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Wells Fargo has come! Wells Fargo has come!
GOLD! In 1848, newspapers headlined the discovery of gold in California. Stories of people “picking gold out of the earth” captivated readers. From big cities and small villages all over the world, thousands of adventurers set out from their small farms and shops for California. A popular melody of the time, “Oh, Susanna,” expressed the excitement:
And then I’ll look all around,
And when I see the gold lumps there
I’ll pick ’em off the ground:
I’ll scrape the mountains clean, my boys,
I’ll drain the rivers dry.
A pocket-full of rocks bring home,—
So brothers, don’t you cry.
Oh, California!
That’s the land for me.
I’m bound for San Francisco,
With my wash-bowl on my knee.
Reaching California was not easy. Some prospectors traveled west across the prairie and desert, fighting danger, hunger, and thirst. Others took long ship voyages around South America. Some got off ships on Panama’s Atlantic coast and trudged through insect-infested rain forests to reach the Pacific, where they boarded other ships for San Francisco. Each came with a personal dream of fame and fortune. Crew members even abandoned their ships to join them. Despite the fervor and optimism, few struck it rich.
Before the gold rush, California had a population of less than 160,000, nearly all Native Americans. Following the massive influx of settlers, the nonnative population grew from less than 1,000 to more than 100,000 two years later. The United States acquired the California Territory from Mexico in 1848 after the Mexican-American War. Because of the newly discovered gold and exploding population, California was quickly admitted into the Union, becoming the 31st state in 1850.
Once arriving in San Francisco, the adventurers found adobe houses and canvas tent villages along with dance halls and barrooms, and swindlers and shopkeepers sold food and tools at raised prices. Newcomers soon noticed the absence of women and children. One new arrival described his temporary sleeping arrangements on bales of hay shared with “two real judges, five ex-governors, three lawyers, and as many doctors, streaked with blacksmiths, tinkers and tailors.”
Gold rushers in the Bay of Panama converting canoes into schooners to take them north to California.
The journey to California was long and hard. For those going by ship through Panama there was often a long wait there to get to San Francisco. One traveler wrote home in May 1849: “I am still here, waiting patiently for the return of the steamer California, which has now been due three or four weeks…. It is calculated that there are now 1500 Americans on the Isthmus … waiting to procure a passage up the coast. Many are getting discouraged, and almost everyday witnesses the return of more or less of them on their way to the States.”
Those traveling by land across the Plains lived through other hardships. One gold rusher wrote, “After the period of six months … we have crossed the mountain of difficulties, and the desert of starvation.” Then, based on his experiences, he left a clear message: “If any have the gold fever, tell them to come any other way under heaven than this.”
Another traveler, Jacob S. Crum, wrote more forcefully, “I hope there are none of my friends who really desire to come to this land of fiction…. I advise all to stay at home, if they can, as it won’t pay to come to this country.”
Miners at work on the banks of the Stanislaus River.
After providing themselves with necessary supplies, they made their way to the mining camps that sprang up along streams and riverbeds of the gold regions, mainly along the Sacramento River and in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. It took luck rather than skill to find gold. An observer described the process: “The miner stoops down by the stream, choosing a place where there is the least current, and dipping a quantity of water into the pan with the dirt, stirs it about.” After much careful stirring and the addition of more water, the amount of gravel and dirt decreased, leaving behind the heavier gold particles. It required lots of hard work to collect varying amounts of gold. The miners were resourceful. As the gold became harder to find, they developed more sophisticated methods. When gold seemed to dry up in one location, miners moved to another.
Miners panning for gold in California.
Gold miners worked in remote areas. They feared leaving their diggings—the piece of land where they worked—since others could rush in while they were gone to claim their plots. They could not just leave their accumulated gold dust and nuggets lying around. They needed a trusted and secure way to transport their gold down the mountains and to the cities below.
