The Rickard – Earp Connection

Tex Rickard and Wyatt Earp were both larger-than-life figures of the Old West, though they came from different backgrounds and made their marks in different ways.

Wyatt Earp is best known as a lawman, gambler, and gunslinger, with his most famous moment being the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral in 1881 in Tombstone, Arizona. Over his long life, Earp moved from town to town, working as a marshal, running saloons, and getting involved in mining and real estate.

Tex Rickard, on the other hand, was a cowboy-turned-promoter who became one of the most influential figures in early boxing. He built Madison Square Garden and promoted some of the biggest fights of the early 20th century, including Jack Dempsey’s title bouts.

Their connection? Rickard worked in mining towns early in his career and operated gambling halls, much like Earp. It’s believed that the two crossed paths in Nome, Alaska, around 1900, when Rickard was running a saloon and gambling house during the Klondike Gold Rush, and Earp was similarly involved in gambling and saloon keeping. Though they weren’t close associates, they were part of the same world of frontier towns, gambling, and larger-than-life hustling.

Earp’s legend was shaped by dime novels and Hollywood, while Rickard became a giant in sports promotion. Both, in their own ways, embodied the rough-and-tumble, opportunistic spirit of the American West.

Tex Rickard – Promoter

Tex Rickard (1870–1929) was an American boxing promoter, entrepreneur, and gambler who played a major role in popularizing prizefighting in the early 20th century. Born George Lewis Rickard in Kansas, he earned the nickname “Tex” due to his time in Texas as a cowboy and lawman.

Rickard made a fortune in gold mining in Alaska during the Klondike Gold Rush before turning to gambling and sports promotion. He gained fame by organizing high-profile boxing matches, including several heavyweight championship bouts featuring Jack Dempsey, which helped transform boxing into a mainstream sport.

Beyond boxing, Rickard was also a key figure in the development of Madison Square Garden, overseeing its construction in 1925. He also played a role in early professional hockey, founding the New York Rangers in 1926. His influence on sports promotion and venue management set the stage for modern sports entertainment.

Wyatt Earp and the Controversial 1896 Boxing Match Referee Incident

Wyatt Earp’s Most Notorious Night in the Ring: On December 2, 1896, famed lawman Wyatt Earp stepped into the boxing ring as the referee for a heavyweight bout between Bob “Ruby” Fitzsimmons and Tom “Sailor” Sharkey. The fight took place at Mechanics’ Pavilion in San Francisco, California. Billed (controversially) as a contest for the Heavyweight Championship of the World, the event drew enormous attention. By the end of the night, Earp’s decision to disqualify one fighter sparked a firestorm: he awarded the victory to Sharkey under contentious circumstances, provoking immediate outrage. This incident would become one of the most infamous controversies in boxing history, severely tarnishing Wyatt Earp’s reputation for years to come.

Background: Fighters and the Lead-Up to the Fight

In 1896, the heavyweight boxing scene was in flux. The reigning champion, James J. “Gentleman Jim” Corbett, had recently retired, leaving the title vacant and boxing fans eager to crown a new champion. Bob Fitzsimmons – an English-born fighter nicknamed “Ruby Robert” – was a skilled boxer and ferocious puncher (earlier that year he had knocked out contender Peter Maher in one round). Fitzsimmons was widely regarded as the top contender and heavy favorite to become the next champion. His opponent, Tom “Sailor” Sharkey, was a tough Irish-born brawler and former sailor who had built a respectable record, though he was seen as the underdog against the more accomplished Fitzsimmons. To capitalize on the public’s hunger for a title showdown, the San Francisco-based National Athletic Club arranged a high-profile match between Fitzsimmons and Sharkey. Boxing was technically illegal in San Francisco at the time, but that didn’t deter promoters or fans – demand was so high that about 10,000 spectators crowded into Mechanics’ Pavilion for the bout (city officials and police even attended, despite the legal prohibition).

Tom “Sailor” Sharkey (left) and Bob “Ruby” Fitzsimmons (right), the two fighters in the 1896 San Francisco heavyweight bout refereed by Wyatt Earp. Fitzsimmons was an experienced former middleweight champion known for his knockout power, while Sharkey was a rugged brawler and Navy veteran. The match between these two was billed as a championship fight to determine the top heavyweight after James J. Corbett’s retirement, and public interest was enormous.

