Nellie Madden Lindsay 1872-1964

Following the Gold – a Personal Memoir

Forward:

The Goldfield Historical Society is honored to present this personal memoir written by Nellie Madden Lindsay. Nellie wrote this “Letter” as a gift to her three grown daughters in 1950. She wanted them to know more about her life and times as a youngster and young woman during the early gold rush days in Nevada. Born in Reno, Nevada in 1872, she was the late child born to a large, close-knit family bitten by gold fever. Nellie was small in stature but big in heart and spirit. We will follow her thru illness, injuries, marriage and children. She was an accomplished pianist which came in mighty handy during her long life. We will see her on horseback, traveling by wagon, stage coach, truck and train. We will share good times, bad times, sad times and hard times with Nellie. This was her life. These are her words….

This priceless document and photos were gifted to the Society by Nellie’s great grandson, Craig Stotenburg of Cool, CA. The Society thanks you, Craig!

Nellie Lindsay in 1940 age 68

A LETTER TO MY THREE GIRLS

BY

Nellie Madden Lindsay

CHAPTER 1
Reno and Virginia City

First. A word or two concerning my background. Both parents – Osborn Madden (my father) and Bridget McHugh (mother) came from the Emerald Isle, from a long line of O’Maddens, McHughs, Hennessys and Irelands. My father claimed an Irishman was a good as a white man, if he behaved himself.

Originally, they lived on a farm in Wisconsin, then came the first gold excitement in California. Dad sold the farm and followed the crowd moving West, leaving Mother and two babies – Annie and Bill – to come later. He travelled by boat, I believe, but Mother crossed the plains in an oxen drawn covered wagon. She was six and a half months coming from Wisconsin to Quincy, California, their first home in the West. As travelling goes, I would say this was quite a trip. Exciting, too, I’ve heard, with the Indians at large in wide open spaces, having fun out scalp hunting (the favorite outdoor sport of that era). Three more children were born in Quincy, Jim, Francis (called Frank) and Mame.

The first move from there was to Reno, Nevada. This is where I came in – on October 25, 1872. My advent, I have heard, came as delightful surprise to the other members of a family already grown up. Most of them married. Mame, the youngest girl, was seven years my senior. This dear sister was everything to me from the day of my birth, through the years to follow. She was a self-appointed guardian, nurse and pal to me. No matter how many miles divided us, Mame was always at my side when I needed her.

The Family’s early history outline is only hearsay handed down to me by the others. From here on, I am on my own.

At the time I was born, my father was in the hotel business: Operating one hotel in Reno, the other in Virginia City. We moved to Virginia City when I was eight years old, about the time of the first gold rush to that mining camp. I have only a vague remembrance of this period of my childhood, except that we lived in Gold Hill – an extension of Virginia [City.] Here I had a long siege of sickness, diphtheria at its worst, with weeks of quarantine, a relapse, and a slow recovery.

[Sister] Frank lived in Carson, and I was taken there for a change of climate. Owing to the good care she gave me; I was soon on the way to normal health and able to travel with the folks on their way back to Reno. I will explain why they were on the move. Although my dad objected strongly to any form of gambling, he fell for the stock market with the rest of the people who were plunging recklessly in an effort to make a fortune overnight. He did some “plunging” in a big way, and – according to family history – I regret to say: “Pa lost his shirt” – also his hotel.

Back in Reno I started to school. Only one thing stands out in my memory during our short stay this time.

Richard Jose

On my way home from school the first day, I joined a group of people, old and young, standing outside the door of a blacksmith shop. They were listening to the golden voice of a young boy singing as he worked at the anvil. Not much of a setting for an artist; but, in the years to come, when this boy Richard Jose, had become a famous tenor, I am sure he never sang to a more appreciative audience.

The next time I heard Dick sing was years later when he appeared in concert at the Reno Opera House. All of his old friends got together, arranged a theatre party, and went back stage to renew acquaintance, for Auld Lang Syne: Dick proved how glad he was to see us again by taking the “gang” out for a real celebration.

I hesitate to break into this delightful reminiscing, to take you on a sightseeing trip into the wilderness; but that is the way it has to be. Now we are headed for Bodie, California, and another gold rush.

Naturally if there is any gold in “them thar” hills, the Mad Maddens must be on the spot. The chain of events in the following Chapter will undoubtedly sound like fiction to you – but I’m “telling the whole, truth and nothing but the truth”

CHAPTER 2

Bodie, California

On this never to be forgotten trip we travelled in a four-horse stage coach.

Packed in like sardines, were my mother, father, two brothers, Mame and myself, as well as the other passengers.We had two days and nights of this: rocking and bumping over unbeaten mountain roads. I don’t think “Paul Revere” had anything on us Maddens.

We arrived late at night to find the only hotel fresh out of rooms but by doubling up they managed to take care of the women. The men slept on chairs in the office. “Came the dawn”. I was up ready for the day and curious to have a look at our new home. Quietly I slipped over to a window and raised the blind. One look was plenty – I guess my screams aroused the natives.

Quietly I slipped over to a window and raised the blind. One look was plenty – I guess my screams aroused the natives.

It seems the town boys had had what was playfully termed a “necktie party” during the night, and right there, under the window, a man was hanging from the branch of a tree – swaying gracefully in the breeze. Gruesome, isn’t it? But authentic.

So much for our introduction to the rough and tough mining camp of Bodie, Calif. The beginning of what I might term my “Believe it or not” chapter.