There were several express services that delivered mail and packages throughout the eastern United States. The largest was the American Express Company, founded in 1850 by the merger of three smaller express firms owned by Henry Wells, William G. Fargo, and John Warren Butterfield. With news of the California gold rush, Wells and Fargo wanted to expand American Express’s business to California. When the company’s board of directors vetoed their idea, both men formed their own separate company and “launched in 1852 an industry that began the development of the Great West.”
Sutter’s Mill, a sawmill in Coloma, California, where the California gold rush began.
Henry Wells (left) (1804–1878) and William Fargo (1818–1881) helped create the American Express Company in New York. In 1852 they formed the company bearing their names, which served the West.
Wells, Fargo & Company began express operations in California to ship packages, purchase and sell gold, and transport passengers. They opened offices throughout the gold mining areas and offered a variety of services. They installed secure safes in their offices and charged miners for taking care of their gold dust. Armed messengers to the remotest gold camps provided reliable service that miners trusted. A Wells Fargo receipt for gold was a solid guarantee that the company would pay for a lost or stolen shipment. An 1857 Wells Fargo newspaper advertisement stated, “Freight, Parcels, Money and Letters, forwarded and delivered with dispatch, and at reasonable rates…. Personal attention of the Messenger is given to all matter entrusted to our charge.”
Miners were cut off from their families and loved ones. Letters were the only means of keeping in touch, and mail service was irregular. In June 1851, there were only 34 US post offices throughout California, few in the gold diggings. Wells Fargo filled the gap by delivering mail to nearly every town and mining camp. The miners tended to move often, in search of better diggings, and the post office had no way of following them. But Wells Fargo agents did. One newspaper reported, “It seems that private enterprise is ahead of Uncle Sam.”
People trusted Wells Fargo, and it gained a reputation of honesty. The company taught its agents, “The most polite and gentlemanly treatment of all customers, however insignificant their business, is insisted upon. Proper respect must be shown to all—let them be men, women or children, rich or poor, white or black, and it must not be forgotten that the company is dependent on these same people for its business.”
The arrival of a Wells Fargo stagecoach or wagon in town created a sense of expectation. Was there a friend or relative on board? Was there a package to be delivered? Composer Meredith Willson described that excitement in his song “The Wells Fargo Wagon” in his popular musical play The Music Man:
O-ho the Wells Fargo Wagon is a-comin’
down the street,
Oh please let it be for me!
O-ho the Wells Fargo Wagon is a-comin’
down the street,
I wish, I wish I knew what it could be!
Where the railroad ended, Wells Fargo stagecoaches began their journeys to the remotest mining camps and towns throughout the West.
From its earliest days, Wells Fargo’s coaches competed with other express companies in the West, creating a network of scheduled routes carrying people, packages, gold, money, and mail. By 1866, “Wells Fargo combined all the major western stage lines … and rolled over 3,000 miles of territory, from California to Nebraska, and from Colorado into the mining regions of Montana and Idaho.” The company set up a series of relay stations, or “stages,” along their routes to exchange fresh horses and provide meals for passengers. That word—stage—soon gave the stagecoach its shortened name. Those stations, usually not more than a small adobe hut and a corral, were usually arranged every 10 to 12 miles. Passengers had a few moments to stretch their legs while the horses were changed. Larger stations for longer journeys were located about 50 miles apart; passengers could receive meals and overnight lodging.
Stagecoach leaving the Wells Fargo office in Virginia City, Nevada.
The coaches were built by the Abbot-Downing Company of Concord, New Hampshire. The usual configuration included three inside bench seats for nine passengers. Additional passengers sat outside on top. Most coaches were shipped by sea from Concord to California, a journey of over 19,000 miles around Cape Horn in South America. The Concord coach was specially constructed to overcome the rough terrain of the West. It weighed over 2,200 pounds and was built to last. Instead of the usual steel springs, it swung on a thorough brace, “a stout leather strap attached to C-springs front and rear, on which the body of the vehicle” was suspended.
Stagecoach accidents were frequent. The routes stagecoaches traveled were in no way related to today’s paved highways. Along narrow mountain cliffs, over dusty plains, and across swollen rivers, stagecoach drivers worked hard to keep their passengers safe.
