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n 1858 Tipton could have been called "the end of the rail" or "the start of the Butterfield Overland Mail'.' The Pacific Railroad line was completed to the depot in Tipton in August of 1858. This brought frenzied activity to a rapidly growing town. From all directions stagecoaches, freight haulers and mail carriers came to pick up or discharge passengers, freight, and mail. All of this activity definitely put Tipton "on the map'.' The first trip of the Butterfield Overland Mail originated in Tipton on Sept. 16, 1858, and the development of this is very awe-inspiring.

California was admitted as a state in 1850 and immediately started to demand that Congress get a transcontinental railroad built to their state. Congress battled over the proposal for six years because they could not agree upon the best route to follow to get to California. Finally California started to talk of secession if communications and overland travel were not improved to their state. Quickly Congress passed a bill to provide for two bridged and fortified wagon roads to California-one from Independence to San Francisco by way of South Pass, Salt Lake City and the Humbolt River and the other from El Paso to Los Angeles over the Gila Trail Route. There was some improvement in travel but complaining and wrangling continued. Another idea was presented to Congress. The southern route was much the best except for the sandy desert area in New Mexico and Arizona. Congress passed an appropriation for $30,000 to buy 75 camels to use in the desert portion of the route. This, however, turned out to be a failure because the sand had so much sharp rock and gravel in it that it cut up the camel's feet.

California's prime request was that mail service be improved while they waited for the railroad to be constructed. Mail to California had to leave the east coast by boat and sail all the way around the southern tip of South America and back up to California and that took weeks. The time could be shortened by 10 days by taking the mail to Panama and carrying it overland to a waiting ship on the Pacific side of Panama. In early 1857 the Post Office Department put up for bids a contract which called for an overland mail route to California which would not exceed a time of 25 days and would run two times a week. John Butterfield was awarded the $600,000 contract. The contract stated that the mail route would have to go into operation in September 1858. It took a year of frantic and grueling work to get the route planned, built, and equipped. Butterfield chose St. Louis as his eastern terminal but when the mail route was ready to go into operation, the line had already reached Tipton. By using the railroad line he was able to draw more passengers and reduce his operating costs. To satisfy some political factions, he also had to make Memphis an eastern terminal and the Tipton route and the Memphis route met at Fort Smith Arkansas.

As soon as the contract was signed, 56 year old John Butterfield set out on a rapid survey of the route, taking a staff of helpers from four other express companies. He sent out representatives to hunt out and employ guides, scouts, and frontiersmen who were friendly with the various Indian tribes, and who knew every spring, water hole, stream ford and-mountain pass on the entire route. Except for some work that the government had done on the Gila Trail and a government-operated ferry across the Colorado River, John Butterfield had to devise his own route from Tipton to San Francisco. There were rolling hills and some rough country between Tipton and Fort Smith, Arkansas. Between Fort Smith and E1 Paso, Texas, lay a thousand miles of wilderness, arid plains, deserts and mountains and this land was inhabited only by bands of roving Indians. The trail was an indefinite route between rivers, springs and water holes. As it left Fort Smith it crossed the Oklahoma Indian Territory to Sherman, Texas, on the E1 Paso and west to San Francisco. On this route there were great stretches where there was neither a drop of water or a blade of grass, and this necessitated extra planning and expense for Mr. Butter-field for he wanted the route to be comparably safe and comfortable for the passengers.

He divided the 2,975 mile route into 200 way stations and relay .posts. The relay posts were close enough together that the distance could be traveled at a rapid pace under any weather conditions and without danger of exhausting mules or horses. At the end of each relay, living quarters, stables and corrals must be constructed. Two or three experienced frontiersmen were employed as guards and hostlers and a plentiful supply of hay, grain, food, firewood and water were stored at each station. At the end of each day's travels they had to provide~ sleeping and feeding accommodations for passengers and drivers. These stations also had to be equipped with blacksmith and harness shops and emergency horses and mules. Preparing the trail was also tedious. Bridges had to be built across streams, or ferryboats provided for the larger streams, creek banks cut down to make fording places, large rocks removed from roads, wells dug, passes through mountains cleared and the road graded enough so that the trail would be passable for travel.

Collecting the supplies was a stupendous job. Traders went out to buy the toughest and fastest horses and mules available. They bought, or had made, hundreds of' sets of harness. They ordered Concord stage coaches and Celerity wagons for use on the route and heavy freight wagons for hauling the thousand tons of hay, grain, and provisions that would be required each month at the way stations and heavy tank wagons for hauling water to the arid posts.