Wyatt Earp’s role as referee came about somewhat unexpectedly. Earp was 48 years old and long retired from his Wild West lawman days, but he had dabbled in boxing circles as a spectator and occasional referee of small matches on the West Coast and in Mexico. The fight’s organizers, scrambling to find a reputable official for such a high-stakes contest, approached Earp. He had a known name and a reputation (at least then) for toughness and honesty, which they hoped would lend credibility to the bout. Wyatt reportedly hesitated at first, aware that he lacked experience officiating bouts of this magnitude. Nevertheless, the allure of being the third man in a major prizefight – and perhaps a generous fee – convinced him to accept the assignment. Earp was announced as the referee just before the fight, a choice that drew some skepticism even before the opening bell.

Pre-Fight Tensions and Rumors of a Fix

Even before the fight started, controversy was brewing around Earp’s appointment. San Francisco was abuzz with rumors that the fight might be “fixed” – that is, that the outcome was pre-arranged in Sharkey’s favor. Sharkey’s own trainer, Danny Needham, had reportedly sent telegrams to acquaintances urging them to “Bet all you have got on Sharkey to win.” Such confidence in the underdog struck many as suspicious. Indeed, Martin Julian, Fitzsimmons’ manager, was so alarmed by the pre-fight gossip that he protested Earp’s selection in the ring before the bout began, citing “all the chatter of a fix” and demanding a different referee. Sensing the tension, Earp said he was willing to step down if both camps agreed, but Sharkey’s side insisted on Earp staying on, threatening to cancel the fight if he was removed. Their steadfast support of Earp as referee (despite the swirling rumors) later struck observers as one more curious detail in an increasingly dubious affair.

Another almost comic incident underscored the night’s unusual atmosphere: Wyatt Earp entered the ring armed, with a large revolver tucked in his coat. San Francisco Police Captain George Wittman, on hand at the event, was startled to see the famous lawman packing heat in the prize ring and made Earp hand over the “murderous-looking revolver” before the fight got underway. (Earp habitually carried a gun, explaining later that he did so out of habit and for personal protection.) The image of a boxing referee surrendering his six-shooter to the police in front of thousands of spectators made for vivid newspaper copy, and the San Francisco Call would soon mock Earp for having “a Navy revolver a foot long sticking out of his hip pocket” in the ring. With the preliminaries (and Earp’s sidearm) set aside, the fighters and referee prepared to make boxing history – though not in the way anyone expected.

The Fight: A Hard Battle until a Sudden, Controversial End

When the match began, it lived up to its hype – at least for the first seven rounds. Fitzsimmons, nicknamed “The Fighting Blacksmith,” used his superior skill and punching power to outbox Sharkey, as many anticipated. Sharkey, known for his brawling style and toughness, pressed forward aggressively but was eating hard shots and clearly losing ground as the fight went on. The crowd, largely rooting for Fitzsimmons (who was the favorite in betting), grew increasingly confident they were about to see “Ruby Robert” crowned the new champion.

In the 8th round, however, the drama reached its climax. Fitzsimmons drove a heavy body blow into Sharkey and knocked the sailor to the canvas. What happened next would be debated for decades. Sharkey writhed on the floor clutching his groin, claiming he’d been hit with a low blow (a punch below the belt). Fitzsimmons, believing he’d scored a legitimate knock-out, initially stood amused at Sharkey’s reaction, apparently unconvinced that any foul had occurred. After a brief moment of confusion, referee Wyatt Earp halted the bout and stunned everyone by announcing that Fitzsimmons had indeed struck a foul punch. He disqualified Bob Fitzsimmons and awarded the victory to Tom Sharkey. This meant Sharkey won the match (and the hefty prize purse) on a technicality, at the very moment he seemed to be losing.

Earp’s call provoked immediate chaos and outrage. The roaring crowd of thousands booed loudly as soon as the decision was announced. Almost no one in the audience had seen any foul occur – from their viewpoint, Fitzsimmons’ body blow looked fair, and Sharkey’s collapse appeared either genuine but unrelated to an illegal punch, or outright faked. Ringside witnesses were similarly baffled; one report noted “very few” actually observed the purported low blow. The arena erupted in anger, with spectators jeering Earp vehemently. Many had placed bets favoring Fitzsimmons (given he was the expected victor), so not only did their champion seem unjustly robbed, but their wallets were too. Earp suddenly found himself surrounded by an irate mob in the ring – some shouting that the fight was rigged, others simply stunned that the famous Wyatt Earp had rendered such a contentious verdict.