Wells Fargo stage stops were located everywhere.
Stagecoach journeys were difficult, but passengers still appreciated a mode of travel that operated on a schedule, was fast and efficient, and delivered them safely (most of the time) to their destinations.
Yet, getting a good meal during such journeys was not easy. Hungry passengers were limited to whatever food was available at the relay stations. Mark Twain described one meal in a stagecoach station:
The station-keeper up-ended a disk of last week’s bread, of the shape and size of an old-time cheese, and carved some slabs which were as good as … pavement, and tenderer. He sliced off a piece of bacon for each man, but only the experienced old hands made out to eat it, for it was condemned army bacon which the United States would not feed to its soldiers in the forts, and the stage company had bought it cheap for the sustenance of their passengers and employes [sic]…. Then he poured for us a beverage which he called Slumgullion and it is hard to think he was not inspired when he named it. It really pretended to be tea, but there was too much dish-rag, and sand, and old bacon-rind in it to deceive the intelligent traveler. He had no sugar and no milk—not even a spoon to stir the ingredients with. We could not eat the bread or the meat, nor drink the slumgullion.
The coaches were not only durable but also were sights to behold. Drawn by six horses, the brightly colored coaches, usually red or green, had doors decorated with scenic artwork. Prominently displayed above the door on each side was the name wells, fargo & co. One writer described the arrival of a Wells Fargo coach in a mining camp: “If there is a prettier street picture of animation than a red Concord coach with six spirited horses in harness and a good reinsman on the box, we have not seen it.”
Though a Wells Fargo stagecoach in motion was a striking sight indeed, what went on inside the coach was a different matter. Passengers endured many discomforts and were often “crowded together as the needs of the hour and the size of the passengers demanded, to sit elbow to elbow, side by side to the journey’s end.” They were jolted by rocks and ruts on the ground, while dust and rain easily passed through the poorly curtained open windows. “Passengers, dozing in corners or curled up on the middle seat, would fall in a heap at a sudden lurch, untangle themselves, and doze off again.”
Concord coaches on a train on their way west. The coaches of the Abbot-Downing Company of Concord, New Hampshire, were considered the finest available. Each coach seated nine passengers inside and six outside.
Those seeking gold without having to wield a pick and shovel soon realized that under the stagecoach driver’s seat was the Wells Fargo treasure box. The sturdy boxes were made of pine, oak, and iron and when loaded with gold bullion, cash, and legal papers could weigh between 100 and 150 pounds. Why work hard when all you had to do to get rich was rob a stagecoach? Soon, stagecoach robberies became common experiences for drivers and passengers. Wells Fargo responded by hiring armed messengers to “ride shotgun” next to the driver. They were “the kind of men you can depend on if you get into a fix.” The work was dangerous. Before becoming a famous writer, Bret Harte worked as a Wells Fargo messenger sometimes known as an expressman. He explained, “Stage robbers were plentiful. My predecessor in the position had been shot through the arm, and my successor was killed.” As the number of stagecoach routes increased, many trips went without shotgun messengers.
In 1877, the Omaha Herald published these hints for stagecoach travelers:
The best seat inside a stagecoach is the one next to the driver…. You will get less than half the bumps and jars than on any other seat. When any old “sly Eph,” who traveled thousands of miles on coaches, offers through sympathy to exchange his back or middle seat with you, don’t do it.
Never ride in cold weather with tight boots or shoes, nor close-fitting gloves. Bathe your feet before starting in cold water, and wear loose overshoes and gloves two or three sizes too large.
When the driver asks you to get off and walk, do it without grumbling. He will not request it unless absolutely necessary. If a team runs away, sit still and take your chances; if you jump, nine times out of ten you will be hurt.
In very cold weather, abstain entirely from liquor while on the road; a man will freeze twice as quick while under its influence.
Don’t growl at food stations; stage companies generally provide the best they can get.
Don’t keep the stage waiting; many a virtuous man has lost his character by so doing.
