1880 Census – Rolling Stone
Update 39
Spring 1880
The fog was as thick as Salty’s mystery brew. Stevens and his crew were waiting on the pier, one final morning before they would take a boat to their next destination. The census of New SorGun was complete, and the group celebrated their accomplishment long into the night at Salty’s Pub. The fog was certainly thick this morning, but perhaps not as hazy as everyone on that pier felt – Stevens included.
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The rolling ride in SorGun Harbor left a few of Stevens co-workers with no choice but to give up the breakfast they had eaten earlier in the morning. But the cool air breathed new life into Stevens. It was difficult to leave the town that they had called home for the past month, but a new adventure awaited, and Stevens had grown accustomed to his nomadic profession.
The boat arrived at the river landing before mid-day. Stevens noticed Nug’s Hill rising in the distance. At first glance, it didn’t appear much had changed since Stevens last visit ten years earlier.
The road up the riverbank led to a small settlement with a few shops and houses scattered about. The smell of plowed dirt and cows reminded Stevens that they weren’t in New SorGun anymore. Stevens and his crew made their way to the local watering hole for a chance to fill their bellies before they got to work.
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“You folks are’a ways from home,” chuckled the owner as he cleared away a table for Stevens and his co-workers.
“We’ve been traveling so long, I’m not even sure where home is anymore,” replied Stevens, with a smile.
“Aaah, you’re the folks counting homes ‘round here, ain’t ya?” asked the owner. “My wife heard you were in New SorGun last time she was in town.”
“Yes sir, we’ve been all around the region. Fortunately we’re working toward the home stretch now,” said Stevens.
“Well, we may not be the biggest town around, but folks here are pretty proud of the little community we’ve managed to make here next to the quarry. Betcha didn’t know most of those big buildings in New SorGun can be traced back to our Quarrymen,” the owner said, proudly.
“Indeed, I did not know. But it was my intention to walk up to the quarry after we finished lunch here. I managed to visit 10 years ago when it was barely a hole in the ground, so naturally I’m curious to see how things have progressed,” Stevens said.
“Well, Nug is still running things up there. Be sure to tell him Joseph sent you – he’s got a regular table over there,” said Joseph, point to the corner.
Stevens thanked Joseph for his hospitality. The group of census workers finished up their meal and headed out to get some work done before the end of the day. Meanwhile, Stevens took a walk up the road leading to the quarry.
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The quarry had certainly expanded since Stevens’ visit 10 years earlier. Stone slabs and cut stone were being carted around in all directions, all while the sound of chisels and hammers created a percussion of beats that could almost be described as nature’s music.
A younger gentleman noticed Stevens walking around aimlessly.
“You look lost,” he shouted. “My name is Clyde Bartman, can I help you find something?”
“Good afternoon Mr. Bartman, my name is Fredric Stevens, my team and I are working on the Federal Census for this region and we just arrived here today so I wanted to take a look around,” replied Stevens.
“Well, Uncle Nug is busy at the moment, but I’d be happy to give you a quick tour,” said Clyde.
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As the two men explored the quarry, Stevens learned that Clyde had moved to the region 9 years earlier, after his Uncle Nug wrote to him explaining that he had begun work on a quarry. Clyde Bartman was the youngest of 6 siblings. His mother (Nug’s sister) and all of his extended family still lived in Wisconsin – well, all except for Nug. His uncle had been a frontiersman for as long as he could remember. Clyde said he could remember playing in the woods when he was little, pretending to hunt grizzlies, just like his favorite uncle.
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“10 years ago I didn’t know the first thing about rocks – except that they made a great splash when you tossed ‘em in the river,” said Clyde, as the two men walked over a pile of gravel. “Now I could probably give a university dissertation on sedimentary stone. I guess that’s what happens when you live and breathe rocks for 9 years.”
The two men walked over to a pit of stone on the outskirts of the quarry. “We’ve just begun work on this derrick. As soon as it’s finished we will be able to move stone of all size and shape,” said Bartman proudly.