Eventually, we found a house: Located on the main street. Where most of the buildings around us were saloons. “Cocktail Bars” to you. A more refined name perhaps, but the same idea – except that only men were served liquor at the bar with the brass rail.

Before we were even settled, a serious accident happened to me. I was badly burned by blazing grease which had caught fire in the oven. With his hand’s wrapped in wet sacks, [brother] Jim picked up the pan and threw it into the yard just as I ran past the door. Smoke of course prevented him from seeing me. Mame saved my life, by throwing a heavy coat around me to extinguish the flames. The hot grease, however was something else again. My head and face were badly burned, and I wore bandages for months. Otherwise, I was not too much the worse for the experience, and so, eventually, able to go to school.

I had a boyfriend by this time too. Our big, good-natured butcher. We established a beautiful friendship when he gave a white rabbit for a pet, and other little gifts as well. He asked me one day if I would like to take a ride some Saturday when he went out of town for supplies. I graciously accepted the invitation, only, I decided it would be more fun to go on a school day.

I knew the days he made these trips, and when I put in an appearance one morning, ready for my ride, he – naturally – thought it was with my parents’ consent – that was his mistake.

When I failed to come home from school, and investigation proved I had not been to school, the news spread like wildfire, and caused a bit of excitement in the camp. We drove into town at dusk, to find my brother organizing a “posse” to search the hills for little Nellie. Brother Jim was a red headed, aggressive type: and I do mean aggressive. My nice butcher was entirely unprepared for what followed. You see, in those days there was no such thing as a private fight; every man present entered the ring. I think it best to omit further details of the brawl. In fiction, this would be my title for such a sequence: “The Case of the Innocent Butcher”.

I have only one more Bodie incident to record. One that shocked the townspeople, even at that rough and ready period. To you it will not be quite so shocking, because on can pick up a paper in this, (the year 1950), almost any day, and read of happenings as bad, and worse. I would not even mention this affair, were it not for the personal angle involved. Here it is: briefly summarized.

A gruesome discovery was made one day, when a prospector found the body of a woman, in an old abandoned shaft. She had been decapitated, and the remains stuffed into a sack. According to the Coroner, it was a very recent crime. He asked for the cooperation of the residents, in helping to identify the corpse.

I had heard nothing of this, and when I saw so many people milling around the doorway of the morgue – which looked like any other house to me, I was curious to see what was going on, and so wedged my way in unnoticed (on account of poor lights) until it was too late to stop me. Well – “I got myself an eyeful”. Some good Samaritan carried me out and delivered me to the fond parents. I’ve often wondered why I was not kept on a leash, instead of being allowed to roam at large.

I believe this little episode was responsible for our exit – a short time later.

Could be too my early childhood sleuthing is responsible for my taste and interest in today’s bestselling literature: Mystery and Murder stories: Incidentally – the corpse was identified (without my help) as the wife of our resident Doctor.

CHAPTER 3

Reno, Nevada

Like the Capistrano swallows we are again on our way – home, to Reno.

Here Dad was appointed Supt. Of the county hospital and poor farm, located two miles from town, close to the Truckee River. A wonderful place for the sick, with attractive grounds, gardens and orchards, surrounded by acres of green fields. But as far as I was concerned, having to live there was the last straw.

Our quarters, in a wing off the main building, were so “conveniently” situated, that we couldn’t miss a thing that went on. I hated every minute I spent there. All the sickness, tragic accident cases, operations and deaths, combined with the smell of the place (chloroform and such) really made me sick. I was a complete nervous wreck within three months’ time. The Doctor gave orders to take me out of school, and find a way to keep me out doors as much as possible. Dad took care of that, by buying a pony for me. From then on it was the great open spaces for the pony and me. We managed to be home at meal time only, and the result of the experiment was all to the goo. Too good to last. After all, an education was essential, and so far, mine had been more or less neglected. So – arrangements were made to send me to the Dominican Sisters Academy in town.

In the Meantime, Mother decided to take me with her on a trip to Wisconsin, where her parents lived. Considering the “style” in which I was accustomed to travelling, you can imagine the thrill of my first railroad trip.

My Grandparents were a very old and feeble couple, cared for by an aunt. We visited with them for a week. This was the first and only time I had ever seen them. Our next stop was Galena, Ill., for a short stay with my Uncle John McHugh and family. I am rather proud of this branch of the family tree so I will list them here. Uncle John was principal of the Galena high school; his oldest daughter held the same post in Omaha, and a younger one taught music in Galena. There were two sons, one a doctor, the other an attorney, also living in Omaha, and later appointed Judge of the Supreme Court of Nebraska.

Back in Reno again, we had a busy week, preparing for school – and for an entirely new life for me. I had five years with the Sisters I loved, in peaceful surroundings of the convent, where Mother Dolores was in charge.

Mother “D” was the most brilliant person I have ever known. A wonderful artist, musician and linguist. These subjects she taught in her school. To me, she was a real Mother – gave me special attention and care, on account of my health. I had a private room next to her room and office so she could look after me at night if necessary.

Weekends I spent at home.

Our Chinese cook [at home] considered it his personal job to “fatten up the little skinny one” – as he expressed it – so my suit case was filled with a variety of eats and treats each week to take back to school with me.
Special mention is indicated here of the unusual coincidence of a lone boy, in a girl’s school. In story form I would put it this way: “Once upon a time there was a little boy, whose mother was dead, so he had to live with his father on a ranch, without companions – so far away from any school that his education was sadly neglected.” Well – Mother D heard about this – and fixed it so the boy could live with the gardener in a cottage on the grounds and attend our classes.