Immediate Aftermath: Protests, Legal Action, and Public Outcry

Right after the fight, accusations flew. Fitzsimmons was incensed at being denied victory and insisted he’d done nothing illegal. His managers and supporters claimed that a grave injustice – even fraud – had just taken place. They took the extraordinary step of going to court the very next day to prevent Sharkey from collecting the prize money. Fitzsimmons’s camp sought an injunction on the grounds that the result was fixed and illegitimate. A hearing was held, putting the bout under legal scrutiny for several days. In court, witnesses recounted the fight and the suspicious circumstances. One boxing official testified to seeing unusual betting activity favoring Sharkey shortly before the match (odds had shifted suddenly in Sharkey’s favor, hinting that insiders knew something). There were even questions about Sharkey’s injury: Dr. B. Brookes Lee, who examined Sharkey right after the bout, turned out not to be a licensed doctor at all – and years later he admitted he had helped fake the extent of Sharkey’s injury to support the foul claim. Despite all the suspicions, the legal challenge ran into a wall: a judge ultimately ruled that because the fight itself had been illegal (unlicensed prizefighting), the courts could not recognize its result or enforce any decision. In other words, the civil authorities washed their hands of the whole affair. This left Tom Sharkey free to collect the purse, and the official outcome (Sharkey winning by Earp’s disqualification call) remained intact – at least on paper. Fitzsimmons had no legal recourse to overturn the result. (He would, however, get his chance at glory a few months later: Corbett came out of retirement to fight Fitzsimmons in March 1897, and Fitz won that bout to claim the undisputed World Heavyweight Championship.)

Meanwhile, the public reaction to Earp’s decision was swift and brutal. In San Francisco, nearly everyone outside of Sharkey’s own entourage believed that Wyatt Earp had perpetrated a fix. As one paper put it, “Virtually no one agreed with Earp’s ruling,” encapsulating the public sentiment. Earp, once celebrated as a fearless lawman, was now being denounced on the West Coast as either a crooked referee or an incompetent one. Immediately after the fight, Earp had to be escorted out of the venue for his own safety, and he reportedly left San Francisco soon thereafter to lay low.

Media Coverage and the Storm of Controversy

The newspapers of the day had a field day with the story, and their coverage both reflected and amplified the outrage. San Francisco’s two major dailies took opposite sides. **William Randolph Hearst’s **Examiner (perhaps owing to Hearst’s past friendly acquaintance with Earp) cautiously supported Wyatt, while the **San Francisco **Call unleashed a barrage of criticism. On December 5, 1896, the Call devoted nearly its entire front page to the “foul” fight. It lambasted Earp’s character and integrity, calling the verdict “one of the most bare-faced robberies that has ever been perpetrated in this State under the guise of sport.” The Call openly suggested that Earp had colluded to fix the fight. It pointed to the suspicious betting and insider confidence on Sharkey’s side as evidence that a criminal conspiracy was afoot. The paper even mocked Earp’s gun-toting persona, sneering that he came to the ring with a revolver as if his “past mode of making a livelihood” (gunfighting) was his answer to everything. Describing him as a trigger-happy frontier thug, the Call wrote that Earp “has been a man who has shot down people innumerable… and said ‘What a great man am I.’” – a scathing portrayal meant to undermine Earp’s credibility in the modern sports arena.

Earp was pilloried in newspapers across the country. The story of the famous lawman allegedly cheating in a prizefight proved irresistibly sensational. Newspapers from California to New York picked up the tale and ran with it. Perhaps the most biting criticism came in the form of editorial cartoons. The New York Herald published a harsh caricature of Wyatt Earp that was reprinted widely (including in the San Francisco papers). In it, Earp is depicted as a “cackling, washed-up ruffian” in a cowboy hat, pointing a pistol at a fallen Fitzsimmons with one hand while passing a bag of cash to Sharkey with the other. This cartoon encapsulated what many believed: that Earp had brazenly taken a payoff to call a foul and hand victory to Sharkey. The image’s caption dubbed Earp a “Bad Man,” and it so captured public sentiment that it “dogged him the rest of his life.” Indeed, for years afterward, anyone who knew of Wyatt Earp would recall his role in this scandal with scorn or bemusement.