Don’t smoke a strong pipe inside especially early in the morning. Spit on the leeward side of the coach. If you have anything to take in a bottle, pass it around; a man who drinks by himself in such a case is lost to all human feeling. Provide stimulants before starting; ranch whisky is not always nectar.
Don’t swear, nor lop over on your neighbor when sleeping. Don’t ask how far it is to the next station until you get there.
Never attempt to fire a gun or pistol while on the road, it may frighten the team; and the careless handling and cocking of the weapon makes nervous people nervous. Don’t discuss politics or religion, nor point out places on the road where horrible murders have been committed.
Don’t linger too long at the pewter wash basin at the station. Don’t grease your hair before starting or dust will stick there in sufficient quantities to make a respectable “tater” patch. Tie a silk handkerchief around your neck to keep out dust and prevent sunburns. A little glycerin is good in case of chapped hands. Don’t imagine for a moment you are going on a picnic; expect annoyance, discomfort and some hardships. If you are disappointed, thank heaven.
Stage robberies were so common, one newspaper said they “were hardly worth noticing.” Wells Fargo disagreed. In a 14-year period, between 1870 and 1884, Wells Fargo recorded 313 stage robberies. Four drivers, two shotgun messengers, and four passengers were killed. The total loss for these robberies was $415,000. The company paid out that amount to the people who had entrusted robbed valuables to its care.
To show just how seriously the company took these holdups, it spent over $500,000 to track down and prosecute the robbers. Stage robbing was not a secure profession. Five of the robbers were killed during holdup attempts, another 14 were hanged by citizens, and 240 were convicted in the courts and sentenced to prison.
In his short story “An Ingenue of the Sierras,” Bret Harte described fictional stage driver Yuba Bill’s skill in avoiding a holdup:
The huge vehicle swayed from side to side, rolled, dipped, and plunged, but Bill kept the track, as if, in the whispered words of the Expressman he could “feel and smell” the road he could no longer see. We knew that at times we hung perilously over the edge of slopes that eventually dropped a thousand feet sheer to the tops of the sugar-pines below, but we knew that Bill knew it also. The half visible heads of the horses, drawn wedge-wise together by the tightened reins, appeared to cleave the darkness like a ploughshare, held between his rigid hands.
The robbers, sometimes referred to as highwaymen or road agents, differed in style. Some left the passengers alone and focused only on Wells Fargo’s treasure box. Others showed no compassion for travelers. On July 10, 1864, two armed highwaymen stopped the stage bound for San Jose, California. While one ordered the driver to throw down the box, the other aimed his pistol at the passengers and demanded, “Come out with your money, men.” When one passenger turned over what he claimed was all he had—$2.50—the bandit replied, “You have no business to travel on this road without more money.” Yet, when the driver requested that the robbers return any letters they found in the box, the robbers readily agreed. The driver then shared a drink of whiskey from his flask with them before the robbers allowed the stage to proceed. Not all robberies ended so peacefully.
When a Wells Fargo stagecoach was robbed in June 1866 on a lonely road in Nevada County, California, a sheriff’s posse quickly formed to track down the robbers. One lawman, Stephen Venard, soon encountered the robbers and the treasure box, containing $8,000 in gold dust. Killing all three robbers with four shots from his Henry rifle, he returned to Nevada City with the gold and his story. Wells Fargo presented him with a new gold-engraved Henry rifle and offered him a reward of $3,000, which he promptly shared with other members of the posse.
Another example was the unfortunate robber of the Shasta and Weaverville stage in October 1876. He “jumped from behind a bush, covering Wells Fargo’s messenger, John McNemer, with a shotgun.” The messenger had no choice but to throw down the treasure box. The robber grabbed the box and yelled to the driver to drive on. When the stage was out of sight, McNemer jumped off and ran back to where the robber sat opening the box. The messenger raised his shotgun and fired, killing the robber instantly.
