Who Are Nevada's Counties Named For? Part 1

 

Sylvester Churchill — namesake for Churchill County

  In the beginning, there were nine. Three years later, there were eleven. A little more than decade later, their number had grown by four more, and eventually there were 17.

  They are Nevada’s counties, and while few in number compared to states like Texas, which has 254, or Georgia, which has 159, they include several of the largest counties in the nation in terms of size, such as Nye, which is 18,147 square miles (third biggest in the U.S.), and Elko, which is 17,182 square miles (fourth biggest).

  The original nine counties were established in 1861, when the Nevada Territory was created. These nine jurisdictions included Churchill, Douglas, Esmeralda, Humboldt, Lake (renamed Roop a year later), Lyon, Ormsby, Storey and Washoe.

  Three years later, when Nevada gained statehood, two additional counties, Nye and Lander, were created (carved from Esmeralda). Over the next decade four more counties were organized including Lincoln (1866), Elko and White Pine (1869) followed by Eureka (1873). In 1889, Lake/Roop was dissolved because of its tiny population and consolidated into Washoe County.

  The early 20th century saw the creation of three more counties, Clark (1909), Mineral (1911), and Pershing (1919). The last major change in terms of county structures occurred in 1969, when Ormsby County merged with Carson City to become the state’s only consolidated city-county government.

  There was, also, a unique county that only existed for brief time, which was Bullfrog County. This tiny square of land carved out of Nye County was a political jurisdiction created by the Nevada legislature in 1987 in order to maximize the state’s ability to extract funding from the Federal Government in case a national nuclear waste facility opened at Yucca Mountain (which was inside Bullfrog County).

  Nye County officials, however, filed a successful lawsuit to stop the county’s creation and two years later the legislature repealed the law that created Bullfrog County.

  Looking at the names of the state’s 16 counties and 1 combined county-city, at least one is pretty easy to place. Lincoln is obviously named for President Abraham Lincoln, who approved Nevada’s statehood but who or what were the others named after?

  The following are the stories behind the names for a handful of the rest of Nevada’s counties:

  • Churchill County was named in honor of Sylvester Churchill (1783-1862), who served during the War of 1812 and the Mexican-American War of 1846-48. He was cited for his actions during the Battle of Buena Vista during the latter and promoted to the rank of brevet brigadier general. He served as Inspector General of the Regular Army for two decades.

  • Douglas County was named to honor Illinois Senator Stephen A. Douglas, who was the Democratic Party nominee against Abraham Lincoln (the Republican Party nominee) in the presidential election of 1860. In spite of his defeat, Douglas rallied his supporters to the Union (Lincoln’s) cause when the Civil War broke out in April 1861 but died a few weeks later of typhoid.

  • Esmeralda is the Spanish and Portuguese word for emerald and the county’s name was derived from the successful Esmeralda Mining District. According to some sources, an early miner, James Manning Cory, named the mining district after the Gypsy dancer, Esmeralda, in the Victor Hugo novel, “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

  • Humboldt County was named after the Humboldt River, which winds through the county. The river, in turn, was named after Alexander Von Humboldt, a famous German naturalist who had explored South and Central America. Explorer John C. Fremont named the river in honor of a man he admired.

  • Lake County was named because of the many lakes in the region, including Honey Lake, Pyramid Lake, and Winnemucca Lake. It originally included Susanville, California, since the boundary between Nevada and California was poorly delineated in the act that created the Nevada Territory. The matter wasn’t resolved until 1864, when a joint California-Nevada boundary survey determined that the Honey Lake area, including Susanville, were located inside California’s boundaries.

  • Roop County was the name given to Lake County in 1862. The new name honored Isaac Roop, first provisional governor of the proposed Nevada Territory, who was the leader of an unsuccessful effort to join Honey Lake Valley with the Nevada Territory.

  Next week: the stories behind the names for the rest of Nevada’s counties.

Virginia City Has Never Shied Away From a Good Tall Tale

 

  According to a popular legend, the historic Nevada mining town of Virginia City earned its name when one of its founders, Old Virginny stumbled, broke a bottle of whiskey he was carrying, and christened the town in honor of his home state of Virginia.

  The story probably isn’t true but it illustrates that a large part of what makes Virginia City such a colorful places is because the line between fact and fiction is often blurred. In Virginia City, if a story is repeated often enough, it becomes the truth.