Amid the media furor, Wyatt Earp defended himself staunchly. He flatly denied any wrongdoing or any deal with the fighters. “I felt I did what was right… I saw the foul blow struck as plainly as I see you, and that is all there is to it,” Earp told the press, notably the San Francisco Examiner. He maintained that he called the fight as he saw it, implying that if the public disagreed, it didn’t concern him. Despite Earp’s protestations of honesty, the general public remained deeply skeptical. To most observers, it strained belief that an experienced boxer like Fitzsimmons would suddenly commit a flagrant foul when he was on the verge of victory – unless something nefarious was afoot. And if Fitzsimmons truly had fouled Sharkey, why had almost no one except Wyatt Earp seen it? These doubts continued to shadow the incident. Years later, in 1905, Dr. B. Brookes Lee (the dubious “physician” who treated Sharkey) signed an affidavit admitting the fight had been fixed – he confessed that he had helped make it appear Sharkey was fouled by treating him for an injury he didn’t really have. Lee’s statement suggested the fighters and promoters had arranged in advance for Sharkey to claim a foul once he was in trouble, thus securing him the win. It remains unclear whether Earp was in on this scheme or was an unwitting patsy who truly believed he saw a low punch. Regardless, the damage to Earp’s name was already done by then.

Impact on Earp’s Reputation and Legacy

The controversial San Francisco fight had a devastating impact on Wyatt Earp’s reputation. In the immediate aftermath, Earp became a pariah in sporting circles. He was threatened with indictment by local authorities for his role in the illegal fight (and was even fined $50 for carrying that concealed weapon into the ring). Old creditors and detractors saw an opportunity to dogpile him – within days, several lawsuits were filed against Earp for unrelated debts, as if to literally “cash in” on his notoriety. Feeling the heat, Earp left San Francisco abruptly and kept a low profile for a time. His venture into big-time boxing had left him humiliated. One historian noted it was “the most humiliating event of Earp’s life,” exceeding even the negative fallout he’d faced after infamous gunfights. The stain of the alleged fix followed him relentlessly. Wherever Earp went, the story trailed behind – often overshadowing the legend of Tombstone’s O.K. Corral.

In fact, when Wyatt Earp died in 1929, many newspaper obituaries and public recollections focused as much on the boxing scandal as on his days as a frontier marshal. As one account observed, by the time of his death “he was perhaps more well known for his decision in the title fight than his actions at the O.K. Corral gunfight.” This indicates just how deeply the 1896 fight had permeated the public consciousness. For a man who had survived deadly gunfights and vigilante notoriety, it was the boxing ring that dealt Earp’s image a blow he couldn’t shake off in his lifetime. In the decades after, the tale of Wyatt Earp’s refereeing fiasco remained a topic of debate among boxing historians and Old West enthusiasts alike – an “ugly blemish on the complexion of Wyatt Earp,” as one modern writer put it. Some continued to argue Earp might have made an honest (if mistaken) call, but the prevailing view has long been that the fight was a fixed sham and Earp’s name was rightly tarnished by it.

Over time, as Hollywood movies and sympathetic biographies resurrected Wyatt Earp as an iconic Western hero, the memory of the Sharkey–Fitzsimmons fight began to fade for the general public. Yet historians always mention it as a curious chapter in Earp’s life, illustrating that this legendary lawman wasn’t immune to controversy outside the Wild West. It took many years for Earp’s lawman legacy to be disentangled from the boxing scandal in the public mind. Today, the 1896 fight is remembered as a notorious episode in both sports and Wild West history. It serves as a reminder that Wyatt Earp’s life after Tombstone was full of unexpected turns – including a night in San Francisco when, as a boxing referee, his decision sparked an uproar and nearly knocked out his legend for good.

Sources:

  • Bob Fitzsimmons vs. Tom Sharkey fight details and aftermath (Wikipedia)
  • Contemporary newspaper reactions (San Francisco Call and others) as cited in Earp biographies
  • Sean Crose, The Fight City: “The Fight That Haunted Wyatt Earp” (2024) – narrative of the fight and its legacy
  • True West Magazine: “The Fix” by Garner Palenske (2016) – historical analysis of the fight and Earp’s later comments.

