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and we realized that he was badly injured. His right shoulder was crushed and his arm was injured. When I took off his boots blood poured from them and a large hole just above his right hip could be seen. Blood was flowing from his side. JAMES was a strong man in the prime of his life, but I could see that he was getting weaker. Something must be done and that quickly.
The opener of the shaft came and looked at JAMES' shoulder and said that his arm would have to be taken off. JAMES heard him and cried out, "No, no. I won't have it off." He was growing weaker now and getting very weak. Someone said, "Let's take him down to Leadville. There is a Sister Hospital just opened up there." I had not known this. We hurriedly placed some boards together and carried him to Leadville, less than a mile away. JAMES was growing weaker but was not complaining. He surely had a lot of nerve. Not even a groan came from his lips. It was rough carrying. The hour was midnight. When we reached the hospital, they opened the door and we carried JAMES in. A doctor instructed us to lay him on a platform or a table and he made a quick examination; then he shook his head. We understood.
I went back to my cabin and prepared to go to work at the shaft by seven o'clock a. m. It was a one man shift. It was important that I should be on time and also I wanted to know how the accident occurred. There was a man from Scranton, Pennsylvania who operated the hoisting of the bucket. His name was REES. As the bucket was hoisted above the trap doors on top of the shaft he failed to close them. A one hundred and fifty pound truck was kept close by to
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lower heavy buckets on. Then it was pushed out and dumped. When he pushed the truck it fell down the shaft 260 feet and struck JAMES. He failed to close the trap door. I worked until three o'clock, the end of my shift. I felt badly about my partner, JAMES. I hurried to my cabin, cleaned up a bit. I had only the one suit that I worked in.
Then I went down to Leadville. When I came to the hospital door an elderly sister met me and asked if the injured man we brought in last night was my partner. I told her that he was. Then she told me he was dying and that if I had any questions to ask him I should ask them quickly, that he would soon be unconscious. As I reached his bedside he faintly recognized me. I asked him about his relatives. He had never told me anything about them. He faintly answered, "Bag Knorving"-he had an old-fashioned carpet bag. Knorving he should have about two hundred dollars." I asked him about it. He whispered faintly "Corner cabin. Cobble stone." These words came faintly, slower and slower. JAMES was dying far from his home in Wales. I stood by seeing my partner passing out. After JAMES died, I left the hospital and notified all hands that worked at the shaft. The next morning four of us dug his grave outside of Leadville in ground set aside for that purpose as many unknown men were being buried there.
Death comes quickly to one in sickness or to one who gets injured here. They lose their identity and surroundings. We prepared to bury JAMES late in the afternoon. Just five of us carried him all the way to the grave. A Cornish miner had an extra suit of
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clothes which he loaned me for the funeral as I had no extra suit for that occasion. After we filled the grave up I spoke to Mr. REES, the man from Scranton, Pennsylvania, who had made the mistake in pushing the truck into the open shaft, causing the accident to JAMES. I told him to come with me to my cabin.
I looked for JAMES' money and his belongings there. We searched the cabin in one corner. We found the cobble stone and right behind it in a hole we found his leather pocketbook with nearly two hundred dollars in it. Then we looked through his clothes and then searched his satchel or carpetbag. In it we found a half-written letter to a friend in Joplin, Missouri. We also found the photograph of a young woman on a card. We also found a slip of paper with a name and an address on it. Betsy JAMES, 127 Wellington St., Glamorganshire, S. Wales. I wrote to that address the William JAMES was seriously hurt. A few months later I received a reply from Mrs. JAMES stating that she had a son in America somewhere.
I wrote her again that William JAMES had died and was buried in Leadville and that I had some money belonging to JAMES and I would like to send it to his relatives and could she send me references that she had a son. I enclosed the young woman's photograph in the letter. After some waiting I received a letter informing me that she had a son here and the photo of the young woman was also verified. As there was some little expense from the funeral which I paid and what was left I took to the bank at Leadville and received a draft from them for twenty-seven pounds and ten shillings. This amount I sent to his mother.
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Later on another letter came from her thanking me for the money sent and stating that her son had some money in a bank and could it be found out some way? Having no papers or other information, I could not find out whether he had or not. At least there were no papers to that effect in his valise.
