It was a role for which he had absolutely no training. PeterWild, editor of this volume, reports that he was "uneducated" and"had a defective right eye and a speech impediment," and Van Dykehimself -- who writes throughout in the third person -- says that"he was odd . . . and in the evenings read a book instead of playingcards with the others." But these characteristics gave him a certaindistance, and when he began to write his reminiscences four decadeslater he had a clarity of observation with which few others wouldlikely have been blessed."Daggett" is an odd but engaging book. Dix Van Dyke's prosewill not be recommended to students of writing, yet it has aprimitive rhythm and a wry humor that more than compensate for itsnaivete. Somehow it strikes just the right tone for taking us backto a time that, though not really all so long ago, seems to haveoccurred in another universe.The Mojave Desert in the years Van Dyke lived and farmed therewas a place where a keen observer could see the face of Americachanging, and Van Dyke was nothing if not a keen observer. As Wildwrites, "This is not local history with the i's dotted and the t'scrossed but one man's view of an area's final transition from afrontier to civilization," an account written "not by a historian,but by a man who was there, involved, sometimes hotly, with thepeople and events swirling about him."They were not, by and large, great events. Theodore Van Dykewas a person of sufficient renown that he was visited by John Muir,the naturalist, and others of somewhat lesser note, but for the mostpart this is a chronicle of ordinary people living ordinary lives,albeit it in a quite extraordinary place:"Who can define the lure and enchantment of the desert? Manyhave felt it, but none have been able to explain it or the reasonfor it. The overwhelming appeal may be the brilliant, tinted skiesand the eternal sunshine or the marvelous colors of the desertlandscape with its constantly varying shades and shadowsscintillating in the sun. Maybe it is the boundless, vast panoramaof hills and mountains that constantly unfurls before the travelerthat fires the imagination and induces mankind to attempt to performimpossible feats. Yet all over the great desert one finds evidenceof futile hopes: abandoned mines, mill sites, land clearings,orchards, deserted homesteads, and the ruins of farms and otherenterprises that were started and abandoned."American mythology has it that those who undertook this effortwere cowboys, claim-jumpers and other rough and ready men. Indeed afew of these found their way to Daggett, occasionally with violentconsequences. But "most of the inhabitants were industrious,honorable men who paid their debts, kept their word, and werewilling to help their fellows." A number of the local women werewhores -- notably Fat Etta, who adopted "an abandoned female Mexicanbaby and . . . gave up her profession before the girl became oldenough to learn anything about it" -- but most were ordinaryhousewives. There were a handful of black residents, thebeneficiaries of "local tolerance" cut short by a murder, as well asPaiute Indians and Chinese.All of these people tried to make their way in and on theland. Few had much success and in time all faded away: "The desertwas changing from an old era to a new era. No one yet realized it.The change came about gradually. The old inhabitants of the desertwere dying off and a new element replacing them. The old pioneers'ways, faults and virtues were to become traditions." Within a decadeof Van Dyke's arrival, "automobiles were no longer a curiosity," butin his agreeably dyspeptic view, the real end of the good old dayscame with the Uplift, brought in the hands of "a sanctimoniousclique who gathered in the schoolhouse each Sunday and indulged innoisy manifestations of piety." Sic transit gloria mundi.Jonathan Yardley's Internet address is yardleyj@clark.net.
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