This little boy, believe it or not, is known today as Senator Pat McCarran, residence: Washington, D.C. Isn’t it a small world?

Mother D had to make a business trip to San Francisco one a year. I always went with her as a companion. On our last trip, after I had graduated, the greatest surprise of life awaited me in the city.

I had specialized in music during the school years, and worked hard at it hoping to make teaching my profession. However, I never dreamed I would have an opportunity to continue my study of music with a concert pianist, and teacher, rated as one of the best on the coast. At any rate, that is what happened, when Mother D took me to August Zech, and arranged for my lessons. I knew this would be a strain on the purse strings, but I was sure I could make good and pay it back in time. Sister Franck (Francis) was living in the city at this time, and the little surprise was planned between Mother D, my parents, and Frank, who make room for me in her home. I practiced four hours a day, in broken periods, at the conservatory, where a piano was provided for me.

I had been with Prof. Zech six months, when the sudden death of my brother Jim brought me home. He was accidentally shot and killed in Bodie, CA.

The shock almost killed my mother and brought on an attach of asthma from which she suffered the rest of her life. She was unable now, of course, to carry on with her part of the hospital work, so a change had to be made. Dad gave up his place at the Hospital, and bought a small house in town. I had a sign made, then sat back awaiting the “rush” that never came. Our church needed an organist, so I took over as organist and choir director. This gave me the experience I needed, but no salary. However, I thoroughly enjoyed working with a really fine Choir. A few of the neighborhood children came to me for lessons but that was the extent of my business. Perhaps I was considered too young to teach.

Nellie Age 16 – 1888

I was too young to worry though, so I took advantage of the chance to enjoy a social life with other young people, for the first time in my life. An exciting round of parties and dances – boyfriends too. I also joined a group that went in for horseback riding, as I still had the pony. We had wonderful times – we girls even rode in the parade at the race track, on Ladies’ Day at the State Fair each year. Picture me in a long full skirt, skin tight bodice and a hat with a large plume.

We rode side saddle, of course, strictly “gay 90’s”. How shocked the natives would have been at that time, to see a young lady wearing overalls, to “sit astride the sturdy steed.” Corny, isn’t it?

I recall the two biggest events of the winter season. The policemen, and firemen, each gave a big ball every year. They were strictly invitational, with transportation furnished both ways. Picture a big eight passenger sleigh driving up to the door to pick you up. Sleigh bells and everything to help out on the chorus work as we went “dashing through the snow.” Sure – this was fun; but still “no sale” as far as business was concerned. An occasional orchestra job, dance work, or work in the theatre when a road show was minus a band, was about all that came my way.

Then a school teacher I knew offered to take me home with her to meet her mother, and look the situation over in a rural district where they lived. Her mother, though seeming doubtful as to the outcome, gave me two of her children to start with – also offered me the use of her piano in case I found other willing to take a chance.

Well – the experiment turned out all right. With a pony to depend upon, distance made little difference, and I soon picked up enough pupils to warrant a trip once a week, regardless of freezing weather and snow so deep my pony could hardly plough through it.

Confidentially, I will admit this was doing it the hard way

Back to Virginia City, NV

The cast from an operetta performed at Piper’s Opera House
in Virginia City, NV
Nellie is standing far right in the photo

Then [brother] Bill wrote, telling me to come to Virginia City and try my luck. They had plenty of room for me, and I little to lose, so I took him up on it. Success at last! In a short time, I was busy, with a promising class, as well as a dancing school venture, with another girl. First, we gave private lessons, taking turns at playing and teaching: Later on, the dances were open to the public, with an orchestra for Saturday nights.

Old time dancing just as they are doing it today, as a brand-new fad. We called our square dances too – but don’t get me wrong, and imagine me singing the silly ditties, and throwing in a hula dance for good measure. Both work and pleasure were combined here; meeting fine people, earning plenty of money, and having a great time being squired around by the current boyfriend, a newspaper reporter.

Even so, it was not exactly clear skies for me. With my mind constantly on the two old people at home alone, lonely – but never complaining. After the sacrifices they had made for me, it could not be right. So – I made up my mind, suddenly, to go home, where I belonged.

CHAPTER 4

Reno and Wadsworth, NV
Grass Valley, CA

In the meantime, [sister] Frank had come back to Reno too, to take a position as Matron at the State Mental Hospital.

A unique diversion presented itself here, when I attended the Saturday night dances, given for the patients. For these poor unfortunates it was a wonderful thing, but dancing with them was not my idea of relaxation. At ten o’clock they were served with refreshments before being put to bed. Doctors, nurses and guests then danced ‘till midnight. The inmates sang danced and made speeches – some of the women wore the most fantastic outfits as all were allowed to fashion their own clothes.

Back to my problem: It looked like I was to be a failure in my home town. Then, I happened to meet a girl from Wadsworth at a party one day, who said there was no music teacher in her home town – She suggested that I take a run down there to look over the prospect.

Wadsworth was a terminal for the S.P. railroad – only a few hours ride from Reno.

I have never regretted taking her advice. The day I took a run down to Wadsworth proved to be my lucky day. I found a community of nice, friendly people, willing and anxious to help. A house-to-house survey brought me six pupils the first day, so I started out with weekly trips, and soon had a class large enough to warrant more. Dad had a small express wagon, doing odd jobs, hauling, etc., so he drove down with our excess baggage, after renting the home in Reno.

