A TALE OF A HIDDEN HEROINE:
Just a few days from now would be Harriet Walley’s 210th birthday — April 19th to be precise. But unlike her famous husband, David Walley, Harriet’s name has been largely forgotten.
Born Harriet Jane Talmadge, she entered the world in 1815 in the scenic Berkshire mountains of Williamstown, Massachusetts. Her family was locally well-known, though not for the most positive of reasons. While her grandfather had been an early settler, Harriet’s father, Asa, supplemented his farming income with a sideline in brandy-making. That potent cider-derivative became an “untoward influence” in the community, fueling much fighting, gambling, and drunkenness. Asa’s affinity for his own high-octane brew may have been problematic for his family as well; from 1850 to 1860, Harriet’s mother Abigail could be found living in the homes of her sons, rather than with her husband.
It’s unclear exactly how Harriet met her future husband, who’d been born in neighboring New York State. But David Walley’s brother, Stephen, owned a cotton mill and manufacturing business in Harriet’s hometown, so perhaps visits to his brother led their paths to cross. They were married June 2, 1841. Harriet was a spinster-ish 26 at the time, while David was slightly younger, at roughly 23.
No children were born to them during the next nine years. But David found gainful employment as a laborer, and they managed to accumulate real property worth $1,200. And then the Gold Rush hit. Likely drawn by the nationwide excitement, David departed for California in April, 1852, leaving Harriet in the household of her older brother. It would not be an easy journey west for David, though he followed the “shorter” route through Panama. But after a series of delays and uncomfortable travel, he successfully debarked at last in San Francisco.
There, unlike other emigrants, David didn’t turn his hand to mining. Instead, for the next eight years he became the proprietor of various San Francisco saloons and restaurants. He must have corresponded with Harriet during this time or possibly even made a trip or two home, though there’s no record confirming it.
Evidently growing tired of San Francisco, he moved east to Genoa in November 1860, a move that may have been sparked by news of gold discoveries in Sierra Canyon. There, David not only filed timber and mining claims but also began working as a contractor for miner Henry Fitch, who was running a tunnel – which happened to be near some hot springs south of town.
Hot springs were a familiar natural attraction to David Walley. Seismic springs had been popular back in Williamstown, Massachusetts, where they’d long been used for medicinal purposes. So David quickly recognized the commercial potential of these natural hot springs near Genoa. As historian Billie Rightmire would later put it, David immediately concluded the “awful-smelling water must have had a cure in it!”
David acquired rights to the springs from two previous small-time operators, Cosser and Brown. And by 1862, David and a partner named Jedder were operating a medicinal spa they called the Genoa Hot Springs – or more familiarly, simply “Walley’s Hot Springs,” offering baths for 50 cents each. This early operation was anything but a lavish affair, with tents as the only protection from sun and wind. But he soon erected a small wooden bath house.
David acquired rights to the springs from two previous small-time operators, Cosser and Brown. And by 1862, David and a partner named Jedder were operating a medicinal spa they called the Genoa Hot Springs – or more familiarly, simply “Walley’s Hot Springs,” offering baths for 50 cents each. This early operation was anything but a lavish affair, with tents as the only protection from sun and wind. But he soon erected a small wooden bath house.
While David was making his way in the West, Harriet had been pursuing a career back home as a dressmaker. Finally, after a decade-long separation, David sent for her at last. Harriet boarded a steamship in New York City on April 11, 1863 – just a week before she turned 48. She, too, took the Panama route, though by this time a railroad had been built, smoothing and shortening the route across the isthmus. Harriet arrived in San Francisco on May 9, 1863, then boarded a stage for the remaining leg of her journey. By the time Harriet finally met up with David Walley in Genoa, the couple had been living separate lives for eleven long years. It must have been a strange and wonderful reunion.
With Harriet now by his side, David embarked on an ambitious improvement program for his hot springs, erecting a lavish hotel at the site, and adding bath houses (including separate “vapor” and mud baths), cabins, and other amenities. According to an 1882 newspaper report, none other than carpenter John Hawkins built the original hotel. Business flourished. By 1870, assessment officials valued the Walleys’ hot springs real property at $10,000, and taxed them on another $3,000 of personal property as well. Luminaries including Mark Twain and stage driver Hank Monk are claimed to have spent time at Walley’s.
Visitors to the hot springs remarked on not only the Walleys’ attentive care but also the “wonderful medicinal qualities” of the waters. The Walleys warmly embraced such perceptions. David was listed under “physicians” in an 1867 business directory, while their hotel was characterized in the 1870 Census as a “hospital.” The hot springs were touted in advertisements as a cure for everything from rheumatism to dropsy, gout, dyspepsia, and even “scrofulous” afflictions (which one ad humorously misspelled).
With Harriet now by his side, David embarked on an ambitious improvement program for his hot springs, erecting a lavish hotel at the site, and adding bath houses (including separate “vapor” and mud baths), cabins, and other amenities. According to an 1882 newspaper report, none other than carpenter John Hawkins built the original hotel. Business flourished. By 1870, assessment officials valued the Walleys’ hot springs real property at $10,000, and taxed them on another $3,000 of personal property as well. Luminaries including Mark Twain and stage driver Hank Monk are claimed to have spent time at Walley’s.
Visitors to the hot springs remarked on not only the Walleys’ attentive care but also the “wonderful medicinal qualities” of the waters. The Walleys warmly embraced such perceptions. David was listed under “physicians” in an 1867 business directory, while their hotel was characterized in the 1870 Census as a “hospital.” The hot springs were touted in advertisements as a cure for everything from rheumatism to dropsy, gout, dyspepsia, and even “scrofulous” afflictions (which one ad humorously misspelled).
