History of Diamond Jo Reynolds

DIAMOND JO REYNOLDS

STARTED HIS RIVERBOAT CAREER IN QUAD CITIES

Roustabout Song

I rousted on the Rob Roy, I rousted on the Lee,
I rousted on the Belle La Cross, she got away with me.
The Libby is a good boat, and so am the Lee,
but the Old Diamond Jo, She's too much for me.
Get on board, get on board, we's goin' up the river, get on board...

From Capt F. A. Whitney 1923 Burlington Saturday Evening Post

In order to avoid confusion Reynolds adopted a trade mark to be used in marking and shipping his bales of furs, a very simple one consisting of the letters JO enclosed by four short straight lines Joined in the shape of a diamond, and one which anyone could make and anyone would could read~"Diamond JO," Later, when he began buying wheat, he had all his sacks marked-"STOLEN FROM DIAMOND JO." As he never sold any sacks, he and his agents and employees could and did claim all sacks bearing his trade mark. 

From "Diamond Jo was For Many Years The Most Picturesque Figure On The Mississippi," written by Walter Blair.

DIAMOND JO,
THE PATHETIC STORY OF HIS DEATH, BY A WITNESS

Davenport Democrat 
August, 1896

His Coffin Built Within his Hearing as he Lay Dying-His Checkered Life-How he got His Nickname-His Pet Mine Brought a Fortune.

No name, says the Philadelphia Times, is more familiar to the miner west, and few more so to the capitalist than that of Diamond Jo Reynolds. All sorts of stories have been circulated about his life, how he got his name, and when and where he died. Some are true, others fiction. We were all gathered about the board of a miner's table, at Cripple Creek, Colo., when the following narratives were told by Dr. Sydney R. Bartlett, the mine expert, who had been a roommate at Harvard with Blake Reynolds, the only son of the famous "Jo."
The doctor was also an expert in the employ of Reynolds and played an important and gruesome part of the time of the old mans death. Colorado mines and ores were discussed, and then the conversation turned on Arizona, when the "Congress" mine was spoken of, and with it its former owner Diamond JO. "He was the sharpest man on a bargain and withal the most generous man I've ever "known", said the doctor. "He had lame-hip disease, which was brought on when he was a boy. It illustrated the stuff he was made of. He had a jack knife, and in drinking at an air hole in the ice it fell through. Reynolds went to his home, got an ax and chopped a hole in the ice large enough to admit his body. And dove in, rescued his knife and caught a cold, resulting in a disease which lamed him for life. He told me," continued the doctor, "that he started at 18 years of age with $25 with which he bought a $45 heifer, leaving him $20 in debt, and from that time up to his dying day he had never been out of debt, despite the fact he left $7,000,0000.

"The true story of his getting the name of Diamond Jo was in this wise: Jo Davidson owned a number of steamboats plying on the upper Mississippi, while Jo Reynolds owned boats' running south on the river to New Orleans. Both lines were known as the "Jo Steamers," and all bales and goods were marked via Jo line. The confounding of the two resulted in Reynolds drawing a diamond around the Jo on all goods shipped, and thereafter he was Diamond Jo, and in no way did the appellation come from the fact that he had a fondness for wearing the precious stone.

"As a plunger the old man has had few equals. One of his greatest was the Del Pasco mine, in Arizona, but its turning out badly only strengthened his determination to secure a world beater, and it was about this time he set his heart on the "Congress" mine, which even today is one of Arizona's greatest producers. He paid $39,000 for the property and it was 65 miles from Prescott and any railroad. It was here the old man died. I went out to make an examination of the property for Reynolds, and handled assays and the requisition department of the place, and they were lively days out there. The story of Reynold's death has not been reported correctly, so I'll tell you the facts.

" It was in February, 1890, and the rains were on. Outside of the mill we had a little shanty, a bunk house, and there we all slept. Never shall I forget that February night. Jo had been complaining for several days, though he was up and about the mine and mill each day. One afternoon he was taken down suddenly, and I undressed him and put him to bed in one of my own night gowns. Toward evening he grew worse, and the storm outside was fearful. About 6 o'clock I knew he was dying. His desperate efforts to breathe were frightful. His head was on my shoulder. Then it was the thought struck me to get his body to Prescott, for we had no ice, and it was a mighty bad road, covering 65 miles, and a start must be made at midnight, if the one train daily out of Prescott was to be caught.

About 9 o'clock I ordered the mill carpenter to come to the bunk house, and whispered for him to knock some boards together for a coffin, and in a few minutes, above the blowing outside, I could hear the nails being driven home in poor old Jo's coffin, and he not dead yet. It was pretty tough, I assure you, and that night made things seem worse. About midnight he died, and by 1 o'clock in the morning we had the body in the crude coffin, on one of the wagons, and its relay of six mules and its Mexican drivers, and the start for Prescott was made. It took the outfit just 24 hours to make the trip, and was we caught the one train out of Prescott. It was a sad ending of a great man and a terrible journey."

"And what became of the mine?" asked one of the men at the table. "It was sold that July," said the doctor, "for $1,500,000." 

found in "Rivermen Davenport, Iowa" compiled by Georgeann McClure