The name of James C. Fair will be recognized at once as one of the
bonanza kings, and like the others he enjoyed only a fair education,
starting for California at about the same time as the rest; he taking
the overland route while they went by water. His only capital consisting
of a miner's outfit, and with those simple implements he began his hard
fought battle for wealth. He made mining a scientific study and after
about six years of variable success, he became known as an expert. Soon
after this he accepted the superintendency of the Ophir mine, and later,
the Hale & Norcross; since which time he has gone on, until now, he can
count his worldly possessions by the million. He is a most thorough
miner, and his long continued life at the bottom of the mines has had a
telling effect on his health. That he has successfully managed such wild
and wicked men, as many miners are, without becoming the victim of some
"accident," indicates something of his ability. Finally his impaired
health necessitated his withdrawal from active work, and he made an
extended voyage, returning in a much improved condition.
In 1881 he was elected to the United States Senate, where he acquitted
himself with credit. He charged nothing for his services, an event
without parallel in our history, however, he received all for which he
went to Washington--honor. He is assessed for over forty millions, and
can well afford to donate his salary to the Government.
Like the other bonanza kings he seems to have been specially favored by
fortune, but the old saying, "Birds of a feather will flock together,"
is true in this case, for these men are all practical miners and changed
partners often until the firm of Flood, Fair & MacKay was formed, since
which time they all seem perfectly satisfied each with the other. All
had been sorely tried during their earlier life and were not found
wanting either in ability or stick-to-it-iveness as they passed through
the crucible of Dame Fortune.
As we have just been reading the lives of the three bonanza kings, J. C.
Flood, J. C. Fair and J. W. MacKay, possibly a description of one of
their enterprises in the shape of a flume will be interesting as
described by a New York _Tribune_ correspondent:
A fifteen-mile ride in a flume down the Sierra Nevada Mountains in
thirty minutes was not one of the things contemplated in my visit to
Virginia City, and it is entirely within reason to say that even if I
should make this my permanent place of residence--which fortune
forbid--I shall never make the trip again. The flume cost, with its
appurtenances, between $200,000 and $300,000--if it had cost a million
it would be the same in my estimation. It was built by a company
interested in the mines here, principally the owners of the Consolidated
Virginia, California, Hale & Norcross, Gould & Curry, Best & Belcher and
Utah mines. The largest stockholders in these mines are J. C. Flood,
James C. Fair, John W. MacKay and W. S. O'Brien, who compose without
doubt the wealthiest firm in the United States. Taking the stock of
their companies at the price quoted in the board, the amount they own is
more than $100,000,000, and each has a large private fortune in
addition. The mines named use 1,000,000 feet of lumber per month under
ground, and burn 40,000 cords of wood per year. Wood is here worth from
$10 to $12 per cord, and at market prices Messrs. Flood & Co. would have
to pay nearly $500,000 a year for wood alone. Going into the mine the
other day, and seeing the immense amount of timber used, and knowing the
incalculable amount of wood burned in the several mines and mills, I
asked Mr. MacKay, who accompanied me, where all the wood and timber
came from. "It comes," said he, "from our lands in the Sierras, forty or
fifty miles from here. We own over twelve thousand acres in the vicinity
of Washoe Lake, all of which is heavily timbered." "How do you get it
here?" I asked. "It comes," said he, "in our flume down the mountains,
fifteen miles, and from our dumping grounds is brought by the Virginia &
Truckee Railroad to this city, about sixteen miles. You ought to see the
flume before you go back; it is really a wonderful thing." The flume is
a wonderful piece of engineering work. It is built wholly on
trestle-work and stringers; there is not a cut in the whole distance,
and the grade is so heavy that there is little danger of a jam. The
trestle-work is very substantial, and undoubtedly strong enough to
support a narrow-gauge railway. It runs over foot-hills, through
valleys, around mountains, and across canyons. In one place it is
seventy feet high. The highest point of the flume from the plain is
3,700 feet, and on an air-line, from beginning to end the distance is
eight miles, the course thus taking up seven miles in twists and turns.
The trestle-work is thoroughly braced longitudinally and across, so that
no break can extend further than a single box, which is 16 feet. All the
main supports, which are five feet apart, are firmly set in mudsills,
and the boxes or troughs rest in brackets four feet apart. These again
rest upon substantial stringers. The grade of the flume is from 1,600 to
2,000 feet from top to bottom--a distance, as previously stated, of
fifteen miles. The sharpest fall is three feet in six. There are two
reservoirs from which the flume is fed. One is 1,100 feet long and the
other is 600 feet. A ditch, nearly two miles long, takes the water to
the first reservoir, whence it is conveyed 3-1/4 miles to the flume
through a feeder capable of carrying 450 inches of water. The whole
flume was built in ten weeks. In that time all the trestle-work,
stringers and boxes were put in place. About 200 men were employed on it
at one time, being divided into four gangs. It required 2,000,000 feet
of lumber, but the item which astonished me most was that there were 28
tons, or 56,000 pounds of nails used in the construction of this flume.