As I was walking the street one day in Leadville, I heard a voice say, "Hello, FRANCIS." I looked back to see who it was and found that it came from my first partner, Frank BRISBANE, who left me back in the mountains six months ago. He said he was bookkeeper for the Clareton Hotel and was getting along all right. He persuaded me to come to a show with him that night, that it would not cost us anything. My work at the shaft commenced at 11 o'clock p. m., so I thought I could go and see the show. BRISBANE told me the play was "Rip Van Winkle". I was not in the habit of going to shows. I noticed as we went in we passed the doorkeeper with a nod, then we ascended a flight of stairs. When we landed on the second floor there was a drinking bar. The most kind of drinks was champagne. BRISBANE led the way to a row of private boxes. We selected one and both sat down. I noticed that there were two rows of private boxes curtained all around on each side. The opening could be in front to look down on the stage. Boxes on the opposite side were all occupied by men and girls drinking. The floor below was crowded with rough miners.
The music started with piano, violin, and cornet. I was fond of music and I listened to the strains of music. My partner, BRISBANE, said to me, "I am going
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downstairs for a while," and I said to him, "All right, will wait." As I listened intently to the music, a woman's voice said, "Don't you want company?" I noticed she was very young and was dressed as if she was a stage girl. I said to her, "I have a partner," and she withdrew. The play was now beginning. I was getting interested in the acting. There were no dull minutes. When an actress pleased the audience there was a shower of gold pieces thrown to her and at her feet. This would cause her to come back for an encore and to pick up all the pieces of gold. Many of these gold pieces were ten dollars and twenty dollars. Such men as Travor HILL would throw the money around by the thousands of dollars when they were pleased with the play.
All these scenes were new to me. I finally wondered why my partner did not return. It was now nearing the time when I would have to leave so as to be at the shaft ready for work by 11 o'clock. As I leaned over the railing looking down on the stage, a voice said, "Hello!" I turned around in my chair and a young girl had parted the curtains and came in. She smiled and said, "A fine show, ain't it?" I said, "Yes." With that she sat down in my lap. She began to pet and smiled some more. She was real young and nice looking. She had on a light gauzy dress and looked as if she were a stage girl. It was supposed that when a girl came to interest you that you would order champagne from the bar nearby. It would cost about three dollars per glass. She would receive a per cent from the drinks. It was time now for me to
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treat or retreat. I made up my mind to retreat, which I did.
As I passed the bar, several girls were standing near and they followed me to the top of the stairway saying, "Where are you going?" I told them I was coming back again. I was glad to get on the outside. I suspicioned that Mr. BRISBANE had something to do with sending those girls to me. I always had on my working clothes. It was money those girls wanted. Clothes made no impression on them. Money was their sole object and the making of money was good in Leadville, but what a life! Soon they fade.
I hurried back to my cabin and got ready to go to work in a short time. What a change from music and laughter to the bottom of a gloomy and wet shaft for eight hours. How lonesome! Your only companions are a pick and shovel and a stick of dynamite. One month after BRISBANE left me at the theater, I accidentally met him on the street. He was walking slowly and was looking very sick. I asked him what was wrong and he told me he was so weak and sick and that he was going to his room. He hinted to me that he had been going too fast since he came to Leadville. I was sorry for him. He was an engineer. He had a good education and a home in Saginaw, Michigan. He also had a wife and two small children. His father, Gen. BRISBANE, took position hunting Indians for the U. S. Government who were implicated in Gen. CUSTER's massacre. I tried to find out what became of Frank BRISBANE. He passed out of my life. I often wondered whatever became of him.
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I went back to my cabin thinking about the uncertainty of health and life. I decided that I ought to have another partner. I had a half brother a few years younger than myself who was a coal miner in Mahanoy City, Pennsylvania. I sent for him to come to Leadville. I sent him a tracing to show him how to find my cabin on Stray Horse Gulch. I was now working in a shaft called "Montana Load". This was a very wet and dangerous shaft. It had caved in several times on account of bad timbering. On each shift there were two men.
A new man came to me and said, "Superintendent?" I told him to work with me. We both went down into the shaft in the same bucket. With one hand you held your candle while the other grasped the rope attached to the bucket with one foot outside to guide it and to keep it from springing around and to keep the bucket from striking the timbers that were projecting out into the shaft. I told my partner to hold fast to the rope with both hands. He let his candle drop if he was not sure of one hand holt. The wooden drum that dropped us down was not round and would suddenly let us go rapidly for twenty feet. This was repeated all the way down. If there was no swinging of the bucket or striking of timbers, it would not be so dangerous. When we reached the bottom of the shaft and got out of the bucket my companion drew a long breath and did not speak. If he did he knew it would be troublesome. By the light of the candle I could see his pale face. Breathing was difficult, caused by black damp. We could not strike a match. Only the best sperm candles would burn when dynamite was
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near. Its fumes gave you a terrible headache. My pard, as we called each other with only a slight acquaintance, told me he wanted to work so that he could send some money home to his parents in England. I like the way he talked and I had a feeling that he would not be able to work his eight hours. There was a space behind the timbers 150 feet up the shaft that at that place had caved in frequently. Mud and small pieces of rock would fall down on our heads, causing a feeling that the shaft was closing in on us. My pard said, "Let me go up. It is too wet. I ma getting weak and can't work." I signaled to the man on top to hoist slowly, man coming up. Three rings. We signaled by pulling a small rope attached to a clapper placed near the hoisting man.