And sometimes, robbers made mistakes. When three armed bandits stopped the La Porte, California, stage and told the driver, “We want the box,” he replied, “Boys, I have not got a thing. I don’t carry the box.” After one of the robbers carefully searched the stage, he told the driver, “By God, I believe you.” The thieves had stopped the wrong stage. When they discovered their error, one of them said, “There is honor in this crowd,” and did not try to rob the driver or his passengers before letting the stage travel on.
Other robbers seemed to be amateurs. When two robbers stopped the Petaluma and Healdsburg stage, they ordered the driver, William Wood, to climb down from his seat quickly or he would “get the top of his head shot off.” They made Wood hold his hands up while they searched his pockets and took $43, a watch, and a ring. Then they ordered the passengers out of the coach and relieved them of cash and watches. What the robbers somehow did not notice were the two heavily loaded Wells Fargo express boxes inside.
There seemed to be an unwritten code of honor between some drivers and robbers. When two other bandits stopped a San Jose–bound stage, the four passengers did not have much in cash or valuables to offer. Then, while the driver shared a drink with the robbers from his flask, a disappointed robber said, “You can go ahead, now; we will not trouble you anymore; it don’t pay us to come here—you carry too poor a crowd.”
As two robbers suddenly appeared in front of Hank Monk’s stage, the surprised veteran driver lost control of the startled horses, which sped ahead of the equally surprised highwaymen. Once Monk brought the stage to a stop, the shotgun messenger called back to the robbers to come forward. Unsure whether they now faced a trap, the robbers turned tail and disappeared into the brush.
Wells Fargo appreciated the dangerous work of its stage drivers and messengers. When two road agents tried to rob a stagecoach near San Bernardino, California, the driver, Thomas Peters, refused to stop. The robbers shot at him and hit one of the horses, which, although badly wounded, continued on for another three and a half miles before dying. Peters was able to escape, carrying the passengers and treasure box to safety and alerting authorities. Sheriff’s deputies captured both robbers the next day in a gunfight. Wells Fargo recognized Peter’s bravery by presenting him with an engraved gold watch worth $300.
Robbers relied on the element of surprise to stop a stagecoach, giving the driver or shotgun messenger little opportunity to respond. One newspaper account of a stage robbery near Paso de Robles took the passengers to task for not taking action: “The passengers, eighteen in number, were not disturbed and did not disturb the robber…. Eighteen passengers stand in awe of one man. We do not understand it.” When a passenger stood up to highwaymen on the Quincy and Oroville road, Wells Fargo recognized his bravery in saving the treasure box by presenting him with a valuable gold watch. “That’s the way to do it,” a newspaper said. “It needs something to stimulate passengers to make some show of resistance. Half of the land pirates are arrant cowards, and will run, as did this one, on the first show of opposition.”
In all stage robberies, Wells Fargo drivers and shotgun messengers faced constant dangers. When the Shasta stage was stopped near Redding, the driver obeyed the order to throw down the treasure box. Messenger Buck Montgomery, sitting inside the coach, picked up his shotgun and fired, wounding one of the robbers. Another robber took aim at Montgomery and killed him. In the exchange of fire, the driver was badly wounded in the knee. He handed the horses’ reins to the passenger sitting beside him, who was also wounded but able to guide the stage away to safety.
Wells Fargo instituted a generous reward system to help solve robberies. A typical announcement was placed in the Petaluma Weekly Argus newspaper on July 4, 1873. The company offered a reward of $1,500, as well as one-quarter of the amount recovered, for the arrest and conviction of the highwaymen who robbed their treasure box on the Downieville stage. The exact sum stolen was $2,681.
With continuous dangers to its passengers and treasure boxes, Wells Fargo created a company police department. Working with local law enforcement officers, their detectives pursued highwaymen and investigated thefts. Law enforcement back then was not scientific. Clues were often overlooked. With news of a stage holdup, law officers formed a posse and went chasing after the robbers without paying attention to details.
Wells Fargo’s express department in the Parrott Building, San Francisco.
Wells Fargo also provided banking services in the same building.
A new era in solving crime began, however, with the hiring of James B. Hume as Wells Fargo’s chief detective.