Life in Wadsworth was wonderful – all younger people and good-looking railroad boys. There was no limit to the good times we had. Most enjoyable of all were the “moonlight” dances, on a platform built out in the meadow – all night affairs. While I had to do most of the playing, there was always someone to relieve me for a few dances.

In fact, the years spent in Wadsworth I consider the happiest of my younger years. Here too I met my fate, and George [Lindsay] and I became engaged.

Annie Driscoll and Nellie

Then came another letter from [brother] Bill. He was now Superintendent of a mine in Grass Valley, California and wanted us to join him there. He said he could give Dad a job as night watchman at the mine, and wanted to do his part toward the responsibility of caring for the old folks.

A majority vote settled the question. I broke the news to my friends and pupils, and prepared to move on. The little town of Wadsworth folded up shortly after we left there (N.B. I lay no claim whatever, to my departure having been responsible for this calamity). The Terminal was moved from there to Sparks, NV

With our furniture shipped (except piano) and hotel rooms secured for our last night in Wadsworth, invitations were sent out for a dance, and farewell party, to be held in the empty house. I think this party went down in history -at least it was definitely different. Guests were notified to dress appropriately, for the latest idea in seating arrangements, meaning: free parking on the floor. Our midnight supper, served in the same style, may have been a bit awkward, but it certainly was a lot of fun – we danced until the small hours. When the same crowd were at the train next day to see us off, it looked like a convention. Amongst those present were Charlie and Francis Short, the Driscolls, and Bessie Whited – now Reading. Strange as it may seem, we all met again in Southern California after a lapse of thirty years.

Grass Valley, CA – Coming from the Nevada desert, I was thrilled at the first sight of our new home.

Grass Valley, a lovely garden spot, in the foot hills, is rightly named. I offered up a little prayer that day, that we might find this our permanent home. The reunion with [brother] Bill and his fine family made everything perfect, except for the fact that I had to leave George in Nevada. Bill insisted upon my taking a good long rest, before getting back into the business of teaching. The idea appealed to me, so I did just that.

Grass Valley – George L second Row/ Nellie Center

Our church was in need of an organist and I was glad to help out that way too. It helped me to get acquainted, so I found it much easier to make a start when the time came. Bill and his wife were always wonderful to me – and I loved their little family – it seems too bad we could not have been closer together in the later years. [Their daughters] Leora and Edna took piano lessons from me and also did some high-powered advertising for me at school. So – eventually I was accepted as one more teacher in a town where there were many others, and a share of work came my way.

Occasionally I accompanied a vocal teacher (Mrs. Renfro) in exchange for voice lessons. She kept me on later as her studio accompanist. We both had plenty of talent to work with, and gave joint recitals each year. One summer we also produced two light operas successfully. Working at this with the cast was not only a lot of fun, but it paid off in box office returns too.

[My fiancé] George [Lindsay] was now selling insurance, travelling all over the state, and he managed to get to see me once in a while. Our plans for the future were still uncertain when that big brother of mine took the situation in hand. He gave George a job as engineer at the mine, and told us to get busy on wedding arrangements. With everything under control, we were a happy pair, and immediately made plans to be married at once.

Nellie and George Lindsey wedding photo

[Sister] Mame and the boys came from Woodland, Mother Lindsay and Pearl [George’s sister] also made the trip from Nevada to be with us. We were married on May 5^th 1898, at home, [142 Colfax St, Grass Valley, CA], with only relatives and a few close friends present. We had two weeks honeymoon in San Francisco, where mother “L“ [Lindsey] and Pearl joined us the second week. Everybody had a grand time – then home again, happy, and ready to start life together, for better or worse.

I had plenty of time to carry on with my class, with mother doing most of the cooking. For six months everything was running smoothly, then poor Dad had an accident. He fell and broke his leg, while going the rounds as watchman. Recovery was slow, and he was quite lame as a result of the break – unhappy too about being unable to work. Later on, Bill set him up in a small cigar stand, which he handled nicely.

About this time George began to show signs of lung trouble, a bad cough developed and the condition failed to respond to treatments. Our doctor advised a change of climate if possible. I would not say it was convenient, but it was possible for me to go with him, as long as Bill was there to look out for parents.

CHAPTER 5

Reno (again) and Bower’s Mansion 1903

George decided to try Reno first, and luckily found work at once, as engineer on a narrow-gauge R.R. running out of Reno.

Bower’s Mansion 1970

The open cab window and fine fresh air were just the thing for him until the winter season came, with cold winds and snow. Then this kind of work was out. Next, Charlie Short put him in as manager of a road house a few miles out. Easy inside work, at a good salary. Believe me, that is all that was good about it.

I was walking around town aimlessly one day when I met an old friend, Henry Ritter. Since my childhood, he and his wife had been very close friends of our family.

After scolding me properly about not looking them up, he took me home to dinner. Our get-together was a “talking fest” that lasted most of the day, and by the time Henry took me back, and met my husband, our worries were practically a thing of the past, from a financial as well as healthful standpoint. Henry had just bought the old Bowers Mansion property located half way between Reno and Carson City. A crew of workmen were there getting the place in shape to be opened as a hotel resort.

He put George on the payroll at once, and sent him there to supervise the work, with the understanding that we were to take over and manage the hotel when it was ready.

George was completely bowled over at this piece of good luck. He never knew the real truth of the matter. Henry had let a man to go to make a place for him. The whole deal, settled in such record time, was the outcome of a secret I had confided to my friends.

After hoping and praying for a visit from the “stork”, for the past six years, I was at last going to have a baby. Taking stock of our unsettled condition at such a time, Henry was shocked – said he would have to do something about this. He certain kept his word.