“Having just visited towns like Steamer Bay, Porthaven and New SorGun, I imagine demand for your construction material is on the rise,” mentioned Stevens, as the two walked back to the quarry headquarters.
“The building boom that coincided with the railroads arrival has certainly helped our business,” admitted Bartman.
Stevens followed his guide inside the large structure. Inside was a mess of workers, tools, lumber and countless other knickknacks that Stevens couldn’t even begin to name.
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A makeshift office stood in one corner of the building with a simple desk and papers piled about. Peeking out from behind one of the stacks was an older gentleman, with a worn face and a permanent furrowed brow. Stevens recognized old man Nug immediately.
“Uncle, I wanted to introduce you to Mr. Fredric Stevens. He is in charge of the Federal Census out here in our neck of the woods,” said Clyde.
Nug glanced up and nodded, “I recall a brief meeting many years ago. You seem to have won your battle with Time, Mr. Stevens.”
Fredric Stevens blushed, “My old bones would say otherwise, but thank you warmly. Your little operation has exceeded all my expectations, sir – congratulations on your successful endeavor.”
The old man shifted slightly in his chair, “God has been gracious. I was a naïve vagabond all my life, chasing one adventure after the next… but never satisfied. I finally grew some roots and I have been blessed ever since.”
“I’m jealous, I’ve never been able to stay in one spot for long,” admitted Stevens.
Nug glanced at Stevens with his piercing eyes, “Hmm… A rolling stone,” he said with a sigh. ‘Gathers no moss,’ thought Stevens to himself as a silence came over the group.
“Well, our stone out there,” interrupted Clyde while pointing out the window, “it’s been covered in earth for centuries, after being molded and shaped by…” Clyde continued his lesson on sedimentary rock while Stevens watched Nug and thought about what he had said.
After a few days, Stevens and the census crew had tallied up the local population and were ready to head up the Rannug River and start the whole process over again.
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Ben’s Bend had grown considerably in the past decade, and Stevens was excited to meet up with Farmer Ben after all these years.
The first thing Stevens noticed was that the giant evergreen still stood tall, surrounded by acres of farmland. It was a reassuring site, and like the unchanging evergreen, Farmer Ben’s friendliness had not altered one bit. Stevens and his group were welcomed into Ben’s house like family, and they were treated to a fine country meal on that first evening.
Stevens was happy to learn from Ben that the area along the Rannug River continued to support more and more farmland each year. The community of growers managed to carve out a large swath of wilderness and mold it into land that provided food for thousands of people in the area.
A small crossroads on the north side of the river had even developed into a fledgling community, as traffic along the ever expanding roads in the region continued to grow.
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But despite the joy felt by Stevens as he reconnected with Ben and some of the other families that made their living far away from the comforts of New SorGun, he continued to replay what old man Nug had said to him earlier. Was his life simply a rolling stone, wandering from place to place without ever having a chance to settle down and allow life to take root? On his last night before moving on up the river, Stevens brought the subject up with Farmer Ben.
“Oh, I haven’t heard that proverb in a while,” said Ben.
“Nor I, but one way or another, Nug’s words have sunk in here and won’t get out,” Stevens said, pointing to his head. “I’ve never been bound to one place my entire life… he struck a nerve of truth. Now I’m wondering if I’ve missed my chance to put down roots of my own,” continued Stevens.
Ben gazed off into the distance for a moment before speaking up, “I’ve been a farmer my whole life, and I’ve seen a lot of different rocks in that time. Big ones, little ones, dirty ones that have been under the earth for ages and even river rocks that have been polished as smooth as an infant’s derrière.”
“But you know what,” Ben said, as he kicked a loose rock in the dirt. “I never found one that was a huckleberry above a persimmon, and I suppose that could be said for people too.”
Stevens nodded and began to speak “But…”
Ben cut him off. “Do you enjoy traveling, exploring where your profession takes you? I may be wrong, but you seem like a happy man.”
“Well... sure, I certainly don’t feel unhappy,” Stevens finally said as he stumbled around for a response.
