Portland, Oregon, A.D. 1999, and other sketches

In Short

This collection blends two distinct literary modes: a speculative vision of Portland in 1999 and a series of anecdotal sketches reflecting the author’s background as a telegraph operator in the American West. The first part offers a quaint, earnest attempt to forecast urban development, social reform, and technological marvels through the eyes of a prophetic visitor. The second part shifts into a mosaic of Western lore, focusing on the itinerant life of telegraphers, mining camp characters, and the camaraderie of those who built the infrastructure of the frontier.

The Story

The narrative begins in 1913 with a visit from an erect, intelligent old woman in Quaker garb who claims to have insights into the distant year 1999. She paints a picture of a Portland that has transcended the grime of the early twentieth century. In her vision, the city has become a sprawling, verdant "Rose City," where concrete dwellings have replaced wooden structures and the streets have been reclaimed from automobiles and paved with rye grass for children. She describes a society where women serve on the police force, a universal language has simplified human communication, and the city’s climate is managed by massive, air-borne water bags that provide rain during droughts. The city is a hub of connectivity, marked by deep-water tubes under the Willamette River and a defense system that keeps the Pacific Coast at peace for over half a century.

As the old woman concludes her prophecy, the book shifts abruptly to a collection of short, observational sketches centered on the lives of Western telegraphers and frontier characters. We meet figures like the notorious "bad man" Jim Slack, who attempts to rope a mining partner into a questionable scheme, only to be outsmarted. We encounter the legendary operator "Bogy," an itinerant telegrapher whose ability to copy messages at high speed makes him a folk hero among his peers. The stories delve into the humor and hardships of the trade, such as the time a railroad superintendent’s private car, the Orilla, is jokingly renamed the Gorilla by mischievous inspectors, or the frantic coordination required to relay a backlog of messages during a wire outage.

The collection moves through various vignettes of the American West: the antics of a young messenger boy named Otto Prag, the simple joys of families enjoying a day at the State Fair, and the gentle nobility of characters like Jim Winters, who finds community and kindness in his California retirement. These sketches are grounded in a world of practical, often transient labor, where men and women find connection through shared work, travel, and the occasional prank. The book concludes with these reflections on the past, moving away from the utopian future described in the opening chapters to focus on the human reality of a bygone era—the telegraph offices, the lonely stations, and the bonds formed in the margins of a rapidly developing nation.

How It Unfolds

The prophecy begins A mysterious, articulate visitor arrives in 1913 to describe a Portland eighty-six years in the future. She outlines a city of concrete, grass-lined streets, and advanced aerial navigation.

A vision of integration The visitor details the social and infrastructure changes of 1999, including female police officers, a universal language, and a defense network centered on a tower at Fort Stevens.

The shift to the past The perspective transitions from the speculative future to a series of anecdotal sketches. These stories focus on the telegraphers, miners, and travelers who populated the American West at the turn of the century.

Tales of the trade The narrative explores the culture of telegraph offices, focusing on the high-speed work of operators and the camaraderie built during long, demanding shifts. Pranks, nicknames, and the transient nature of these workers are central themes.

The final impressions The book concludes with vignettes of frontier life, capturing the idiosyncratic nature of Western characters. These stories emphasize the dignity of everyday people and the enduring, often humorous, memory of their small, collective histories.

The People

The Old Woman serves as the voice of the future. She is calm, firm, and possessed of a rare intelligence, acting as a bridge between the limitations of 1913 and the perceived perfection of 1999. Her goal is to inspire optimism in her listener, and she ends the first section having successfully painted a portrait of a world at peace.

Jim Slack is a representative of the lawless, violent side of the frontier. A suspected criminal and stage robber, his greed leads him into a mining partnership with Jack Hamlin. Unlike the other characters, he is motivated by malice and desperation, ultimately failing to maintain his ruse or his integrity.

Jack Hamlin stands in contrast to Slack. As a successful miner who finds money to be a burden, he deals with his shady partner with a mix of dry humor and cautious pragmatism. He is the audience for Slack’s failures, remaining unmoved by the "bad man's" attempts to secure a "get-rich-quick" scheme.

"Bogy" (Henry Bogardus) is the quintessential itinerant telegrapher. He moves from place to place, evading formal responsibilities, yet is universally admired for his extraordinary professional skill. He represents the restless, nomadic spirit of the men who kept the nation’s communication lines humming.

Clarence Vincent begins his career as a young, somewhat naive operator at Maricopa Wells, where he earns the respect of local Indian tribes. Through his own efforts, he eventually rises to become a "Beau Brummel" in Phoenix society, highlighting the social mobility possible in the American West.

In Its Own Voice

The old woman describes the physical transformation of the streets in the Portland of 1999.

"Owing to the fact that there are few, if any, automobiles or other rapid methods of travel to take up the streets of our city, there was an order issued by the City Commissioners removing the hard surface pavements and authorizing the Commissioner of Public Service to sow the streets in rye grass and Kentucky blue grass, so that the city of Portland is one perpetual system of parks."

The author captures the transient, high-pressure environment of the telegraph office.

"The reputation of the whole office seemed to be at stake, and all gathered around to see, what was rightly thought would be an unparalleled feat of rapid transmission."

What It's Really About

At its heart, this book is an exploration of the American belief in progress. The first half projects this faith into the future, assuming that technical and social advancement will naturally lead to a more harmonious, equitable society. The second half grounds this same belief in the lived experience of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, where progress was synonymous with individual grit, professional mastery, and the slow expansion of infrastructure. The central question is how humanity balances the desire for a better world with the reality of its own fallibility. It argues that even in the face of "present wrong," there is a "steady gain of Man" that persists through both technological innovation and the simple, persistent kindness of individuals toward one another.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of Portland or the lore of the American telegraph service will find much to appreciate here. The book captures a specific, optimistic tone common to the early twentieth century—a mix of civic boosterism and frontier romanticism that feels distinctly of its time. It is a slow, episodic read, structured more like a collection of memories than a traditional novel.

Those who enjoy period flavor will appreciate the author’s inclusion of technical telegraphic slang and descriptions of the transient labor culture of the era. However, contemporary readers should be prepared for the book's period attitudes, particularly in its depictions of indigenous peoples and social groups, which reflect the prejudices and generalizations of the 1913 American West. The prose is earnest and informal, sometimes bordering on the conversational, which gives the book the feeling of an evening spent listening to an elder share stories on a front porch. What lingers is not the accuracy of its 1999 predictions—which are charmingly off-target—but the author’s genuine affection for his colleagues and his desire to preserve the names, places, and small victories of the people who occupied his world. It is a warm, unpretentious artifact of a bygone sense of community.