I’ll be speaking at the Nevada County Historical Society meeting tomorrow evening at 6:30 p.m. at the Madelyn Helling Library in Nevada City. The talk will center on the most recent book released The Bedside Book of Bad Girls: Outlaw Women of the Midwest. Email me for more information – gvcenss@aol.com. Hope to see you there. And now for this commercial message…. The stagecoach figured prominently in the early west. Under ideal condition, a coach driven by a fresh team of horses could “cut dirt” at the breakneck pace of nine miles per hour. Yet driving condition throughout much of the century were rarely ideal. Vehicles got stuck in ruts of mud so often that the expression “up to the hub” became a national colloquialism to illustrate any intractable predicament. Bad roads and driver impatience frequently combined to turn a coach over. During any long stage trip, in fact, passengers expected and were mentally prepared for at least one turnover.

For those who might be feeling as poorly as a centipede with sciatic rheumatism the following Old West advertisement might just be the thing to make it better. In the early 19th century most Americans healed themselves as their ancestors had for centuries. Professional medical assistance was either too far away, to expensive, or both. Even wealthy urban families usually attempted some sort of home health care before the doctor was called. This care was usually administered with the aid of books, pamphlets, and proprietary medicines purchased at the general store. Proprietary medicine advertisements were the mainstay of newspapers in the Old West. Newspapers carried notices for medicated vapor baths, artificial teeth, genuine Galvanic Rings, the Anodyne Necklace and other amulets. Some patent medicine companies spent more than $100,000 a year advertising their products. Patent medicines were the hottest-selling items on store shelves. If the labels on the medicines were to be believed, they could handle just about any and ever complaint. One concoction grandly promised to cure thirty different disorders including “nervous debility caused by the indiscretions of youth.” Mostly they relied on a heavy lacing of alcohol to work their proclaimed wonders. Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters, for instance, soothed indigestion with a formula packing a fifty-proof wallop.

And now a word from Royal Baking Powder…. Pioneer women spent a great deal of time cooking and baking for their families. Baking bread was a daily occurrence in most households and baking powder was an essential ingrediant in such. It was compounded of sodium bicarbonate and an acid salt or an alum that caused pastry and quick breads to rise. In 1880, Royal Baking Powder was the brand frontier wives preferred. It was one of the first name brand cooking items in the West. Other brands who dared compete with Roayl found themselves in the middle of an advertisement war. Royal claimed their baking powder was the best and hurled insults at their rivals in newspapers and magazines. Eventually the market became so flooded with different baking powder brands that Royal stopped their attack ads and focused solely on what their product had to offer.

A one-room log cabin with dirt or puncheon floor, simple fireplace, sawbuck table and straw mattress in which an entire family might sleep – that was as far as luxury went on the frontier and in newly settled regions of the country. Long-settled communities enjoyed roomier abodes, of course, and as the wealth of the region and of the nation grew, houses became larger, more elaborate and better equipped. Specialized stores helped homeowners furnish their dwellings with the most fashionable sofas, chairs, and love-seats available. Early Victorian furniture was popular and the most common style carried by furniture stores. Victorian furniture was large and made of mahogany, rosewood or black walnut. Notable characteristics were saber legs; marble table tops; turned bedposts; mushroom-turned wooden knobs for handles; ornamentation in the form of carved medallions featuring flowers, fruits and foliage. There’s nothing simple about that look. I’m not surprised the advertisment boasted that the items were cheap.

Over the past dozen or so years I’ve been researching Old West events I’ve come across some interesting advertisements. Newspapers from the mid 1800s are filled with peculiar, poignant and sometimes comical ads that provide insight into the lifestyle of the rugged pioneers who settled in the wild frontier. In the beginning traders, politicians and merchants peddled their wares using town criers, outdoor displays and eye-catching signs painted on the walls of buildings. The invention of moveable type in the early part of the 19th century gave business owners a new way to market their products and persuade consumers to buy whatever they were selling. However, advertisers did not abandon the old ways of pitching goods and services. By 1870, five years after the end of the Civil War, America was awash in advertising. Announcements were everywhere. Not only were they prominent in newspapers and magazines, but posters and broadsides, many in full color, blazoned from the walls of buildings in city locations from where they could be seen at considerable distances. Almanacs, filled with advertisements, were piled on druggists’ counters for customers to pick up. Notices were painted on rocks or sides of country barns, inside retail shops and offices, and on the outsides of public transportation. On the streets of large cities sandwich men were seen, at times in groups with each carrying individual letters which spelled out the name of a product. Banners were strung across streets and drummers were hired to beat out a tune and direct people into various general stores. The advertisements I’ve included in this month’s journal entries were featured in Almanacs and painted on the sides of country barns. The following advertisement, written by George Donner, leader of the ill-fated Donner Party, appeared in the Springfield Illinois Gazette in 1846. Ninety-seven people joined the party and left for points west in April of that year. Twenty-one pioneers survived the journey which included a long trek through a hot, barren desert, pounding rainstorms, attacks by hostile Indians, lack of water, blinding blizzards, and no food. The tragic outcome of the Donner Party did not halt westward migration. The promise of a better life in a land rumored to be rich with fertile ground and warm temperatures spurred hundreds on to California. The discovery of gold in 1849 brought thousands more to the state. The compelling ad read as follows: “Westward ho! Who wants to go to California without costing them anything? As many as eight young men of good character who can drive an ox team will be accommodated. Come boys, you can have as much land as you want without costing you anything!”