“Fredric, I enjoy your company, moss or no moss,” Ben laughed. “Some folks live and die in the same town, and others move on before you can say ‘gallnipper,’ and thank God for that, otherwise this life would be dull indeed,” he continued.
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Ben unconsciously traced the dirt with his old boots. “I could pick up and leave here tomorrow… after all, it’s just another piece of dirt. Heck, I’ve moved across this entire country, but the same earth welcomes me hum no matter where I lay my diggings. My head is at ease when my heart is true.”
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Stevens struggled through a restless night of sleep before heading further upriver the next morning. He knew Farmer Ben was right; it shouldn't matter in the end, as long as he was true to himself. But perhaps after a lifetime on the move, maybe his heart was finally calling him home.
Replies:
Nedal2001, Gugu3, Huston, B.C builder, spursrule14, slickbg56, Vlasky, MTT9, Schulmanator, Sunv, Forthwall, urielgarcia, raynev1, NMUSpidey, iCities:
Thank you for the great comments and support!
APSMS: I was wondering if SAM 6 Klinker streets would satisfy the appearance of Corduroy paved roads? Just caught up on the last 6 updates. Very interesting. Glad to see the story progressing; it makes this CJ a lot more than just a bunch of small town pics and keeps us invested. Not sure if Stevens can really do anything about what he sees, though, since he's only around here about once every decade.
-Yeah, I think those would work pretty well – The problem I’ve noticed is getting various SAM streets to work together in close quarters. While trying to blend the brick and dirt SAM options, I’ve run into some fun overriding issues that can get a little frustrating. And regarding Stevens, when he first appeared I really didn’t think about him becoming a regular character, but it seems natural to have a protagonist carry the reader through NSG every 10 years (hence the recurring role). Not sure what I’m going to do in 1890 though – he’ll be 68 by then…
Charles Darwin: I can't wait to see some beautiful rural landscapes. I wonder if we're going to see something like New Sorgun in 1860-ish (a small village surrounded by fields and forests), or of we'll get a look at some hyper-realistic 1800's country side, where everyone owns a farm, far from each other, and each property takes up acres of agriculture. Either way, i know that i especially can't wait until the 20th century comes around, where the streets are ruled by urban sprawl, industrial development and automobiles! I love seeing the Sorgun Bay develop, this is really quite a spectacular series SimCoug!
-Thank you very much – I wish I could keep things as realistic as possible, but for many parts (size of 19th century farms, etc) I’m just going off of imagination. I could double down and do the extra research, but I’d like to get an update out more than once every few months 
NMUSpidey: I missed the last one, but I just went and read it. Those pictures are simply stunning, wow. And it doesn't surprise me that Mr. Finch is a bit defensive about his HR practices. We're still a few years (decades?) away from workers' rights really coming to the forefront of politically hot issues, but they were certainly important for a long time before that, regardless of how much attention was paid to them. Great story, great entry. It strikes me that Mr. Finch knew of the murder before he was told that day...
-Hehe… oops, I probably screwed up somehow. I definitely have a much greater appreciation for writers after attempting to add more of a story element to this CJ.
DUKE-OF-MAYHEM: Wow, amazing CJ SimCoug! I heard you had the best one in Simtropolis and over the last few days I've read your entie CJ from beginning to this current entry and cant get enough of it! It's beautifully done and I love the neat stories you incorporate into it. I've come to love and admire New SorGun and surrounding communities and would hate to see it lose out against NPRR's Steamer's Bay, it was sad to hear that Mr. Delin's Porthaven was bought out by the NPRR 
One thing I noticed absent was with all the maritime traffic off the coast of SorGun and a huge island too out in the water, is there a lighthouse somewhere being a beacon of safety and navigation in the region?
-Thank you for such a nice comment! The battle between New SorGun and Steamer Bay will continue to be one of the overriding stories as we close in on the 20th century. I’ll be attempting to include more ships and boats as we go along, but unfortunately there is a dearth of era appropriate SC4 ship models, so the waterways would get pretty repetitive if I attempted to make things look much busier. But there may be a few things on the horizon that may alleviate that problem a bit
-
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