I should like to say a word of two about our unusual home, the Mansion.

It was built by Sandy Bowers, who made an immense fortune in Virginia City mines. A three-story granite structure, with plate glass windows, door knobs and hinges made of solid silver (stolen long before our time). There were twelve rooms. On the first floor the high ceilings were ornamented with frescoed designs, such as you see in the elaborate movie stage sets today.

Though Sandy could neither read nor write he built a library across the small court, and filled the shelves with books. This is now used as a bar room.

The house cost $35,000.00 to build, but Henry paid only $500.00 for it. The grounds were in ruins, with the fountain and two swimming pools completely overgrown with weeds and trash; the accumulation of years.

The new resort was a success from the beginning. A perfect setting for a restful week-end, or an outing. We had a cook all summer as well as extra waiters to handle the crowd on week-ends. With Washoe lake only a few miles away we had hunters as guests all winter.

Roma Cecelia Lindsay in 1904

When it was near the time for my “blessed event” I went to Reno.

Mame Madden Campbell

[sister] Mame came to me there, as nurse and companion. I wish I could find words to express my happiness, when my lovely baby, Roma, was placed in my arms. [December 27, 1903] All mothers feel the same, no doubt, but I had waited so long, my baby was something special. Mame took me back to the Mansion when Roma was three weeks old and stayed on for a month. By this time George was feeling fine, so that worry was over.

In winter we had little to do but enjoy life in this lovely spot, but when spring came the rush started. Then the business of running a hotel took so much of my time, I had a nurse girl to take care of the baby. Roma spent her baby days out under the trees, and thrived on it, and now the one time “music teacher” did everything from making beds (and pies) to playing for impromptu dances on the outdoor platform in the grove.

Looks like a perfect picture of the happy contented American family, doesn’t it? That – is what you think.

CHAPTER 6

Goldfield and Lamoille, Nevada

“Comedy of Errors” – with apologies to Shakespeare…

Here we go again! Came the news of a gold strike in Goldfield. The only thing that could keep any of the men in my life from a “gold rush” would be a strait jacket.

Why waste words over details. George giving Henry short notice, a few clothes thrown into a suitcase, and a trek over the desert with an eight months old baby.

Goldfield! A city of tents.

There happened to be one frame building here, a two-room house. We secured one of the rooms. The rent included a stove and a cot. George made seats and a table out of packing boxes. Coming from my “Dream house” to this, you can imagine my delight and enthusiasm. Oh well, what is life without variety. Our one luxury was plenty of wood. Water cost five dollars a barrel, brought in from Tonopah. I certainly learned to conserve water.

Nellie and Roma in Goldfield

We also had the usual “little house” on the side of the hill. Ah! This is reminiscing. A little frame, covered with sacking, (community property) not so bad socially speaking, but at times, with a blizzard in full swing, and snow knee deep, we found it rather irritating to stand in line.

Getting acquainted was easy. Everybody in a mining camp is your friend and neighbor, so, on the other side of the picture things could have been worse. We danced every night or so in the tent hall, to the haunting strains of a banjo, and a fiddle. When the banjo artist was working, we still had the fiddle. Honestly though, it was fun for me “tripping the light fantastic” while George, the proud father, was strutting around show off the only baby in camp.

Dugout homes in Goldfield

Brother Bill had beaten us to Goldfield by two weeks, and now, in the midst of this interlude of gaiety – He came down with pneumonia. As usual he was boss at one of the mines, living in style in a dug-out. A definition of this is here indicated, as I hardly think you are familiar with this style of architecture. A dug-out is a cave dug into the side of a hill, boarded up at the entrance, and has one window and a door. A dirt floor enhanced the beauty of this particular abode.

Nurses were not available, so it was up to me to take care of the patient. Under the best conditions, I am no nurse, and you can imagine me nursing a very sick man under these conditions, with my baby parked on a cot.

Here also we had the “little house” on the hill; a bit closer and traffic not quite so heavy. On big blizzard days we could even brag about our “southern exposure”.

Another problem was a daily line up of men from the mine, bringing gifts to the boss. In each case, the gift was a bottle of the best whiskey. Now, this was “right up Bill’s alley” sick or well, and he did his best to show his appreciation.

I was at my wits end, and when he was finally completely “out” I commenced smashing bottles as fast as they came. At that, Bill always claimed it was whiskey that saved his life. Be that has it may – I was ready for a strait jacket myself, by the time his wife arrived to relieve me.

George was no help whatever. His job was bar-tending in a saloon, and he had a load of his own to carry.

Back in the one room we called home sweet home, I found a letter from dear little Mother Lindsay.

She intimated that this was no place for a baby, and urged me to come to them in Lamaille. [Lamoille] She also enclosed a check for expenses.

Gratefully I accepted the chance to escape from the wilderness. We went by auto to Reno – from there by train to Elko, where Tom Bryant, Aunt Belle’s husband met me. It was storming when we arrived, and I expected to stay at the hotel until the storm was over. Tom insisted that we go straight through however, and that was that. Having imbibed freely while waiting he was hardly responsible, nor was he fit to drive.

We made the trip in an open wagon with no protection from the storm – not even an umbrella. I was sure we were going to freeze to death, given time enough. Well – we made it anyhow, and my reception was ample reward for what I had been through.

Mother and Father Lindsay, Pearl and Belle were all there with open arms. They fussed over me, tucked me in bed with hot water bottles to thaw me out, and took charge of Roma. Tom Bryant’s reception also rates special mention. Even now it does my heart good remembering the way that family lit into him, individually and collectively. I had a grand rest and visit with the folks.