If I were a horny toad, I would want my name to be Tony.

Desert Horned Lizard – Phrynosoma platyrhinos
Family: Phrynosomatidae Order: Squamata Class: Reptilia

Tony is a solid name–tough and simple, like a horned lizard should be. I would pass my days soaking up the blistering desert sun, digging in the sand, and waiting for ants, which are my main source of sustenance. Life in the desert is harsh, but I would be ready. My large, flat body and sandy hue would keep me concealed, and if I ever found myself in a jam, I would have a few tricks up my sleeve. First, I would freeze, hoping my camouflage would save me. If that failed, I’d puff up to make myself big and hard to swallow. And if a predator actually went ahead and made a lunge to bite, I’d use my last trick—one that only the most powerful horned lizards can manage. I would shoot a little blood out of my eyes, just enough to make an attacker think twice about biting. But honestly, I would not wish to be a bother. I would stay in my own corner of desert, enjoying the hot sun, an occasional gentle breeze, and the ever-present plenty of ants which are my sustenance. Life as Tony the Horny Toad would be uncomplicated, peaceful, and appropriate to the one place I would ever need—the wide, open desert.

AI Report: Object-Oriented Programming (OOP) Representation of a Horse and Cart

This made for an interesting morning of coffee and gummies. I might be getting another dog. It is lonely here on the asteroid.

Overview:

This discussion explores modeling a horse and cart as objects using Object-Oriented Programming (OOP) principles. It covers defining attributes (fields/state), behaviors (methods), and their relationship, particularly when the horse pulls or detaches from the cart.


1. Initial Concept – Software Object Representation

  • The conversation began with an explanation of software objects in OOP, defining them as entities encapsulating both fields (state) and methods (behavior).
  • A general software object diagram was provided to illustrate the concept.

2. Horse as a Software Object

  • The horse was modeled as an object with:
    • Fields (State): Color, breed, age, speed, running status.
    • Methods (Behavior): run(), stop(), neigh(), eat().
  • A visual representation was generated to illustrate this concept.

3. Cart as a Software Object

  • The cart was modeled as an object with:
    • Fields (State): Material, wheels, capacity, color.
    • Methods (Behavior): move(), stop(), load(), unload().
  • A corresponding visual was generated.

4. Relationship Between Horse and Cart

  • The relationship was established where the horse pulls the cart.
  • The horse has a pull(cart) method, and the cart’s movement depends on whether it is attached to the horse.
  • A visual representation was generated showing this relationship.

5. Transition to a Bucking Bronco

  • The scenario was adjusted to depict the horse as a bucking bronco, modifying its behavior:
    • New Methods (Behavior): buck(), kick() (in addition to run(), stop(), neigh()).
    • The detaches() method was introduced to allow the cart to become disconnected when the horse bucks.
  • The updated relationship was illustrated with a new visual representation.

6. Code Representation of the Relationship

  • A Python implementation was provided, demonstrating:
    • The Cart class with methods to attach, detach, and store attributes.
    • The Horse class with methods to pull, buck, and interact with the cart.
    • The relationship where the horse pulls the cart when attached but detaches it upon bucking.
  • Example output of how the objects interact was included.

Conclusion:
The conversation effectively modeled a real-world system using OOP principles, highlighting how objects interact dynamically. The transition from a standard horse to a bucking bronco demonstrated flexibility in design, adapting object behaviors based on context.

This discussion provided conceptual diagrams and practical code to reinforce the learning process.

Historians

Historians can be categorized based on their approach, audience, and purpose. Here’s a general breakdown from the most scholarly to the most narrative-driven:

  1. Academic Historians – These are professional historians, usually with PhDs, who conduct original research, publish in peer-reviewed journals, and contribute to the academic study of history. Their work is often theoretical, analytical, and deeply sourced.
    • Example: A university professor writing a book on frontier economics based on archival records.
  2. Public Historians – These historians work outside academia, often in museums, historic sites, archives, or government agencies. They focus on making history accessible and engaging for the public while maintaining scholarly rigor.
    • Example: A historian curating an exhibit at a history museum or writing an interpretive panel at a historic site.
  3. Popular Historians – Writers who produce history books intended for general audiences. They may have academic training but prioritize readability and engagement over deep historiographical debates.
    • Example: A bestselling author writing about the California Gold Rush in a way that appeals to casual readers.
  4. Journalistic Historians – These historians approach history with a journalist’s eye, emphasizing compelling storytelling, investigative research, and connections to current events.
    • Example: A journalist writing a book on the Dust Bowl using interviews, personal stories, and archival research.
  5. Historical Novelists – Writers who blend history with fiction, using real events, places, and people but taking creative liberties to fill in gaps or enhance the story.
    • Example: A novelist writing about a fictional prospector in Bodie during its boom years.
  6. Folk Historians / Local Historians – These are individuals, often self-taught or community-based, who preserve and share regional or family histories. They rely on oral traditions, personal research, and local records.
    • Example: A longtime resident documenting the history of a small Mojave Desert town through interviews and old photos.
  7. Storytellers / Mythmakers – These historians focus on lore, legends, and dramatized history. Their accounts may be based on real events but are often embellished or fictionalized for entertainment.
    • Example: A storyteller spinning tales of Death Valley Scotty’s hidden gold in a campfire setting.

Each type plays a role in how history is understood and shared. Academic historians establish the facts, public historians interpret them, popular historians make them engaging, and storytellers keep them alive in culture.

Trivia Peddling

For generations, history classes have been bogged down by rote memorization-names, dates, and events drilled into students’ heads with little thought given to why any of it matters. Even today, many history teachers and local historians lean too heavily on disjointed facts instead of using them to build meaningful narratives that explain historical significance.

History isn’t just a giant list of trivia; it’s a web of interconnected stories shaped by social, political, and economic forces. A single event doesn’t exist in isolation—it has context, causes, and consequences. Without these connections, history is reduced to a collection of random tidbits, stripped of its power to help us understand the past, present, and future.

This is where public historians—whether in classrooms or local museums—have a real responsibility. Their job isn’t just to present facts but to interpret them, to connect the dots, and to explain why something matters. Trivia peddling is easy; real historical work is harder. It demands analysis, evaluation, and critical thinking. It also requires acknowledging complexity, contradictions, and uncomfortable truths.

And here’s a tough one: not everything that’s old is historically valuable. Sometimes, old stuff is just junk. Not every weathered building or faded document holds significance. Just because something has been around for a long time doesn’t mean it shaped history in a meaningful way. The real test is simple: So what?

That’s the question local historians should always ask. Why does this story, this place, or this artifact matter? How does it fit into the larger historical picture? If we can’t answer that, we aren’t doing history—we’re just collecting trivia.

Spirit

The Mojave is a proving ground and gathering place, changing those who move through it alone and in community. It boils life down to its essence—heat, wind, rock, and sky—compelling individuals to face themselves in ways they never have before. In conflict, some individuals discover definitive answers, others find questions, and most sense a connection to something greater than themselves.

To the Indigenous people, the land is sacred, with spirits and tales. Springs, rock etchings, and ancient trails indicate sites for ceremony and connection, where individuals sought visions and where the community reinforced common beliefs. Treasure hunters, travelers, and outlaws found their own beliefs later–whether in luck, omens, or the promise of vast fortune. The desert has always been a place where people feel their faith, shaped by the quiet and the open space that appears to go on forever.

Socially, the Mojave has brought together people who are seeking diverse things. From campfire stories to new-age spiritual retreats, from the alien ambiance of the Integratron to the shared awe of a meteor shower over Joshua Tree, individuals have congregated to experience something unspoken but profoundly sensed. Even in solitude, there is community–rock circles, roadside shrines, and invisible footprints signal that someone else has passed through, leaving their own faint imprint.

In its nature, the Mojave is a mirror. It reflects back what a person has inside–hope, desire, belief, or fear. Some see a wasteland, and some see a haven. Some leave the same, and some are transformed. Whether contemplating alone or together, the desert is the same: a place where meaning is created, where faith and doubt are tried, and where the silence, in its own voice, speaks.

El Gobernador

El Gobernador was a steam locomotive built for the Union Pacific in 1885. It was one of the largest locomotives of its time, designed specifically to handle heavy trains on difficult terrain.

Key facts about El Gobernador:

  • It was a 4-10-0 type locomotive, featuring four leading wheels and ten driving wheels.
  • The design aimed to provide greater traction for hauling freight trains over steep grades on the Union Pacific network.
  • Due to its size and weight, it encountered operational problems, such as excessive rail wear and difficulty navigating curves.
  • Despite its power, the locomotive was not a success and was retired after only a few years of service.