  Consider the story of the Suicide Table in the Delta Saloon at 18 South C Street. A sign posted above the dusty green felt table somberly noted that in the 19th century about a half dozen people died by their own hand as a result of gambling losses while playing cards at the table.

  The Suicide Table was featured on several national television shows, including “Ripley’s Believe It or Not,” and the legend has been repeated in just about every travel article and book about Virginia City.

  Is this tale true? Most likely it is not—but since no one alive can refute the story it has become the accepted version of reality.

  There’s not even agreement on the name of the allegedly clumsy, inebriated fellow who broke the bottle of whiskey that got the town started. Some history books call him James Fennimore while others refer to him as James Finney. All, however, agree that his nickname was “Old Virginny” and he hailed from the Old Dominion State.

  Additionally, some historians believe the whole christening story is a concoction and that the city was named in honor of “Old Virginny” because he was one of the earliest and most respected residents.

  Not even Henry Comstock—the man who gave his name to the Comstock Lode, the big mining discovery that sparked the Virginia City mining boom—is immune from the legend-makers. In many books he is referred to as “Old Pancake,” although he was apparently never called that during his lifetime and no one is certain he even liked pancakes?

  Over the years, the mines of Virginia City would produce millions of dollars in gold and silver. During its heyday in the mid to late 19th century, Virginia City was one of the more cosmopolitan cities in the West. In addition to having thousands of residents, the town had an opera house, elegant hotels, banks, businesses, restaurants and churches.

  Despite a disastrous fire in 1875, which destroyed much of the community, Virginia City has survived into the 20th century with most of its 19th century charm and appearance intact. Walking its uneven wooden sidewalks under drooping awnings, you can imagine you’re retracing the footsteps of Old Virginny or some other Comstock legend.

  The false store fronts and Victorian-style homes on the steep hills of the town haven’t changed much since the days when a young Sam Clemens began writing for a local newspaper under the pen name Mark Twain (of course, there are so many versions of the story of how he came by that name that no one will ever know the real story behind that one).

  Wandering Virginia City, you can find plenty of other places of legend. For instance, there’s one about two houses built so close together that one is known as the Spite House because, it is said, the owner was angry at his neighbor and wanted to block his view (this story is apparently also not true).

  There are also tales about a prostitute named Julia Bulette, who was murdered (true) but over the years was transformed into a Comstock icon. According to some of the legends, she had royal blood, traveled the city in a fine carriage, tossed gold coins to orphans and ministered to the sick—kind of a red light district Queen Florence Nightingale.

  In the end, the real fun about visiting Virginia City isn't just learning about its fanciful legends. It’s being in a place that has managed to hang on to so much of its history and character—which is saying something these days when nearly every community has begun to look the same as all of the others.

Remembering the Marvelous Mapes Hotel

Mapes Hotel in 1955

Mapes site in February 2000

   When I arrived in Reno in the early 1980s, one of the most impressive structures in the city was the art-deco-styled Mapes Hotel on South Virginia Street, adjacent to the Truckee River.

   With its logo sign depicting two cowboys (who formed an M) and two-tone white concrete and red-brick exterior topped with neat spires, the 12-story hotel had a certain “coolness” factor.

   The hotel was still open when I came to town. I recall friends telling me it was where the movie stars stayed while filming “The Misfits” in 1961 and it had once been the tallest building in the state.

   I remember riding the elevator to the Sky Room, just to see the view, and just wandering through the place soaking in the smoky ambience.

   Then, about a year after I moved to Reno, it abruptly closed. At the time, I was a reporter at the Reno newspapers and wrote a few stories about the efforts to sell it. I remember even getting a tour of the shuttered hotel on the one-year anniversary of its closing with a bank official and writing a piece about the property’s uncertain future.

   In my story, I compared the old hotel to Blanche DuBois, a character in Tennessee Williams’ classic play, “A Streetcar Named Desire,” who famously had proclaimed, “I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.” The same was true for the hotel.

   Interestingly, while the hotel had looked a bit old-fashioned with its Art Deco design—at least to the 20-something me—it really wasn’t all that old when it closed. The Mapes had been built in 1947—only about 35 years before it went out of business.

   History books, such as Patty Cafferata’s excellent "The Mapes Hotel and Casino: The History of Reno’s Landmark Hotel," note that the property was the brainchild of wealthy rancher Charles Mapes Sr., who, in 1937, purchased the east corner lot on North Virginia and First streets.