CHAPTER 7

Seattle, Washington and back to Nevada

Then [sister] Frank wrote begging me to come North. Mother was failing fast and grieving for me. She and Dad had gone up to Seattle when we left the Mansion.

George was willing to go, it seemed the only thing to do. He met us in Sacramento, and we made the trip together from there. Mother was so overjoyed to have me with her again, I felt guilty. My heart ached to think of her loneliness all these long months, with her time so short, and it was all so unnecessary. Had we stayed at the Mansion, everything would have been different. The comfort of spending her last days with me, and enjoying our new baby, I am sure would have prolonged her life a little. Well – such is life.

Now came the problem of house hunting; not easy, in a big city. In this I was lucky, however.

I answered an ad in the paper, offering free rent for the winter season, in exchange for taking care of a house boat. There were plenty of applicants in the office, waiting to interview the agent, so I had little hope of success, but, somehow I won the prize, and walked out with the key, just like that. The boat was on the West Seattle side, just a short trip across Puget Sound, where Mother could come and go as she wished.

After the variety of transient homes, to which I had become accustomed, from deserts to green fields, from a mansion to a shack in a mining camp – a five thousand dollar house boat really appealed to me. The house (up on piles for the winter) was built on the order of a luxury liner, with two master bedrooms, kitchen, bath, and living room on the lower deck. The living room – the full length of the boat – was all windows on one side. At night, the blinking lights of the City across Puget Sound, made a panorama of beauty long to be remembered. The entire house was beautifully furnished. The upper deck, with a canopy over the top, had tables and easy chairs scattered around, for comfort ad lounging outdoors.

Mother spent most of her time with me and enjoyed the novelty of it all. George found a job as a bookkeeper in a flour mill, within walking distance, which was a lucky break too. Then Mother was taken sick, and lived only two weeks, which I spent with her, during her last days.

Now our time was up on the house boat, which meant house hunting again. We would have had to move anyhow, owing to the fact that my second baby was about due. [sister] Frank found a place on the West Seattle side, large enough for all of us, as well as an extra room for Homer Ladd, a cousin on the Lindsay side.

Sadie Louise Lindsay

From then on I hadn’t a thing to do but eat, sleep, and rest. The result was “stupendous”. I produced another beautiful baby girl weighing twelve pounds – my Sadie. {Sadie Louise Lindsay, July 13, 1906}

Even now all I had to do was feed the child. Ed (sister Frank’s husband) was so crazy about her he took complete charge while at home, and Homer usually took over where Ed left off.

Then our happy tranquil home life was shattered suddenly. Out of a clear sky, without warning. Homer committed suicide. We never knew why. How often we read a news item similar to this incident, with only a passing interest. Coming into our home was a shocking experience; something hard to forget.

For this reason, I was glad to go back to Nevada, when Father Lindsay wrote asking George to come to Lamoille and work for him. [sometime in 1906] Our Stay there was very brief, however, a series of changes followed. We moved to Elko when George was appointed game warden. Then he and his brother Lou had a brain storm involving a deserted mining camp, called Union, eighty miles from Elko – 50 miles to a store, Post office, or railroad.

For once I objected strongly to taking the babies to this “hide-out” – objections overruled. The boys took a lease on a mine and got busy at once lining up equipment, etc., getting ready for business.

As a peace offering, they treated me to a trip to August’s ranch, for a short visit with [sister] Mame.

I stopped over in Reno, and you can imagine my surprise when the first person I ran into was my cousin Jack Hennessy, from Spokane. He and his wife were at loose ends, travelling around here and there, and when I told him about the new deal, he offered to go along with us, if it was O.K. with George. At least he said I would have another woman with me, and he would help the boys. So – that’s the way it was settled. We’re off now for the trip into exile. In a big truck this time, with all our belongings.

Union, NV [sometime in 1907]

To me the distance seemed endless, when we rode up over the last hill, and I had my first look at a ghost town, I was stunned. A street of broken-down shacks, sagging doors, and smashed windows. Not a living thing in sight.

I cried a little that day, but of course I became reconciled and made the best of a bad bargain. Tears only make wrinkles anyhow.

The men all got busy and made three of the houses livable, if not comfortable. There was plenty of wood, and we kept fires burning all night to keep the children warm. Plenty of rabbits too, for fresh meat, and some quail.

After spending six months, long dreary months, in these surroundings, by the time hauling and shipping the ore was paid for, there wasn’t enough money left to buy peanuts.

What a magnificent return for hard labor discomforts and isolation.

My Father had been buried three weeks before a letter could reach me with the news.

Add all this to the fact that I was about to have another baby, and what have you? No home, no job, and no cash.

We went back to Elko.

There, my wonderful in-laws were waiting with open arms, as usual, to take care of us. Aunt Belle owned a hot springs resort a short distance from town. By making a few changes she soon had me installed in a nice suite of rooms. She also gave George a job driving a bus back and forth from town. There was no limit to the untiring kindness and care she gave, and here I had a much-needed rest while waiting for my baby’s arrival.

My sisters certainly stood by me through all my “ups and downs”, (sister) Frank made the trip all the way from Seattle to nurse me when the time came. In fact, she hardly had time to take off her hat before getting busy.

Lindsay Sisters Belle, Roma, and Sadie

Again my heart was filled with thankfulness for my great blessings, and all troubles were forgotten, when my baby doll – Belle – was tucked in beside me. [Sept 29, 1908]

I often wonder how I would ever have managed to go through life without my three girls, who have stayed so close to me.