During the year of preparation Butterfield drove his men relentlessly, and spent more than a million dollars to get the mail route ready to go into operation. In September of 1858 they had these things ready:

250 Concord coaches

500 other vehicles ready to roll

3000 tons of hay and grain provisions stored in warehouses

A well dug or water stored at all relay posts in arid regions

1200 skilled superintendents, road bosses, drivers, guards, conductors, keepers, blacksmiths, harness makers, hostlers and clerks

Most of the men Butterfield chose were rough, tough frontiersmen, for no other men could have withstood the hardships and performed the tasks he demanded of them. On his last inspection trip, he gathered his men at the relay stations for final instructions. "Above all else, passengers and mail must be protected and schedules maintained but this can only be done by keeping on friendly terms with the Indians'.'

Other instructions he gave were: Drivers and conductors to be armed but to shoot only when lives of passengers are endangered.

No shipments of gold or silver to be carried to cut down on attacks by highwaymen.

If Indians stole horses, superintendent should secure return by peaceful means and if not, report it to U.S. military post.

Each station must take care of own property and animals and was held accountable for safety of passengers and mail.

If Indians attack, shoot to kill only ff lives are endangered

Teams of horses and mules kept ready for road at all times. Stage to sound trumphet two miles away. Fresh teams must be ready to go in ten minutes. (There was much confusion at relay stations when drivers arrived ahead of schedule.)

If a driver becomes incapacitated, keeper of way station must take his place.

Each driver had a 60 mile route and would do the driving in both directions. He was fed and housed at way stations.

Drivers must not treat horses with brutality but must not run behind schedule either.

No coach would roll without an armed conductor. His route would be 120 miles. He had absolute charge of passengers and mail and guarded them with his life.

Passenger fare from St. Louis to San Francisco was $200. Shorter distances 15c per mile.

On September 16, 1858, just as the morning sun was lighting the sky, John Butterfield, dressed in a long linen duster and a "wide-a-wake" hat, left the St. Louis post office with two bags of mail. He got into a Butterfield spring wagon and drove to the depot. There he boarded the Missouri Pacific Flyer for Tipton. He had one passenger with him--William L. Ormsby, a special correspondent of the New York Herald who was a through passenger on the first west bound trip. It took the wood-burning engine 12 hours to pull the train to Tipton (an average of 13 miles per hour). There John Butterfield Jr. waited in a Concord Stagecoach with four fast horses. It took nine minutes to transfer the two passengers and the two mail bags and the coach whipped away toward Springfield.

John Butterfield Sr. rode only as far as Fort Smith but Mr. Ormsby rode all the way to San Francisco. On his arrival he was asked to comment on his journey, "Had I not just come out over the route, I would be perfectly willing to go back'.' Then he added more bluntly, "I know what Hell is like. I've just had 24 days of it"

All people were elated that the trip could be made in 25 days. The Overland Mail continued to make two trips a week for two and one half years. Each Monday and Thursday morning Overland Mail coaches would leave Tipton and San Francisco on their transcontinental journey.

In spite of its unreasonably long route and the punishment inflicted upon the passengers by the rough roads and uncomfortable weather, Butterfield and Co. prospered. The Butterfield Line provided service that was more dependable and rapid than the ships sailing around Cape Horn. Within a month business had grown so that extra wagons had to be added. At first passengers were afraid of Indian attacks but when these did not occur, the passenger travel picked up. Butter-field also inaugurated a daily stage coach line from Tipton to Springfield.

The last Overland Mail trip was made on March 21, 1861. Attacks by the Indians forced the closing of the Gila Trail. Other trails were now in operation and the railroad lines had been extended so the Butterfield Overland Mail Line suspended operation.

The Butterfield office and stables in Tipton were located in a building where the Stop and Shop grocery building is now located. At that time only a dusty plaza separated this building from the depot.

Waterman L. Ormbsy, a reporter for the New York Herald, was the only through passenger on the first East-West run of the Butterfield Stage. He sent periodic dispatches to the paper describing his journey.

