal landscape of a rapidly growing city, and also worked as a stockbroker, placing him in the financial heart of the era’s booming economy, including the speculative world of mining shares.
Robbins served as an agent and superintendent for a paving company, contributing to the infrastructure development of San Francisco, and was notably an editor for the San Francisco Chronicle, the very paper that published his wife’s controversial columns. His business acumen extended to being a trustee for a publishing company and, significantly, for several years, president of the Dardanelles Mining Company, which held direct interests in the rich Comstock Lode. This connection to the mining industry suggests he was well-versed in the very corporate machinations his wife often criticized.
The couple shared a clear literary inclination. In 1871, they jointly published ghost stories in the *Overland Monthly*, a prominent California literary magazine, showcasing a creative partnership beyond their public personas. Maria, in particular, was also known to write poetry, indicating a refined side to the feisty journalist.
Census records trace their movements, showing them living in Virginia City in 1870 before settling in San Francisco by 1880. They enjoyed significant financial success, residing in San Francisco’s most luxurious hotels and moving in elite circles, even rubbing elbows with powerful figures like mining magnate and politician *George Hearst*, father of William Randolph Hearst, further illustrating their social standing.
A Dramatic Vindication
James Robbins’ life took a bizarre and harrowing turn in August 1883 when he was falsely accused of sexually molesting two young girls in Modesto. This grave accusation appeared to be an elaborate *blackmail attempt*, a dangerous game in the often-unforgiving frontier justice system. Robbins found himself twice targeted by a vigilance committee, a self-appointed group enforcing law and order, which often operated outside formal legal channels and could mete out swift, severe punishment.
Despite the immense pressure and peril, Robbins bravely fought to clear his name. In a dramatic courtroom scene, he ultimately proved his innocence by disrobing to reveal the absence of tattooed marks that one of the accusers claimed to have seen on his body. This public act of desperation and defiance led to his complete exoneration. The *Napa Register* celebrated his triumph on February 22, 1884, declaring that the trial “resulted not only in the acquittal of Robbins of the crime charged against him but in his complete moral vindication in the sight of all men.”
Mary Jane Simpson: The Beloved Mining Mule
While Maria Percival Robbins was stirring up controversy with her pen, another Mary Jane Simpson was about to make her own mark, albeit deep within the earth of the Comstock Lode. In the fall of 1871, the Belcher mine, one of the many operations extracting precious minerals, faced a significant challenge. Miners struggled to push heavily loaded ore cars up a steep incline to a shaft, from which the ore would be hoisted approximately 1,000 feet to the surface. It was grueling, back-breaking work.
Superintendent Hank Smith devised a solution: *mining mules*. At the end of September, a male mule named Old Pete was drafted for the arduous task. Remarkably, Pete remained calm even as his legs were bound and his body was carefully lowered down the deep mine shaft, signaling the start of a new era of underground labor.
Just a few days later, a female mule joined Pete, and in a display of the miners’ characteristic rough humor, she was christened “Mary Jane Simpson,” after the outspoken and not always popular Chronicle correspondent. This naming choice reflected the miners’ awareness of current events and their willingness to playfully, or perhaps mockingly, associate a working animal with a controversial public figure. A few months after that, another female mule joined the team, named Susan B. Anthony, a prominent women’s rights crusader. These names playfully underscored the miners’ views, perhaps less than supportive, of late nineteenth-century notions of women’s rights and public roles.
A Mule of Exceptional Character
Mary Jane Simpson spent eighteen subterranean months toiling in the Belcher mine, hauling cars laden with ore over railroad tracks laid deep beneath the surface. Mules, while robust, often have a reputation for being willful, stubborn, and challenging to manage. Yet, Mary Jane was an exception to this stereotype.
She proved to be an extraordinarily cooperative and good-natured beast, qualities that quickly endeared her to the tough, often isolated miners. Her amiable disposition made her a favorite; she not only captured their hearts but frequently found herself sharing in their meager dinner pails, a true sign of affection and acceptance in the harsh mining environment. This remarkable mule became a symbol of loyalty and steadfastness in a world defined by relentless labor and danger.
In the spring of 1873, Mary Jane Simpson’s services in the Belcher mine were no longer needed. Technological advancements had arrived, making it possible to hoist ore directly to the surface using new steam machinery, rendering the mules’ underground labor obsolete. Mary Jane retired to a nearby ranch, accompanied by Victoria Woodhull, another female mule named after a women’s rights advocate, who was also a veteran of the Belcher mine. Sadly, Victoria Woodhull met a tragic end, choking to death after getting her head stuck between two fence boards.