When I announced to my sister that I would like to have six girls, she was not too enthusiastic about it, for some reason or other.

In the meantime, an old friend of the Lindsays, Charlie Mitchell, bought the springs while we were there. He did not think much of the environment, as a place to raise a family, and offered to finance the building of a home for George.

The outlook of a home of our own meant so much to me. George took him up on it and I was walking on air while furnishing and fixing it up. The Lindsays staked George to a small bakery business, and news stand. With everything under control, I started teaching again, with the usual side line of orchestra, dance, and moving picture work, wanting to help pay for the home by doing my bit.

I hate to refer to the liquor question, but it is the only way I can explain my next move. George did not make good; the business was neglected, little or nothing paid on our debt, and worst of all, was his letting his folks down, by the failure of their investment, which they could not afford.

The constant struggle, the uncertainty of our future, with three little girls growing up, made me feel I had about all I could take, so I decided to try it alone. At least until a better way of living could be guaranteed.

It took courage too. I had my moments of doubt and anxiety – the fear of failure. But I had faith in God’s help. I turned the home over to Charlie Mitchell, sold my piano, and borrowed enough money to see me through.

Then I went to Seattle, to (sister) Frank. (1911)

Together we located a small rooming house which, if I made a success of it, would be adequate to take care of us. Raymond was with Frank too, and helped out. He could give you a word picture of how he was roped into moving furniture, up and down stairs, whenever a prospective customer preferred my quarters. It was pretty uncertain though, with the continuous moving in and out, until I had a brilliant idea. Why not “collect musicians” and give them a place to practice. I advertised and filled the house. You should see what I picked up. A Cellist, and Violinist – also a voice student. We got together week-ends for orchestra practice, our house being far enough away from others, so nobody was annoyed.

Again, I hung out my sign – which brought me a few pupils and I took one day of the week to go to Bertha’s home, in West Seattle where I gave Gertrude singing lessons, and Maxine took piano. The girls went with me so it was an outing for all of us.

CHAPTER 8

Mina and Elko, NV (1913)

George was now working in Mina.

Now he had a good position as bookkeeper in the railroad office there. He wanted us to come back and made many promises. I had never intended to keep his girls so far away from him permanently, knowing how much he loved them, and how terribly lonely he must be.

So, back we came, hoping for the best. As railroad towns go, Mina was a pretty nice little place. I was sick when I arrived there, and the neighbors were like old friends, instead of strangers; they took charge of the girls and looked after me until I was able to keep house. Later on, I went into the old routine of teaching and playing – had a monopoly in fact, so kept pretty busy.

For a while everything was fine. Then more trouble, and George lost his job.

I wired to both Reno and Elko about work in the theatres. An answer from Elko said “Come at once – a place for you in the Bradley Theatre”. (1914)

I certainly had real friends through life – not fair-weather friends, but the real thing. The railroad Supt. (George’s ex-boss) gave me passes to Elko, which eliminated that expense. Mother Lindsay made room for us, and looked out for the children while I worked, with an orchestra, at the movie house.

Later on, the orchestra leader decided to take a lease on another small theatre. We all went in together on a partnership basis.

In our enthusiasm, wishing to produce the best in music, we engaged a couple of extra musicians from out of town, to join the band on Saturday and Sunday nights and matinees.

Not because the size of the house made it necessary, we just liked to play around with a big band. The extra expense consumed most of the profits so this venture turned out to be “not so good”. Who cared? I was more play than work anyhow, the boys all had jobs on the side, and, rain or shine, I was always taken care of regardless.

Then the jinx caught up with me again. One night while playing at the show, my eyes suddenly gave out. This followed several days of terrific headaches. They took me home and called the doctor. He said the case called for an eye specialist. Not very good news, with the nearest one in Salt Lake City, (Utah). [1914]

Owing to sedatives given me for relief and sleep I was spared the shock, as well as the problem of ways and means. When I came to, everything was taken care of. Another friend (and again a railroad Supt.) had called during my “big sleep”.

He left for a me a letter of introduction to an eye specialist in Salt Lake (City). Also, pullman car reservations for the trip. He even had a room reservation for me, within a block of the doctor’s office, in a fine hotel in the city. This was truly a friend indeed. And the Lindsay clan – God Bless them, had my suitcase packed and the children taken care of.

I did not have to think, or plan, and I left feeling confident things would work out alright for me. One eye was clear enough, so I was able to travel alone. The condition was not too serious after all. Eye strain, too many hours of looking at the old time flickering silent pictures at a close range, is what caused the trouble, a temporary condition.

Three weeks of complete rest, a treatment several times a day at the doctor’s office, and I was ready to come home. In fine shape physically, one eye was clearing up nicely, but the other was still gone (out). This too has cleared up in the past few years, and my vision is now good.

I asked the doctor for my bill with my fingers crossed; He said, he would mail it to me which he did. The bill was for $35.00. Such a fee was a joke, as far as a big-name doctor goes. I know he sent that to make me feel less like a charity patient. All this shows that my worst troubles have always turned to bubbles and blown away.

[1915] Now George was in Manhattan, Nev an engineer in another mining camp. He was terribly worried; and we agreed to try it again.

Roma Lindsay. Elko, NV June of 1915.

Editor’s note: The photo at left is Roma Lindsay. She was an accomplished pianist at a very young age. It is believed the photo was taken at the Wigwam Theatre in Elko, NV June of 1915. In her later years, Roma married Dan Frey, had children and spent the rest of her life in Southern California. Music was always a part of her life. She served as organist in her church for 50 years. Nellie lived her final years with Roma and her husband until she passed in 1964.