Tipton is mentioned in his first dispatch of September 16, 1858:

"At Tipton, Moniteau County, Mo., the end of the Pacific Railroad, the bags are first placed on the coaches of the Overland Mail Company. We left St. Louis this morning at eight o'clock, and are to leave Tipton at 6 p.m. Thus far we are up to time. I shall mail you this at Tipton, and after that will write as the journey will permit. If I can write in the wagons with not less convenience than I have written this in the cars, you will hear from me regularly:"

In his letter of September 20 written near the Red River in Indian Territory, he describes the scene at Tipton when the first mail was loaded on the Overland Stage:

"My last letter was written on the Pacific Railroad, near the western terminus, and left us in anticipation of meeting the first overland mail stage at Tipton, about one hundred and sixty miles from St. Louis...Since that time we have traveled day and night, across hills, mountains, and plains, as fast as four horses with constant relays could carry us...To gain thirty-two hours, as we have on the already close time table of the Overland Mail Company has not given us much time to go easy over the stones. I have given up several attempts to write, out of sheer despair, and perhaps your printers will wish I had given up this...The only sleep I have had since last Thursday morning has been snatched in the wagons, on roads which out-Connecticut Connecticut. Yet the new scenes which constantly meet the view, the variegated aspect of the country, the curious characters to be met, and the novelty of roughing it overland are, I think, quite a recompense for any slight inconvenience which may be experienced. But, to the details of our journey.

"The Pacific Railroad train, carrying the first overland mail, arrived at Tipton, the western terminus of the road, situated in Moniteau County, Mo., at precisely one minute after six o'clock p.m. of Thursday, the 16th inst., being several minutes behind time. We there found the first coach ready, the six horses all harnessed and hitched, and Mr. John Butterfield, Jr., impatient to be off.

"The town contains but a few hundred inhabitants, and all these seemed to have turned out for the occasion, though they made no demonstration on account of it. The place is, however, but a few months old, having been built since the completion of this end of the line, and doubtless excitements are too rare to be appreciated. They looked on with astonishment as the baggage and packages were being rapidly transferred from the cars to the coach. The latter was entirely new and had not yet held a load of passengers... The time occupied in shifting the baggage and passengers was just nine minutes, at which time the cry of "All aboard',' and the merry crack of young John Butterfield's whip, denoted we were off. I took a note of the "following distinguished persons present',' as worthy of a place in history: Mr. John Butterfield, president of the Overland Mail Company; John Butterfield, Jr., on the box; Judge Wheeler, lady, and two children, of Fort Smith; Mr. T.R. Corbin, of Washington; and the correspondent of the Herald. It had been decided to take no passengers but the last named gentleman, on the first trip, but Mr. Butterfield made an exception in favor of Judge Wheeler, agreeing to take him to Fort Smith, where he intended to go himself. You will perceive, therefore, that your correspondent was the only through passenger who started in the first overland coach for San Francisco, as all the rest of the party dropped off by the time we reached Fort Smith. Not a cheer was raised as the coach drove off, the only adieu being, "Good bye, John',' addressed to John, Jr., by one of the crowd. Had they have been wild Indians they could not have exhibited less emotion."

"Our road for the first few miles was very fair, coursing through several small prairies, where for the first time I noticed those travelling hotels so commonly seen in the western country. These are large covered wagons, in which the owner and his family, sometimes numbering as high as a dozen, emigrate from place to place, travelling in the daytime, and camping near wood, water, and grass at night...We rode along at a somewhat rapid pace, because John, Jr. was determined that the overland mail should go through his section on time: and, though his father kept calling out, "Be careful, John;' he assured him that it was "all right" and drove on.

"The first stopping place was at "Shackleford's" about seven miles distant, and we seemed hardly to have become comfortably seated in the coach before our attention was attracted to the illumination of our destination--a recognition of the occasion which seemed quite cheering after the apparent previous neglect...

"This locality is called Syracuse and is principally owned by T.R. Brayton and Mr. Shackleford, who have done much to establish the route through this section. The Pacific Railroad Company is building a depot here, and the western terminus will shortly be extended to it"

 * Webmaster's Note: This article was written on the occasion of the centennial of the town of Tipton Missouri. 