   It was his intention to build a fine hotel on the property to honor his father, George, who, he believed, had once operated a grain store on the site. Unfortunately, Mapes died before he had a chance to build the hotel and the other family members delayed construction with the outbreak of World War II.

   Immediately after the war ended, Charles Mapes Jr., along with his mother, Gladys, and sister, Gloria, moved ahead with the project. The old federal building and post office sitting on the site was demolished and, in January 1946, work began on the brick and concrete structure that would combine an elegant Art Deco design with modern building techniques.

   In planning the hotel, Charles Mapes Jr. specifically decided it would be a dozen stories because that would make it the tallest building in the state—and definitely taller than anything in Las Vegas at the time.

   According to Cafferata, the younger Mapes also reasoned that he could keep that distinction for awhile because no casino would ever build a 13-story tower (13 being an unlucky number) and erecting a 14-story building would be considerably more expensive.

   The Mapes Hotel officially opened on December 17, 1947 with much fanfare. In addition to a full house of locals, the hotel’s guests that night include actor Johnny Weissmuller (star of the "Tarzan" movies) and San Francisco columnist Herb Caen.

   Over the decades, the Mapes served as the host hotel for the cast of "The Misfits," including Marilyn Monroe, Clark Gable, and Montgomery Clift. It also presented performances by various prominent entertainers of the era, ranging from Mae West to Sammy Davis Jr.

   Additionally, over the years many celebrity guests stayed at the Mapes, including John Wayne, Mickey Rooney and Frank Sinatra. As Reno's toniest joint, it played host to a number of high profile promotions, film premieres and other special events.

   The party, however, came to an sudden and unexpected end on December 17, 1982. Charles Mapes Jr. had invested heavily in another downtown Reno casino, the Mapes Money Tree, which had failed, and he had been forced into bankruptcy.

   The hotel’s fate remained uncertain for another 18 years as many proposals came and went. Finally, the city of Reno bought the property for $4 million with plans to convert it to a timeshare project.

   When that failed to materialize, the Reno City Council voted in 1999 to demolish the hotel—despite the fact that there were other proposals on the table and the building was listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

   In spite of considerable local opposition, the council moved quickly to implode the building—even though it had no immediate plan for what to do with the site (it has since been used as an urban park and, at times, as a seasonal ice skating rink).

   The structure was destroyed on January 30, 2000. It was the first building on the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s List of Eleven Most Endangered Sites to ever be demolished.

Mining Camp Memoir Provides Glimpses of Goldfield's Past

Prospectors buying supplies in a Goldfield mercantile in the early 20th century.

   Every once in a while, you stumble onto a Nevada-related book that you wonder why you had never encountered it before. Sometimes it’s a book that’s been around for a long time, but never quite crossed your path.

   For me, one such book is Frank A. Crampton’s 1956 autobiography, “Deep Enough: A Working Stiff in the Western Mining Camps.”

   For some reason, I was not aware of Crampton or his book, until it was mentioned recently on a ghost town blog and piqued my interest. I found a copy of a more-recent reprint of the book and was pleasantly surprised that it was a fun and informative read.

   While Crampton was born to a socially-prominent family in New York City, he decided to make his way in the world as a hard-rock miner. One of the first places he works was in the Nevada mining town of Goldfield in the early part of the 20th century.

   His descriptions of that mining community’s glory days are descriptive and revealing.

   “Goldfield was the last of the great gold boom camps and had about reached the pinnacle of its productive new wealth when I landed there,” he wrote. “In Goldfield were characters from all parts of the world. The hard-rock miners and other working stiffs were the foundation and hard core.”

   “There were business men from the East and the Pacific Coasting, wanting to take a flyer, but for the most part being taken,” he continued. “There were promoters whose shrewd manipulations made grubstakes for themselves, but milked dry the savings of the credulous who wanted to become wealthy overnight but lost it all.”

   Along the way, Crampton encountered various colorful figures, whose names have become legendary in the Silver State. For example, he knew Shorty Harris, the prospector responsible for the brief boom in a mining camp called Bullfrog.

   “Shorty was looking for another Goldfield. He thought he had found it one-time, and so did a lot of others, and a boom got under way at Bullfrog,” he wrote. “Shorty’s gold outcrop at Bullfrog gave out too soon, and with it his boom camp.”

