Literature written in a bygone era is the only form of time travel available to us. So, set the ìWay-Back-Machineî to the mid 1800s ó weíre heading out west with author Bret Harte as our guide. ìThe Luck of Roaring Camp,î the first of 25 short stories in Harteís collection, sets the tone for this book. Donít expect trite happy endings or an endless supply of morally upstanding characters; those belong to a more genteel time and place. This, my friends, is life in the raw. As ìThe Luck of Roaring Campî opens, about 100 men are gathered in front of a shack. All appear worried; and, when the need to speak occurs, they do so in whispers. Inside the cabin is the campís only female inhabitant, Cherokee Sal, who is in labor. Harte writes, ìPerhaps the less said of her is better. She was a coarse, and, it is to be feared, a very sinful woman.î Of course, Sal wouldnít be in the condition she was in without the aid of at least one sinful miner. But who that sinner could be was anyoneís guess, since most of the miners had known Sal ó in the biblical sense. When her moans grew louder, the group convinced Stumpy to go inside to see if he could render any assistance. His only qualification for the task was the fact that he had not one, but two, families. Still, he did his best, and shortly thereafter a healthy baby boy became the newest resident of Roaring Camp. Unfortunately, within a few hours, Sal died. After giving her a decent burial, a meeting was convened. In a unanimous vote, the men decided to raise the baby, with the aid of milk from ìJenny,î the donkey. A month later, it became clear that the baby needed a name and probably should be christened. Their version of the service wouldnít pass muster with any known church, but the baby was duly blessed and named Thomas Luck. It was noted this was ìthe first time that the name of the Deity had been uttered otherwise than profanely in the camp.î Overnight, life in the camp changed. The men pooled their gold dust to buy supplies for the boy. Gone were the minersí normal nightly fights, rowdy parties and cursing. And those who wished to be granted the honor of holding ìThe Luckî first had to wash and put on a clean shirt, a practice hitherto unheard of in the camp. Surprisingly enough, men with names such as Man-o-War Jack, Cockney Simmons and Kentuck were all won over by the infant. ìThe Luck of Roaring Campî is a fanciful story, but it ends all too realistically, as do most of the other tales. Harte was born in Albany, New York, in 1836. He moved to California in 1853, where he first worked as a miner before becoming a teacher and journalist. Later, he moved back east to become the publisher of the ìAtlantic Monthly.î Today, he is best remembered for his western short stories. Readers will notice that some of the characters appear in several stories. Two of my favorites are Jack Hamlin, a notorious gambler, and Col. Starbottle, a southern lawyer ìknown for his oratorical abilitiesî and his weakness for the ladies. Our first introduction to both men occurs in ìBrown of Calaveras,î as they are traveling together on a stagecoach to the town of Wingdam. On board with them is an exceptionally pretty woman, Mrs. Sue Brown. This story illustrates the pitfalls of having a wife in a territory where men disproportionately outnumber women. While Hamlin is wary of Sueís intentions, Starbottle cultivates her less than honorable behavior. But the colonel will get his comeuppance in ìColonel Starbottle for the Plaintiff.î It is entertaining to see how he wins over the jury as he defends the Eureka Ditch Co. in a suit initiated by the state of California. Then, with a 180-degree twist in the plot, this same astute gentleman is taken in by the flattery of a young woman. As the book progresses, Harte shows how social behavior changed once settlers began to outnumber miners, gamblers and prostitutes in the West. But in ìThe Convalescence of Jack Hamlin,î it becomes clear that even the decent church goers of Windy Hill were open to a little vice when they fell under the gamblerís spell. The ìLuck of Roaring Campî was written at a time when photography was in its infancy, so newspapers and magazines contained a limited number of pictures. That meant authors could only achieve success by literally ìpainting the sceneî with descriptive prose. Here is how Harte describes Hamlinís quick escape from an unwanted romantic encounter. ìWith an oath, a bound, and clatter, Jack was into the road. In another moment, to the manís half-awakened eyes, he was but a moving cloud of dust in the distance, toward which a star just loosed from its brethren was trailing a stream of fire.î While we might find such passages wordy, it leaves little doubt as to the urgency of Hamlinís departure, and it was a great visual image for Harteís readers, most of whom lived in East Coast cities. Another thing I encountered in these stories was a few unfamiliar words, most of which can be understood in the context of the sentence. However, in ìThe Iliad of Sandy Bar,î a tale about a falling out between partners, Scottís dying words are ìOld man, thar was too much saleratus in that bread!î Since knowing the meaning of ìsaleratusî is essential to understanding the entire story, Iíll let you in on the secret. Today, we call it baking soda. Not only does reading literature from the past improve our vocabulary, it also gives us a glimpse into the thought patterns of those who lived before us. So see how the West changed from wild and wooly into a ìsomewhatî settled territory in Harteís enjoyable book, ìThe Luck of Roaring Camp and Other Stories.î