Webmaster's Note:  By the Civil War, the terminus of the Pacific Railroad was extended west to Sedalia Missouri but the major Butterfield Overland Mail operations had moved north to a new terminus at St. Joseph Missouri were it connected with the North Missouri Railway from Hannibal Missouri. This move was no doubt necessitated by the fact that the railroad bridge at Otterville over the LaMine River was burned several times by bushwackers. The following comes to us from: "Riding The Overland Stage, 1861," EyeWitness - history through the eyes of those who lived it, www.ibiscom.com (1998).

n 1861, Mark Twain's (real name Samuel Clemens) brother Orion was named Secretary of Nevada Territory. Twain joined his brother for the trip west. (Some contend the young Twain deserted from the Confederate Army to do so.) Eleven years later Twain described his journey in the book Roughing It. Although its approach is humorous, the book's descriptions are accurate. As Twain notes in his preface, "...there is information in the volume; information concerning an interesting episode in the history of the Far West, about which no books have been written by persons who were on the ground in person, and saw the happenings of the time with their own eyes."

The movies create an idyllic impression of riding the overland stage - smooth travel in roomy comfort. Twain paints a much different picture - passengers crammed together with mailbags, jostled by every bump, breathing dust, and at the mercy of Mother Nature. However, for its time, the stagecoach offered the latest technology in travel, carrying its careening passengers across the Western Plains at speeds greater than any other transport available.

Starting Out
Twain begins his journey in St. Joseph, Missouri, the starting point for the overland route to Sacramento, California. Twain and his brother Orion discover that passengers are limited to only 25 pounds of baggage. After shedding much of their luggage, the intrepid travelers are on their way across the plains of Kansas.

"Our coach was a swinging and swaying cage of the most sumptuous description - an imposing cradle on wheels. It was drawn by six handsome horses, and by the side of the driver sat the 'conductor,' the legitimate captain of the craft; for it was his business to take charge and care of the mails, baggage, express matter, and passengers. We three were the only passengers this trip. We sat on the back seat, inside. About all the rest of the coach was full of mail bags - for we had three days' delayed mail with us. Almost touching our knees, a perpendicular wall of mail matter rose up to the roof. There was a great pile of it strapped on top of the stage, and both the fore and hind boots were full. We had twenty-seven hundred pounds of it aboard, the driver said - 'a little for Brigham, and Carson, and 'Frisco, but the heft of it for the Injuns, which is powerful troublesome 'thout they get plenty truck to read.' But as he just then got up a fearful convulsion of his countenance which was suggestive of a wink being swallowed by an earthquake, we guessed that his remark was intended to be facetious , and to mean that we would unload the most of our mail matter somewhere on the Plains and leave it to the Indians, or whosoever wanted it.

We changed horses every ten miles, all day long, and fairly flew over the hard, level road. We jumped out and stretched our legs every time the coach stopped, and so the night found us still vivacious and unfatigued."

Traveling
The next day, the stage suffers a breakdown forcing its passengers to evacuate while repairs are made. The conductor lays the blame for the mishap on the extra weight of too many mailbags. After throwing half the mail onto the prairie, the stage resumes its journey. Orion's large Unabridged Dictionary causes trouble along the way.

"Whenever the stage stopped to change horses, we would wake up, and try to recollect where we were - and succeed - and in a minute or two the stage would be off again, and we likewise. We began to get into country, now, threaded here and there with little streams. These had high, steep banks on each side, and every time we flew down one bank and scrambled up the other, our party inside got mixed sowewhat. First we would all lie down in a pile at the forward end of the stage, nearly in a sitting posture, and in a second we would shoot to the other end and stand on our heads. And we would sprawl and kick, too, and ward off ends and corners of mail-bags that came lumbering over us and about us; and as the dust rose from the tumult, we would all sneeze in chorus, and the majority of us would grumble, and probably say some hasty thing, like: 'Take your elbow out of my ribs! Can't you quit crowding?'

Every time we avalanched from one end of the stage to the other, the Unabridged Dictionary would come too; and every time it came it damaged somebody. One trip it 'barked' the Secretary's elbow; the next trip it hurt me in the stomach, and the third it tilted Bemis's nose up till he could look down his nostrils - he said. The pistols and coin soon settled to the bottom, but the pipes, pipe-stems, tobacco, and canteens clattered and floundered after the Dictionary every time it made an assault on us, and aided and abetted the book by spilling tobacco in our eyes, and water down our backs."

The Way Station
Each evening, the stage announces its approach to a way station by the driver blowing a bugle. The way station offers sparse comfort.

By the door of the station keeper's den, outside, was a tin wash-basin, on the ground. Near it was a pail of water and a piece of yellow soap, and from the eves hung a hoary blue woolen shirt, significantly - but this latter was the station-keeper's private towel, and only two persons in all the party might venture to use it - the stage-driver and the conductor."