People came from far and wide to be treated for a wide array of diseases – even alcoholism. Jacob Kipp, a well-known and well-loved Black barber from Monitor, traveled to the hot springs for medical help, but died there shortly after arrival. “[L]iquor got the best of him and hastened him to the grave,” Kipp’s obituary noted. A second paper added, “poor Jake; the last spree was too much for him.”
In 1874, Woodfords native James Wade spent $72.50 for a 29-day stay at Walley’s Hot Springs for an unknown condition, a price that included board and bath at $1 a day. And his father, William B. Wade of Woodfords, spent his final days at Walley’s Hot Springs in April 1877 before succumbing to erysipelas (a bacterial infection of the skin); a physician named Dr. Smith charged Wade’s estate for three visits to attend Wade there in his final illness, at $10 apiece.
If the waters were considered curative, however, they didn’t miraculously erase David Walley’s own health issues. He passed away suddenly in March 1875, at just 52 years of age. He hadn’t bothered to make a will. Even worse for his widow, he’d failed to keep his life insurance payments up to date.
Harriet found herself not only forced into a lengthy probate of her husband’s estate, but also deeply in debt, with as much as $20,000 in encumbrances for improvements on the property. And the timing couldn’t have been worse. An economic slump was under way across the country, the Bank of California had just failed, and the local real estate market was terrible. The probate judge ordered all of Harriet’s property to be sold for the benefit of creditors – including the hotel where she lived. But with property values so low, it was possible even that frightful step might not be enough to cover the debt.
If a homestead declaration had been on file, Harriet’s home would have been protected. But that wasn’t the case. In fact, she and David had waived any claim to a homestead three years earlier in order to secure a mortgage loan from Judge D.W. Virgin.
In a surprising twist, Judge Virgin himself went to bat for Harriet, arguing that she had a de facto homestead in the property, despite her lack of paperwork. And in 1876, the Nevada Supreme Court agreed. Harriet still owed the money to her creditors, they ruled, and she would have to sell some of her personal property. But she was allowed to keep the hotel she called home.
If the waters were considered curative, however, they didn’t miraculously erase David Walley’s own health issues. He passed away suddenly in March 1875, at just 52 years of age. He hadn’t bothered to make a will. Even worse for his widow, he’d failed to keep his life insurance payments up to date.
Harriet found herself not only forced into a lengthy probate of her husband’s estate, but also deeply in debt, with as much as $20,000 in encumbrances for improvements on the property. And the timing couldn’t have been worse. An economic slump was under way across the country, the Bank of California had just failed, and the local real estate market was terrible. The probate judge ordered all of Harriet’s property to be sold for the benefit of creditors – including the hotel where she lived. But with property values so low, it was possible even that frightful step might not be enough to cover the debt.
If a homestead declaration had been on file, Harriet’s home would have been protected. But that wasn’t the case. In fact, she and David had waived any claim to a homestead three years earlier in order to secure a mortgage loan from Judge D.W. Virgin.
In a surprising twist, Judge Virgin himself went to bat for Harriet, arguing that she had a de facto homestead in the property, despite her lack of paperwork. And in 1876, the Nevada Supreme Court agreed. Harriet still owed the money to her creditors, they ruled, and she would have to sell some of her personal property. But she was allowed to keep the hotel she called home.
Harriet turned her considerable efforts and energy toward making the property profitable again. She raised prices, cut expenses, and ran glowing ads. The hot springs’ waters would “cleanse the system” of the effects of mercury, one advertisement claimed. Cripples would walk again, claimed another. Harriet organized dances and held masquerade balls. Locals could celebrate birthdays at the Hot Springs, or welcome the New Year there. She had a new dressing room built, upgraded the facilities, and improved the mud baths. By 1881 the hotel was described as containing 40 rooms, with improvements that had originally cost $100,000. Stages from Carson made a stop at the hot springs daily. And bit by bit, she retired nearly all of her remaining debt.
Harriet’s luck, it seemed, had finally turned. An 1887 earthquake wreaked major damage in nearby Genoa. But as the Genoa Weekly Courier reported that June, the seismic event not only increased the flow of water at the hot springs but made the water hotter than ever.
On January 9, 1897, Harriet eased herself down in her rocking chair, and there she passed away. She was 81 years old, and had been in increasingly frail health. But she had taken care of one final task. Just two weeks before she died, Harriet had paid $500 to stone mason W.E. Lindsey for a beautiful white marble monument to be erected on her husband David’s grave at Genoa Cemetery. That same headstone would mark her own final resting place, as well.
Harriet’s luck, it seemed, had finally turned. An 1887 earthquake wreaked major damage in nearby Genoa. But as the Genoa Weekly Courier reported that June, the seismic event not only increased the flow of water at the hot springs but made the water hotter than ever.
On January 9, 1897, Harriet eased herself down in her rocking chair, and there she passed away. She was 81 years old, and had been in increasingly frail health. But she had taken care of one final task. Just two weeks before she died, Harriet had paid $500 to stone mason W.E. Lindsey for a beautiful white marble monument to be erected on her husband David’s grave at Genoa Cemetery. That same headstone would mark her own final resting place, as well.
Harriet Walley’s decades-long stewardship of Walley’s Hot Springs has long been eclipsed by her husband, whose name is more frequently associated with the spa. But on March 22, 2025, Harriet‘s perseverance and hard work spanning more than three decades – from 1863 to 1896 — was honored by the Douglas County Historical Society’s “Women in History” program. Detailed research into Harriet’s life by Debbe Nye formed the basis for that nomination, and that same research is gratefully acknowledged as the basis for this story.
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