Mr. Flood and Mr. Fair had arranged for a ride in the flume, and I was
challenged to go with them. Indeed the proposition was put in this
way--they dared me to go. I thought that if men worth twenty-five or
thirty million dollars apiece could afford to risk their lives, I could
afford to risk mine, which isn't worth half as much. So I accepted the
challenge, and two 'boats' were ordered. These were nothing more than
pig troughs, with one end knocked out. The 'boat' is built like the
flume, V shaped, and fits into the flume. The grade of the flume at the
mill is very heavy, and the water rushes through it at railroad speed.
The terrors of that ride can never be blotted from the memory of one of
the party. I cannot give the reader a better idea of a flume ride than
to compare it to sliding down an old-fashioned eve-trough at an angle of
45 degrees, hanging in mid-air without support of roof or house, and
extending a distance of fifteen miles. At the start we went at the rate
of twenty miles an hour, which is a little less than the average speed
of a railroad train. The red-faced carpenter sat in front of our boat on
the bottom as best he could. Mr. Fair sat on a seat behind him, and I
sat behind Mr. Fair in the stern and was of great service to him in
keeping the water which broke over the end-board, from his back. There
was also a great deal of water shipped in the bows of the hog-trough,
and I know Mr. Fair's broad shoulders kept me from more than one ducking
in that memorable trip. At the heaviest grades the water came in so
furiously in front that it was impossible to see where we were going, or
what was ahead of us; but when the grade was light, and we were going at
a three or four minute pace, the view was very delightful, although it
was terrible. When the water would enable me to look ahead, I could see
the trestle here and there for miles; so small and so narrow and
apparently so fragile that I could only compare it to a chalk-mark upon
which, high in the air, I was running at a rate unknown to railroads.
One circumstance during the trip did more to show me the terrible
rapidity with which we dashed through the flume than anything else. We
had been rushing down at a pretty lively rate of speed when the boat
suddenly struck something in the bow, a nail, a lodged stick of wood or
some secure substance which ought not to have been there. What was the
effect? The red-faced carpenter was sent whirling into the flume ten
feet ahead. Fair was precipitated on his face, and I found a soft
lodgment on Fair's back. It seems to me that in a second's time--Fair
himself a powerful man--had the carpenter by the scruff of the neck, and
had pulled him into the boat. I did not know at this time that Fair had
his fingers crushed between the flume and the boat. But we sped along;
minutes seemed hours. It seemed an hour before we arrived at the worst
place in the flume, and yet Hereford tells me that it was less than ten
minutes. The flume at the point alluded to must have been very nearly
forty-five degrees inclination. In looking out, before we reached it, I
thought the only way to get to the bottom was to fall. How our boat kept
in the track is more than I know.
The wind, the steamboat, the railroad, never went so fast. In this
particularly bad place I allude to, my desire was to form some judgment
as to the speed we were making. If the truth must be spoken, I was
really scared almost out of my reason, but if I were on my way to
eternity I wanted to know exactly how fast I went, so I huddled close to
Fair, and turned my eyes toward the hills. Every object I placed my eyes
upon was gone before I could plainly see what it was. Mountains passed
like visions and shadows. It was with difficulty that I could get my
breath. I felt that I did not weigh a hundred pounds, although I knew in
the sharpness of intellect that I tipped the scales at two hundred. Mr.
Flood and Mr. Hereford, although they started several minutes later than
we, were close upon us. They were not so heavily loaded, and they had
the full sweep of the water, while we had it rather at second-hand.
Their boat finally struck ours with a terrible crash. Mr. Flood was
thrown upon his face, and the waters flowed over him. What became of
Hereford I do not know, except that when we reached the terminus of the
flume he was as wet as any of us. This only remains to be said: We made
the entire distance in less time than a railway train would ordinarily
make, and a portion of the distance we went faster than a railway train
ever went. Fair said we went at least a mile a minute. Flood said that
we went at the rate of a hundred miles an hour, and my deliberate belief
is that we went at a rate that annihilated time and space. We were a wet
lot when we reached the terminus of the flume.
Flood said that he would not make the trip again for the whole
Consolidated Virginia mine. Fair said that he should never again place
himself upon an equality with timber and wood, and Hereford said he was
sorry that he ever built the flume. As for myself, I told the
millionaires that I had accepted my last challenge. When we left our
boats we were more dead than alive. The next day neither Flood nor Fair
were able to leave their beds. For myself, I have only the strength to
say that I have had enough of flumes.