Quick Facts
Byname of:
Central Overland California & Pike’s Peak Express Company
Date:
April 1860 - October 1861

Greeted with great fanfare and excitement, the first ride of the Pony Express, on April 3, 1860, was reported by newspapers across the country. The first mochila of mail included a letter from Pres. James Buchanan to Gov. John Downey of California, congratulating him on the Pony Express. Forty riders participated in the Express’s first sprint across the country, which ended in downtown Sacramento at 5:45 pm on April 13, exactly 10 days after the first rider had left St. Joseph. The festive welcome in Sacramento (bands playing, bells ringing, and people standing on balconies and rooftops waving flags, singing, and shouting) was repeated hours later in San Francisco after the mail was conveyed to its final destination by the large side-wheeler steamboat Antelope. With the historic first ride, the Pony Express fulfilled its promise to get the mail from St. Joseph to San Francisco in 10 days. Never before in history had letters been delivered over such a distance so quickly.

Rough rides, dangerous stations

Although there is no record of the exact number of stations along the Pony Express route, historians estimate that there were about 190. The station keeper’s responsibilities included the saddled readiness of a change horse for the incoming rider and the keeping of an accurate record of the riders’ arrival and departure times. The distance between stations, determined by the distance a good horse could run at a full gallop over that particular terrain, was usually 10–15 miles (16–24 km). In flat country, where the trail was not difficult, stations were farther apart; in the mountains they were closer together. Some of the worst locations in terms of access to natural resources and vulnerability to attacks by Native American groups were between Salt Lake City and Carson City, Nevada, but it was dangerous working in any of the isolated, indefensible cabins, most of which could be easily overrun.

Not much is known about the stations themselves, but in most cases they were hardly built for comfort. Most of the relay posts consisted of small simple cabins, with a few stalls and a corral for the horses. All but the best stations had dirt floors. Glass windows were unknown, and the furniture often consisted of empty wooden crates. Food at the smaller stations was little more than sufficient to keep the workers from starvation: cured meats, dried fruit, flour for bread baked in an open fire, molasses, pickles, coffee, and cornmeal. The home stations were much bigger, with extra sleeping quarters for a couple of riders. Here a rider could eat at a more leisurely pace, chat with the station keeper and his assistants, and above all get a good rest in preparation for his next demanding trip.

Runs were usually about 75–100 miles (112–160 km) long, during which the rider changed horses from four to seven times. Home stations were established along the route about every 75 miles. The exact placement was determined by the terrain and, where possible, by the availability of an already established facility, such as a fort or a stagecoach stop. Like relay stations, home stations had horse stalls and a corral. When the rider arrived at a home station, he removed the mochila from his horse and threw it over the saddle of the fresh horse, and the new rider would leap into the saddle and be off. For the first few weeks of the service, riders carried a rifle as well as a pistol. However, it soon became apparent that rifles were too heavy and awkward to be practical, so the riders stopped carrying them. Some riders carried horns to signal the relay station of their approach.

Pony Express riders faced a host of perils. In addition to the discomfort and danger of the rough terrain, harsh weather, insects, and scarce water on the trail, hostile Indigenous groups threatened riders and station keepers alike. Indeed, in the spring and summer of 1860, the Pony Express found itself in the middle of the Pyramid Lake War with the Paiute people in Nevada, a conflict that is believed to have begun at Williams Station about 30 miles (48 km) east of Carson City on the Carson River.

Heroes on horseback

Soon after the start of the Pony Express, the fame of the young riders—some merely boys—began to spread throughout the country. They were considered a special class of citizens. Although they were young and small in stature, they tackled a big job. As stories about them circulated, their image became larger than life. Newspapers built them up to the level of epic heroes.

Much was expected of the riders, both in terms of their duty and in their personal life. In fact, riders were required to take the following pledge:

I [name], do hereby swear, before the Great and Living God, that during my engagement, and while I am an employee of Russell, Majors & Waddell, I will, under no circumstances, use profane language; that I will drink no intoxicating liquors; that I will not quarrel or fight with any other employee of the firm, and that in every respect I will conduct myself honestly, be faithful to my duties, and so direct all my acts as to win the confidence of my employer. So help me God.

Those who seriously violated this oath could expect to be terminated, with the loss of back pay. This is not to say that the Pony Express riders were saints. But in most cases they were devoted to their task and proved their loyalty again and again. Among the best known of the riders was William (“Buffalo Bill”) Cody, whose adventures rank among the most exciting in the annals of the mail service, including one nearly continuous 22-hour ride in Wyoming from Red Butte Station to Pacific Springs and back, a distance of some 300 miles (480 km). There were also dramatic accounts of Cody’s heroic escapes from Native Americans and highwaymen, though some of his exploits were the creations of dime novelists and publicity agents.

Another of the service’s most-storied riders was “Pony Bob” Haslam, holder of the record for the longest and fastest run in the history of the Pony Express. That much-celebrated run in May 1860 began at Friday’s Station on the southwest shore of Lake Tahoe and took Haslam east on his normal route to Buckland’s Station (though without the benefit of a relief horse en route) and then on another 90-mile (145-km) trek through hostile Paiute territory when the next rider was cowed by the threat of Indigenous aggression. Having ridden some 190 miles (305 km) in that single day, Haslam in essence turned around and went right back, this time replacing a rider who did not show up and rescuing a stationmaster from a Paiute attack along the way. In the end he traveled about 360 miles (580 km) in 40 hours. That courage, stamina, and reliability made Haslam a logical choice to carry particularly important dispatches, such as the news of Abraham Lincoln’s election to the presidency.

Stamina was also the forte of Jack Keetley, who once rode some 340 miles (550 km) in 31 hours without a significant stop and arrived at his final destination asleep in the saddle.