   Another famous or infamous figure he knew was Walter “Death Valley Scotty” Scott. Crampton wrote somewhat disparagingly about Scott, who was known for “salting” his mining holdings with bits of gold from other mines in order to attract investors.

   During his time in Goldfield, Crampton became a successful assayer and surveyor. He also was a witness to one of the seminal moments in Nevada sporting history, attending the championship fight between Joe Gans and “Battling” Nelson in 1906, which lasted an incredible 42 rounds.

   “No fight that I have seen since has equaled it in any way,” he recalled. “It was a fight from start to finish and not once did either man let up trying to knock the other out. Fight fans got more than their money’s worth.”

   A particularly interesting chapter in the book is devoted to his brief infatuation with an attractive young woman working in one of Goldfield’s “cribs.” After striking up a friendship with the woman, she suddenly disappears from the camp. Several months later, after Crampton had relocated to Oakland, California, to recuperate from illness, he unexpectedly encounters the woman with her husband. It makes for a fascinating read.

   That young woman, in fact, is the reason that Crampton never returned to Goldfield.

   “I didn’t want to return to Goldfield. There was nothing there that urged me to return. My experience with the girl of the crib would bring back memories that I preferred to forget. Goldfield would remind me of her,” he wrote.

   Ultimately, Crampton was presented with another mining business proposition in California, which he decided to pursue. He sold his Goldfield business and moved on to mining camps in Arizona, Colorado, Montana, and other places, before becoming an engineer and prominent political advisor.

   “Deep Enough” by Frank A. Crampton remains in print (from the University of Oklahoma Press) and can be found at most online bookstores.

Historical Roadtripping Through Carson Valley

Mormon Station State Park

  Carson Valley is one of Nevada’s most special places. Intersected by the Emigrant Trail—the route that many early pioneers used to travel to California—the lush, green valley was among the earliest places settled in the future Silver State.

  In the 1850s, a correspondent for a San Francisco newspaper was so taken by the valley’s fertile grasslands—which were ideal for grazing horses and cattle—that he described it as a “paradise for quadrupeds.” (catchy slogan!).

  The first permanent settlement in the valley was Genoa, which was founded by Mormon traders in 1851. Additionally, a handful of other, mostly forgotten, hamlets sprouted along the valley’s western edge, in the shadow of the Sierra Nevada range. These communities, with names like Mottsville, Sheridan, Fairview and Centerville, catered to travelers.

  But while these town names are largely gone, it’s still possible to retrace the route along the valley’s west side and, despite recent development, catch glimpses of the region that carried such appeal for the pioneers.

  The best place to start the journey is at the intersection of U.S. 395 and State Route 206 (Jack’s Valley Road), located about 5 miles south of Carson City. The road initially runs west toward the mountains, through a largely residential area.

  A few miles along, the road gradually turns south, passing by beautiful pasturelands that bump up against the mountains. The road passes 20th century developments on the outskirts of Genoa, such as Genoa Lakes, and others.

  In a few places, however, the old Carson Valley peeks through. For instance, a few miles before Genoa, hidden in tall trees below the road, is the historic Rufus Adams House.

  Built in the early 1850s, the two-story, white-pillared brick structure, which boasts 22 rooms, was once a hotel for travelers on the Immigrant Trail. Today, it remains a private residence.

  The road continues through picturesque Genoa, a community filled with historic homes and buildings as well as the Mormon Station State Historic Park, a replica of the state’s first permanent structure. The park boasts a beautiful picnic area in a quaint setting.

  From Genoa, the route passes Walley’s Hot Springs Resort and the area begins to lose a bit of its built-up character, offering views of open grasslands and beautiful mountain peaks.

  Farther south, the road, now called Foothill Road, passes Van Sickle Station, site of what was once the largest hotel on the trail. Built by Henry Van Sickle in 1857, over the years it served as a trading post, freight station, Pony Express station and stagecoach stop.

  Today, it’s a state park facility. Several of the original buildings remain standing.

  A little farther up the road is the site of old Kingsbury Grade road (an historic marker notes the spot). While earlier called the Georgetown Trail and Dagget Pass Trail, it became known as Kingsbury Grade in honor of one of the builders of an 1860 wagon road that crossed the Sierra range here. A mile farther is modern-day Kingsbury Grade.

  Six miles south of Genoa is a sign noting the former location of Mottsville. The settlement was named for Hiram Mott, an early Carson Valley rancher.

