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on a donkey i huricane deck
A dangerous and adventurous ride across a continent - with sneaky asides from the donkey! A classic
262 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2009
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October 25, 2016
When I first saw this title at Gutenberg, I wondered why the author chose to cross the United States east to west while riding a donkey, but I didn't explore further than the title at the time. So when I started reading I was surprised to learn that the trip was not a trek of exploration or even a poor man moving his home in the only way he could think to manage. This trip was a result of a bet made by the author and a "friend" (who is always referred to in that manner, never by name). The trip took place in 1896 and believe it or not, on the road our author met two other men doing similar stunts: one going east to west by bicycle, the other walking west to east, both to try to win bets. Around the World in Eighty Days had been published in 1873, but I can only assume that book might have been the inspiration for these voyages. Or maybe the catalyst was something aged in a bottle, who knows?
Woodward never says exactly how the challenge came about, but here are the details:
I had agreed with a friend to forfeit to him five thousand dollars, in case I should fail to make a donkey trip from New York to San Francisco in three hundred and forty-one days, under the following conditions:
Start from New York City, without a dollar in pocket and without begging, borrowing, or stealing, procure a donkey, and, riding or leading the beast, earn my way across the continent to San Francisco, and register at its leading hotel within the schedule time. I must cover the whole distance with a donkey by road or trail only; announce in a prominent newspaper of New York my start, at least twenty-four hours in advance, and mention the hour, day, and starting point. Seated on a donkey, I must parade on portions of Broadway, Fourteenth and Twenty-third Streets, Fifth, Madison, and West End Avenues; both the donkey and I must wear spectacles, and I a frock-coat and "plug" hat, but, the latter to be discarded at pleasure when once across the Mississippi River, the coat to be worn to San Francisco.
The first donkey Woodward gets is named Macaroni. But he proved to be prone to sickness and was replaced quickly, by a new donkey whose name turned out to be Mac A'Rony. Our author eventually adds another donkey, which of course he called Cheese. For various reasons, Cheese had to be replaced repeatedly. I think the final official count was Cheese V, but I lost track. There were eventually three other donkeys added to the herd, a man who acted as general camp help, and a pup that grew into a very large dog, a surprising cross between a bloodhound and a mastiff. The dog's name? Donkeyota, called Don for short.
This intrepid group made their way across country, selling photos, doing odd jobs at times to pay for meals, giving lectures, even advertising pharmaceuticals. Woodward wrote a weekly article that was sent in to newspapers, and according to him, the entire country was following his progress and knew all about him. I guess there was not much else going on in 1896. Oh, meow. That sounds awful, but I found it hard to believe that such a thing could capture the attention of a nation the way he claimed it did.
Anyway, he tells of their adventures, and I must say I felt sorry for poor Mac A'Rony. He was constantly being kidnapped by college students (they put skates on him once and set him loose on a frozen canal....he was lucky he didn't break all four legs). All the donkeys also got drunk many times, not always by their own choice, although Mac was sometimes his own worst enemy, like when he ate a bunch of dried apples and then drank gallons of water. Not a good thing for any donkey's tummy to deal with!
Mac didn't appreciate the value of a bridge over any stream or river and usually had to be either carried or wheelbarrowed across those donkey-eating monsters. I wondered about saddle sores for all the donkeys. Woodward never mentioned any problem with that until they were crossing the Sierra Nevada mountains. That means the majority of the trip was made with no sores appearing, which is wonderful. Makes up a little for all those pranks the college boys (and that bunch of wild cowboys) played.
At first I was irritated by Woodward's tendency to work bad puns into his story. It seemed like he was trying too hard to be a smart-aleck, and I wanted to smack him for it. But after he left Chicago, he settled down a bit. He also began alternating his writing duties with Mac A'Rony. One chapter was written from the author's point of view, the other was written from Mac's. That was cute, and I would have liked the whole book better if he had done that right from the start.
So did we all get to San Francisco in time to win our bet? Only Mac and Cheese and I know, and none of us are telling. You'll have to spend a little time on the hurricane deck yourself to find out!
(By the way, a plug hat is a stovepipe or top hat, and there are some wonderful pictures of everyone in the edition of this book at Gutenberg.)
Woodward never says exactly how the challenge came about, but here are the details:
I had agreed with a friend to forfeit to him five thousand dollars, in case I should fail to make a donkey trip from New York to San Francisco in three hundred and forty-one days, under the following conditions:
Start from New York City, without a dollar in pocket and without begging, borrowing, or stealing, procure a donkey, and, riding or leading the beast, earn my way across the continent to San Francisco, and register at its leading hotel within the schedule time. I must cover the whole distance with a donkey by road or trail only; announce in a prominent newspaper of New York my start, at least twenty-four hours in advance, and mention the hour, day, and starting point. Seated on a donkey, I must parade on portions of Broadway, Fourteenth and Twenty-third Streets, Fifth, Madison, and West End Avenues; both the donkey and I must wear spectacles, and I a frock-coat and "plug" hat, but, the latter to be discarded at pleasure when once across the Mississippi River, the coat to be worn to San Francisco.
The first donkey Woodward gets is named Macaroni. But he proved to be prone to sickness and was replaced quickly, by a new donkey whose name turned out to be Mac A'Rony. Our author eventually adds another donkey, which of course he called Cheese. For various reasons, Cheese had to be replaced repeatedly. I think the final official count was Cheese V, but I lost track. There were eventually three other donkeys added to the herd, a man who acted as general camp help, and a pup that grew into a very large dog, a surprising cross between a bloodhound and a mastiff. The dog's name? Donkeyota, called Don for short.
This intrepid group made their way across country, selling photos, doing odd jobs at times to pay for meals, giving lectures, even advertising pharmaceuticals. Woodward wrote a weekly article that was sent in to newspapers, and according to him, the entire country was following his progress and knew all about him. I guess there was not much else going on in 1896. Oh, meow. That sounds awful, but I found it hard to believe that such a thing could capture the attention of a nation the way he claimed it did.
Anyway, he tells of their adventures, and I must say I felt sorry for poor Mac A'Rony. He was constantly being kidnapped by college students (they put skates on him once and set him loose on a frozen canal....he was lucky he didn't break all four legs). All the donkeys also got drunk many times, not always by their own choice, although Mac was sometimes his own worst enemy, like when he ate a bunch of dried apples and then drank gallons of water. Not a good thing for any donkey's tummy to deal with!
Mac didn't appreciate the value of a bridge over any stream or river and usually had to be either carried or wheelbarrowed across those donkey-eating monsters. I wondered about saddle sores for all the donkeys. Woodward never mentioned any problem with that until they were crossing the Sierra Nevada mountains. That means the majority of the trip was made with no sores appearing, which is wonderful. Makes up a little for all those pranks the college boys (and that bunch of wild cowboys) played.
At first I was irritated by Woodward's tendency to work bad puns into his story. It seemed like he was trying too hard to be a smart-aleck, and I wanted to smack him for it. But after he left Chicago, he settled down a bit. He also began alternating his writing duties with Mac A'Rony. One chapter was written from the author's point of view, the other was written from Mac's. That was cute, and I would have liked the whole book better if he had done that right from the start.
So did we all get to San Francisco in time to win our bet? Only Mac and Cheese and I know, and none of us are telling. You'll have to spend a little time on the hurricane deck yourself to find out!
(By the way, a plug hat is a stovepipe or top hat, and there are some wonderful pictures of everyone in the edition of this book at Gutenberg.)
Displaying 1 of 1 review