In 1864, the vibrant yet often volatile landscape of the Reese River Valley, Nevada, was a frontier of boundless ambition and rapidly shifting fortunes. This era witnessed the rise and fall of numerous mining towns, each leaving its unique ‘footprints’ in the rugged terrain, exemplified by the now-forgotten settlement of Washington, a significant player in the early development of the Reese River Valley.
Nestled within Lander County, Washington was once a bustling mining hub, a proud rival to Austin for the coveted title of territorial capital. The town boasted immense ledges of silver, most notably the New Hope Mine, and astounding galena deposits like the St. Helena of Alvarez in Cottonwood Canyon. While Austin was often dismissed as a presumptuous village clinging to a few rich quartz veins, Washington’s inhabitants held grand visions for their burgeoning community, fueled by the promise of untapped mineral wealth. Communication was vital in these remote territories, with a daily stage and the swift Pony Express connecting Washington to the wider world and its rival, Austin.
The Peculiarities of Frontier Life and a Postmaster’s Reign
Life in frontier towns like Washington was marked by both hardship and a unique social fabric. Residents eagerly paid exorbitant rates for mail, 25 cents for received letters and 12 ½ cents for sent ones, reflecting the isolation and the value placed on connection. The postmaster, Charlie Dodson, commanded a respect bordering on reverence, enjoying a privileged status that would astonish any modern-day official. He was an autocrat of the mail, whose daily routine of awakening, demanding news of the stage, and then leisurely heading for a cocktail at Patroni’s was tolerated as a charming eccentricity rather than an affront.
This deferential treatment, however, proved to be Dodson’s undoing. He transformed into a “bloated aristocrat,” and within half a year, the confines of Washington proved too small for his inflated ego. One morning, much to the camp’s surprise, he appointed a deputy and agents for his mining interests, declared life too short for such a small camp, and boarded the stage for Chicago, never to be heard from again. Despite his abrupt departure, such was the era of immense possibilities that some residents harbored a belief that Charlie might one day re-emerge as a presidential candidate. This period was characterized by an almost utopian optimism, where men built elaborate “castles in the air,” confident they would soon amass fortunes rivaling that of Michael Reese.
The Illusion Shatters: The Decline of Washington
The intoxicating dream of instant wealth, however, was abruptly shattered. The first quartz mill, ingeniously engineered by Jimmy Middlemiss, commenced operations, processing ore from the New Hope Mine. Yet, without explanation, it quickly shut down. The crushing truth emerged: the ore simply did not yield enough to be profitable. This economic blow was devastating for a town that had grown with such ambitious pretensions, sprawling for a mile up and down the canyon with “additions that reached clear out of sight.” Corner lots, once valued at exorbitant sums, now held no appeal.
The collapse of the mining venture and the cessation of work at the New Hope Mine marked the beginning of Washington’s swift decline. The residents, once consumed by the prospects of war and territorial disputes, now found their focus shifting to the mundane but critical matter of the post office’s removal. This fixation underscored the desperate hope that lingered even as their grand illusions crumbled. The early inhabitants of Washington were, in retrospect, a collection of individuals “building extravagant hopes on the myths and freaks of fortune.” When the dream unequivocally ended, those who could detach themselves from their “magnificent hopes and great expectations” quietly folded their tents and departed, leaving behind a ghost of a once-aspiring city.
An Enduring Legacy in the Reese River Valley
As the town of Washington silently faded, its name persisted primarily in mail contracts, where it was still referenced as a central point in the great Reese River Valley. The exact methods by which mail contractors obtained signatures for petitions citing this “important town” remained their secret. Despite the ultimate failure of their grand mining ambitions, the efforts of these early pioneers were not entirely in vain. As Clint Patchen of Pioche astutely observed, they were “making footprints,” contributing to the development of a nation’s royal domain and perhaps building a foundation for future generations in ways they could not have foreseen.
The story of Washington in the Reese River Valley serves as a poignant reminder of the boom-and-bust cycles inherent in frontier expansion and mining history. It illustrates the human spirit’s capacity for both immense hope and profound disappointment. Though the town itself vanished, the collective endeavors, the dreams, and even the follies of its residents were an integral part of shaping the American West, leaving an indelible mark on the historical tapestry of Nevada.