El Gobernador is an example of 19th-century railroad companies’ efforts to build more powerful locomotives to accommodate increasing rail traffic. However, not all innovations proved practical in the long run.

El Gobernador proved a few important things about locomotive design and rail operations in the 19th century:

  1. Bigger Isn’t Always Better – The locomotive was built to be powerful, but its massive size and weight caused operational issues, like excessive rail wear and difficulty navigating curves. This showed that simply adding more wheels and power wasn’t always the best solution.
  2. Engineering Limits – The locomotive highlighted the mechanical and structural limitations of railroad technology at the time. The tracks and infrastructure couldn’t always support such a heavy locomotive, leading to inefficiencies.
  3. Experimentation Leads to Progress – Even though El Gobernador wasn’t a long-term success, its design contributed to later improvements in locomotive engineering. Railroads learned from its flaws and refined locomotive designs to balance power, efficiency, and practicality.
  4. Specialization is Key – Instead of using oversized locomotives for all tasks, railroads moved toward specialized locomotives designed for specific terrains and train types, improving overall efficiency.

In short, El Gobernador was an ambitious experiment that demonstrated the need for balance between power and practicality in locomotive design. It helped shape the future of rail technology by showing what worked—and what didn’t.

The Mormon War

The Mormon War (Utah War) of 1857–58 was a conflict between the U.S. government and the Mormons in Utah Territory, though it never escalated into full-scale fighting. President Buchanan, concerned that Brigham Young was prioritizing church laws over U.S. laws, replaced him as territorial governor and sent a military force led by Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston to enforce federal authority. In response, Young declared martial law, mobilized the Mormon militia, and recalled Mormon settlers from surrounding regions. Harsh winter conditions delayed the U.S. Army’s arrival, allowing time for negotiations, which ultimately resolved the dispute peacefully.

Mormon Fort
Mountain Meadows
Map of Lower Colorado River in 1850s
Steamship Explorer

During this period, tensions were high, especially following the Mountain Meadows Massacre in 1857, which contributed to fears of conflict and influenced emigrant routes. Meanwhile, the Mormons were also exploring and attempting to expand their influence along the lower Colorado River. They hoped to establish an outlet to the sea for trade, increase missionary efforts among Native American groups, and prepare for possible military threats.

Eldorado Canyon

In Las Vegas, Nevada, Mormon missionaries established a mission in 1855 at Las Vegas Springs and explored the Colorado River’s navigability. Early expeditions, such as those led by Rufus Allan and later groups, scouted the river and surrounding lands but found the river largely unnavigable. With the rising tension between Mormons and the U.S. military, Jacob Hamblin and other Mormon scouts, including Ira Hatch and Dudley Leavitt, conducted reconnaissance on U.S. Army activities, believing an invasion was imminent. One Mormon spy, Thales Haskell, was caught aboard the military survey steamer Explorer but provided misleading information about alternative California routes.

Fearing a federal attack from the south, Apostle Amasa M. Lyman led an expedition in 1858 to identify a defensive site near Pyramid Canyon, though no battle materialized. They concluded that Eldorado Canyon was the furthest feasible point for navigation. Ultimately, the anticipated invasion never came, and tensions eased.

Lake Manix

Lake Manix – Coyote Arm

The Coyote Arm of Lake Manix refers to a western extension of the ancient lake, reaching into what is now the Coyote Basin area. During the lake’s high stands, this arm would have been a shallow extension of the main body of water, influenced by the surrounding topography and hydrology.

As Lake Manix formed during the Pleistocene, its extent fluctuated with climate changes. At its peak, it covered over 90 square miles and was fed by the Mojave River. The Coyote Arm, like other sections of the lake, would have played a role in shaping local sediment deposition and ecosystems. When Lake Manix eventually breached at Afton Canyon, draining down the ancestral Mojave River path, the Coyote Arm would have dried up along with the rest of the lake, leaving behind alluvial deposits, clay beds, and evidence of past shorelines.

Afton Canyon

This area is now part of the Mojave Desert, with remnants of Lake Manix’s history visible in fossilized shorelines, lacustrine sediments, and scattered Pleistocene fossils.