From Underground Hero to Surface Workhorse
Mary Jane’s retirement was short-lived. Early in 1875, she was purchased by the Consolidated Virginia mine, one of the most productive mines on the Comstock. Her new role involved surface work, hauling ore 500 feet through a covered gallery, transporting it from the main shaft to the mill for processing. Once again, her engaging disposition quickly won her favor among the miners and even the occasional curious tourist who visited the bustling mine site.
No one was fonder of her than her groom, Ben Smith. A man seemingly without a family, Smith developed a profound affection for his charge, demonstrating the deep emotional bonds that could form between humans and working animals in these rugged environments. Mary Jane was more than just a beast of burden; she was a companion, a source of comfort, and an integral part of the mining community.
Her contributions were not just emotional; they were immense economically. According to the *Territorial Enterprise* on January 23, 1876, Mary Jane Simpson’s productivity was astounding. “[D]uring the eight months she worked at the Consolidated Virginia mine, she hauled nearly $8,000,000 in silver and gold, and during the eighteen months of her underground servitude in the Belcher, she probably hauled $10,000,000.” This summed up to an astonishing $18,000,000 in 1876, a staggering figure that, adjusted for inflation, would be equivalent to approximately *half a billion dollars* in 2023. Her unwavering labor directly contributed to the vast wealth extracted from the Comstock Lode.
The Great Fire of 1875 and a Lasting Tribute
October 26, 1875, would forever be remembered as “The Day Hell Paid A Visit To Virginia City.” That morning, a fire erupted in a boarding house, and fanned by strong winds, it quickly transformed into a catastrophic inferno. The blaze swept through much of the city, leaving widespread devastation in its wake. While precise figures vary, the impact was immense: approximately 5,000 people were rendered homeless, 200 businesses were destroyed, and 2,000 buildings were reduced to ash, with damages estimated at a staggering $10,000,000.
The fire’s destructive path reached the Consolidated Virginia hoisting works and, tragically, Mary Jane Simpson’s stable. Ben Smith, her devoted groom, belatedly realized the mule’s grave danger and rushed to her aid. However, the flames had already engulfed the stable, and it was too late. In a heart-wrenching attempt to end her suffering, Smith tried to shoot her with his six-gun but was unable to get close enough through the inferno. Mary Jane Simpson perished in the fiery catastrophe, a heroic life meeting a tragic end.
Brokenhearted, Ben Smith carefully gathered her charred remains. He buried her just outside the Masonic Cemetery, marking her grave with a crudely inscribed wooden board, a humble but deeply heartfelt tribute to his beloved companion. This simple marker endured, a testament to the mule’s profound impact on the community.
On June 26, 1993, a more permanent and prominent monument was placed at her grave site by the Julia C. Bulette Chapter of E Clampus Vitus, a historical fraternal organization dedicated to preserving the history of the American West. The monument proudly quotes the original inscription, capturing the raw emotion and respect the miners held for her:
- SACRED TO THE MEMORY
- OF
- MARY JANE SIMPSON
- THE WITHIN WAS ONLY A MULE
- STILL SHE WAS NOBODY’S FULE
- STRANGER TREAD LIGHTLY
The sentiment “STILL SHE WAS NOBODY’S FULE” speaks volumes, acknowledging her intelligence, spirit, and invaluable contribution, transcending her status as a mere animal. It reflects the deep bond and respect forged in the harsh realities of the Comstock Lode.
An Irony of History
After her impactful tenure as the correspondent Mary Jane Simpson, Maria Percival Robbins quietly transitioned back to her life in San Francisco as the wife of a wealthy businessman. She settled into a comfortable existence, far removed from the clamor and controversy of Virginia City’s mining camps. Her later years were marked by a tranquility that belied her earlier journalistic exploits.
Yet, history, in its often-ironic way, has chosen to remember the name “Mary Jane Simpson” differently. While Maria, the *crusading reporter* who fearlessly challenged the predatory industrialists of her day, faded into relative obscurity, her namesake—the lovable, loyal, and incredibly productive mule—is honored with a permanent monument in the very heart of Virginia City. This peculiar double legacy serves as a poignant reminder of the diverse and often unexpected ways individuals and even animals can leave their mark on the rich tapestry of Old West history, forever intertwined in the lore of the Comstock Lode.