CHAPTER 9

Manhattan, NV

Another mining camp – this time, however, there was no roughing it, and we found a community of fine friendly people.

There is no point in recording any details of our pleasant life and associations in Manhattan, as you all remember that period of our lives. [meaning her three daughters, Roma, Sadie and Belle].

I must mention just the high-lights of our famous “vaudeville tour” though it is strictly tabu – with Dan giving me the laugh. I can see now, in retrospect, a stage scene: Belle in her element, with a broad grin for the audience, plunking a banjo. Sadie, taking it very seriously, with her shy little one-sided smile – my violinist. The “leading Lady” Roma definitely did not like show business. She marched across stage to the piano looking straight ahead. Applause did not mean a thing to her.

Lindsey Girls on stage

Perhaps I did have nerve to try such a thing, but we had fun, made money enough to pay expenses, as well as a trip to San Franciso to visit [sister] Mame and Jackie boy.

It was good to see my old friends in Reno again too. In Carson [City] we stayed with [Sister] Frank’s daughter Irene, and her husband Will Murray, who entertained us royally. Also, I renewed acquaintance with Pat McCarran, the “boy” who went to the Academy with me in Reno.

Pat McCarran

He saw the billing of our show, remembered and looked me up. On our last night in Carson, Pat made up a theatre party to take in the show, and have a little celebration afterward.

According to family lore, the Lindsay sisters also played the Lyric Theatre in Goldfield now and again

All in all I would say we had a very successful “season”, up to the time that pink eye, and whooping cough broke out amongst the personnel.

After a short visit in San Francisco, we were back in Manhattan – Then came the first world war, and once more we were on the move.

CALIFORNIA – The next stop was Vallejo with George working in the shipyards on Mare Island.

San Francisco next, and, last but not least, San Diego, the end of the line.

And here I met again, some of the same old friends who said goodbye to me, so many years ago, in Wadsworth [NV]. The Shorts, Driscolls, and Bessie Reading. Mother L. and Pearl followed a short time later, making the circle complete.

L to R Francis Short, Annie Driscoll, Nellie Pearl Lindsay Toyne – Photo taken mid 1940’s

San Diego turned out to be the last stand of the rambling Lindsays, although we have moved a few times, just to keep in practice (fourteen to be exact) up to the time Roma married, but we did manage to stay within the city limits.

Nellie 1950’s

All credit is due to my beloved son-in-law Dan Frey, [daughter Roma’s husband] for removing the “skids” from under the family he married into. Dan lost no time in providing his family with a home of their own, to say nothing of providing me with a permanent place to hang my hat; for the first and only time in my long life. For this I will never cease to be grateful, and I know God will bless him for it.

I’ve had a happy home with my grandchildren too. Norma, the loving one, who kisses my troubles away. Danny – “naughty naughty”! but mighty nice – he’s my pal.

The other three grandchildren are grand children too. I regret having to live so far from them. LeRoy – the big 6-footer, Kenneth and Marjorie are all children to be proud of. My Belle and Son-in-law Cliff are now “Grandma and Grandpa”, which makes me a great grandmother. I am quite thrilled about it and hope to meet our new baby girl soon.

Red haired daughter, Belle, with Nellie
Nellie passed in 1964 at age 92

This is the end of my story, as I remember it; condensed as much as possible, so you would not be too bored. I am close to the end of the line myself, the last of the original Madden family; my brothers and sisters have all passed on.

Still close to me though, is my sister [in-law] Pearl. Through all the years of my married life, come what may, good or bad, Pearl was always right there – on my side. I think you will agree with me, after reading this, that life for me in spite of minor troubles along the way, has never been dull.

The balance, I feel, is still in my favor, because, along my other blessings my life has been filled with music. As a matter of fact, it still is, although the style has changed a bit. Now it is music in the air: Radio, Television, and Jute boxes, all going strong.

Ah! The joy of listening to the breath-taking strains of the “boogie Woogie” and “Boop boop a doop” artists. And the sad, sad moaning and groaning of the crooners, as they “give” with those heart-breaking love songs. You know I never realized before just how sad love could be. On the lighter side of course, we have the gay rollicking type of song, with attractive titles such as: “Drop dead with a hole in your head”. “Mule Team” and “Rag Mop”. Looks like we oldsters knew very little about music appreciation.

Well – time is up. In closing I will leave you a little poem which I think will express my thoughts on this – the twenty fifth day of October, 1950 – my seventy eighth birthday.

My story is finished, I will only add
A few lines to assure you old age isn’t so bad.

Time sometimes goes slowly, still I get around.
In body and mind, I am fairly sound.

I have lived a full life, with its joys and its sorrows,
So – why should I worry about the tomorrow.

I am greatly blest with good health and good sight
And with three lovely girls I adore.

I thank God for these blessings each day of my life
And wonder, how anyone could ask for more.

Lindsay Sisters 1950s – L to R Roma Sadie Belle

Roma was a wife, mother and church organist for 50 years.

Sadie was a wife, mother and homemaker.

Belle was wife, mother, RN. She passed in 1997

George Lindsay faded from view in this memoir.

He passed in 1939.

Editor’s note: Mother Delores, a Dominican nun, founded St. Mary’s Academy in Reno, Nevada in 1879. The school was the first Catholic school in Reno and served high school students. However, the school and its successor closed in 1892. The site eventually became the home of St. Mary’s Hospital.