  The Mott family was prominent in early Nevada history. Hiram Mott’s daughter-in-law, Eliza, was one of the first non-Indian women to settle in the state. The Mottsville Cemetery, which is still there, was among the state’s first cemeteries, having been established in 1857.

  A few miles farther south is the former site of Sheridan (another historic marker notes the site). Founded as a general store for travelers in 1855 by Moses Job (namesake for nearby Job’s Peak, the tall mountain to the west), within a few years a town grew up on the site.

  For a brief time, Sheridan was the largest community in Carson Valley, but by the late 1890s, it had begun to decline. Today, only a handful of original structures can still be found hidden amongst newer houses.

  From here, the road passes a handful of small farms and plenty of open land. It’s pretty country that speaks of the kind of place most of the Carson Valley was once.

  About 30 miles from where the journey began, the road turns east and ends at State Route 88. From here, you can return north to U.S. 395 at Minden or head south to Markleeville, California.

Austin's Historic Courthouse was the Site of Lander County's First Legal Hanging

Lander County Courthouse today

   A few years before the historic, brick Lander County Courthouse in Austin was erected in 1872, an earlier wooden structure with a courtyard stood on the site. That courtyard, in fact, was the location of the county’s first legal hanging on October 30, 1868.

   The man who was hanged was Rufus Britton Anderson, a 21-year-old relative newcomer to Austin (one newspaper account said he had only been in town for a few months). He apparently came to Austin because his mother had remarried [she was now known as Mrs. Zottman] and moved there earlier.

   According to an account in the San Francisco Chronicle on the day of his hanging, Anderson had previously lived in San Francisco and went by the name Johnny Callahan. The newspaper noted that while living there Anderson and another youth had been implicated in the killing of a Chinese man.

   He remained in jail for several months before being discharged without any charges. More than a few media outlets suggested that Anderson had been released after agreeing to testify against is co-conspirator.

   The Chronicle said Anderson, described as hot-tempered, had been attending school in Austin. He also had, for several days, “been uttering terrible threats against his step-father [who by then had separated from his mother], brother-in-law, and even his sister, appearing more like a fiend than a human being.”

   On the evening of May 5, 1868, Anderson joined his mother to collect money from a man named N.T. Slocum, who had been boarding with the Zottmans but had moved out when the couple separated.

   The two went to a cabin where Slocum was now living and found him with four other people, a man and his wife who were named McIntyre, and two brothers with the last name of Eggleston. Once there, Mrs. Zottman demanded Slocum pay his past-due board bill.

   Slocum said he didn’t have any money at that time, but would be able to get some the next day. Mrs. Zottman then asked Slocum if he planned to deduct work he had done for her husband from his bill, to which Slocum said he would.

   At this, Anderson apparently grew angry and said that Slocum “was no man, and had not the principles of a man about him, repeating the words several times in an insulting manner,” according to the Chronicle.

   Slocum rose from his bed, where had been sitting, and asked Anderson not to talk to him in such a way and attempted to head out the cabin door. One of the Eggleston brothers stepped between the two and said there would be no such “difficulties” in the house.

   At this, Mrs. Zottman is said to have screamed out several times, “Oh, my God! You will kill me!”

   Anderson then stepped around Eggleston, pulled out his pistol, and fired twice at Slocum. The other Eggleston brother grabbed at Anderson and knocked his arm enough so that a third shot missed Slocum and the bullet went into the cabin floor.

   “Slocum then fell toward the bed and died almost without a quiver,” the Chronicle reported. “The pistol was then wrenched from Anderson’s hand. The Eggleston brothers subdued the young man and turned him over to the authorities.

   Following a sensational trial and an appeal to the Nevada Supreme Court, which failed, Anderson was sentenced to be hung from a gallows erected in the courthouse courtyard.

   At ten minutes before 1 p.m. on October 30, he was accompanied to the top of the gallows by a Catholic priest and a deputy sheriff. After making a few remarks and asking for forgiveness, the deputy tied his hands and feet together, and then placed a noose around Anderson’s neck. When the signal was given, the drop fell and, if all had gone according to plan, he would have been executed.

   “To the horror of the crowd, the knot broke and Anderson lay stretched senseless upon the ground,” the Chronicle said. “The crowd uttered a wild cry and attempted to rush for the spot, but were kept back by the militia.”

   Anderson was revived and taken back to the top of the gallows to be hung again. Everything was repeated—and again the knot broke, with the young man slamming into the ground.

   Senseless, he was carried to a chair on the gallows and again the authorities tried to fix the knot.

   “His face was livid with the terrible suffering he had endured,” the newspaper said. “And a feeling of sympathy for the unfortunate young man was freely expressed by the crowd in attendance.”

   But authorities were determined to hang him, which they managed to successfully achieve on the third try.

   “And thus ended the career of a young man who, but for evil associations, might have been a useful member of the community,” the Chronicle concluded.

   Today, visitors to the Austin courthouse will find a small display reprinting a newspaper article about the twice-botched execution of Rufus B. Anderson.

Once Forgotten Paintings Offer Glimpses of Pioche's Past

Historic Lincoln County Courthouse, where the Schofield paintings can be found

   It’s not often that a discovery in an old shed in a remote rural Nevada town opens a window into the past of that community.

   But that’s exactly what happened in 1950, when local residents Vern and Mary Smith decided to clean out an old shed that appeared to be filled with old papers and documents.

   The Smiths were excited when they first uncovered a box of tarnished silver, but even more so when they found more than two dozen sheets of art paper, all about the size of typing paper, containing various scenes painted in water color.

   Believing they had discovered something potentially valuable, Mary Smith stored them carefully, occasionally showing them to friends and acquaintances over the next several decades.

   In the 1980s, the Nevada Historical Society learned of their existence and helped to identify the artist, Robert G. Schofield, and figure out who he was and how the paintings came to be in the shed.

   It had turned out the Smiths had purchased Schofield’s former home, located on Hoffman Street in Pioche. Schofield was an Englishman who traveled to the mining town of Pioche in about 1870.

   A sort of jack-of-all-trades type, Schofield was skilled as a watchmaker, jeweler engraver, sign maker, French teacher and house painter. He also is said to have liked writing poetry in his spare time—and he dabbled in drawing and painting watercolors.

   It’s the latter talent that has given Schofield a certain fame far beyond his lifetime. Between about 1878 and 1913, Schofield painted a number of watercolors capturing the landscape and life of several of Eastern Nevada’s mining camps.

   The late Jim McCormick, a longtime University of Nevada, Reno art professor, who has studied Schofield’s works, has written that the artist is somewhat unique because he used art paper that was rarely larger than the size of a piece of typing paper and painted with “short, almost fussy” brushstrokes that seemed to echo the work of the French impressionists.

   Schofield’s colors were subtle and muted rather than bold and bright, which McCormick said may have been because of the limited range of paint pigments available at the time.

   What makes the story of the Schofield paintings perhaps more remarkable, however, is he apparently painted them for his own pleasure so their existence wasn’t known until they were re-discovered by the Smiths, who had been savvy enough to recognize their historical value.

   In addition to identifying Schofield’s identity, the historical society also had the paintings professionally photographed and preserved. The Smiths eventually donated the paintings to the Lincoln County Historical Museum, which loaned them in 2000 to the historical society in Reno for an exhibition.

   The 28 Schofield paintings provide a rare look at Eastern Nevada more than a century ago. Scenes include views of some of the buildings, some street scenes and landscapes around Pioche as well as depictions of the mining towns of Eureka, Cherry Creek and Taylor (the last two are now ghost towns).

   McCormick, who served as curator of the Schofield exhibition, noted that in some paintings the artist “provided the viewer with panoramic views of these towns; in others he created more intimate street scenes with people, animals and wagons.”

   Schofield, who was born in 1838, worked in Pioche for several years and bounced around other Nevada mining camps before returning to Lincoln County. According to Nevada historian Phillip I. Earl, Schofield was involved in Lincoln County politics for a time, but lost a race for county surveyor in 1874 and one for county clerk in 1892.

   In 1900, he was finally elected justice of the peace for the Pioche Township in an uncontested race but was defeated two years later. 

   Sadly, there was no happy ending for Schofield. Earl has written that “the last three years of Schofield’s life were bleak and tragic.” He had grown senile and was unable to work. He became a ward of the county and died in 1915. He is buried in the Pioche cemetery.

   As for his paintings, these days they can be seen displayed on the walls of the “Million Dollar Courthouse” in Pioche, which is open to the public. For more information about the courthouse, go to: https://piochenevada.com/things-to-do/million-dollar-courthouse/.