I had no companion to work with me the next day. After my day's work, I went to my cabin where my partner was and found him in his rough bed suffering from rheumatism. I was sorry for him. His hopes were not bright. I do not know what became of him.
The bottom of the shaft was not nearing where we should be. One morning as I came to the top of the shaft to commence work at seven o'clock a. m., I was told by Mr. LOVE, superintendent, that he had charge of the six men; that shaft had closed in near the bottom. He gave me instructions about timbering, to make the shaft smaller. It was now seven o'clock in the morning. I stepped into the bucket and I was lowered down to the place 150 feet from the bottom; the place where the former cave-in occurred. It was poorly timbered. The shaft narrowed at that
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point. The timbers appeared to be twisted. Let me say that I knew the danger of going 150 feet below and staying there eight hours.
When I was lowered to the bottom of the shaft I commenced to load the bucket with mud and water. I could not lower it any. I noticed that mud came from the space behind the timbers 150 feet from the bottom of the shaft. I knew it was useless to keep sending the loose mud up as the two shifts did before me. It was like poking your finger in the river and pulling it out and trying to see the hole. With a plan in my mind, I rang the bell to be hoisted up.
I found Mr. PETERSON, one of the owners. He was anxious to know how conditions were. I told him and then I told him the plan I had in mind to keep the shaft the same size. I prepared short pieces of boards, then I descended down the shaft with them in the bucket. It took me near two hours to place them in position. After this was completed I began to fill the bucket. After a few buckets of mud and water were taken out of the way, I rang the bell for them to send down timbers full size. After placing the first set in place it completely stopped the caving in at the bottom. I rang the bell again to hoist me up. When I reached the top of the shaft, Mr. ANDERSON, one of the company, stepped up to me and said, "Well, you stopped the caving in." He looked pleased. I tried to speak back to him but could not utter a word. My voice was gone. It was some time after that I had warmed myself by a wood fire that my voice came slowly back. I had been
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down the shaft over fourteen hours. In all this time I had not used my voice, any. It was chilly and very wet. Mr. PETERSON would not let the 11 o'clock shift change me so that is why I stayed down over two shifts.
The next morning when I came to work Mr. PETERSON came to me and told me to take charge of the timbering and the workers with increased pay. With the continued sinking good signs of ore were commencing to show.
Let me relate one incident that took place in this shaft. On this shift I worked alone. I had charged a hole with very high explosives, lighted the fuse and rang the bell; stepping quickly into the bucket I was hoisted up six feet. The bucket stopped. I could feel a slight jerking movement on the ropes. With every movement I expected to be hoisted away from the blast. I realized there must be something wrong with the machinery on top. I was always customary when a charge was lighted to hoist quickly when the bell rang. If possible there should not be one second's delay. Your safety depended on your being clear out of the shaft because of flying rocks. For me to stay in the bucket when a blast exploded meant death. I must do something. The fuse was burning under six inches of water. I jumped out of the bucket, drew my pocket knife out, reached under the water where the hole was and cut the fuse off close to the hole. I noticed that the fuse had not quite burned to where I had cut it off. What a relief! Had I delayed acting quickly it would have been too late.
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When I looked up to see the bucket, it was gone. It seemed that when I leaped out, my weight relieved the strain on the hoisting drum. I rang the bell for them to send down the bucket so I could go up and prepare another charge. This was done. As I reached the top of the shaft, they told me what had happened. The motive power was a horse and when I gave a signal to hoist, the horse balked after going a few steps and would not do any pulling. They were all greatly excited, knowing the dangerous position I was in. I worked in this shaft several weeks longer. They had good signs of mineral. The company decided to stop and wait for buyers to come.
After hunting around for a day or two I found work at a shaft only sixty feet deep. There was only work for two men, one on the bottom digging and the other to turn the windlass. I was to do the digging. I noticed that when I came to work the next morning, a heavy rifle and a revolver were lying on the ground. I asked the windlass man why he had guns lying around and if they were loaded. He told me that both of them were loaded. He told me that both of them were loaded and ready for use. Again I asked him for what purpose; and he said, "Do you see that shaft down the mountain about 500 feet. It is on a line with this shaft that we are sinking here. Those fellows down there say that we are on their claim and if we did not get off soon they would come up and shoot us off." The windlass man had told them that he would not get off and that he would go back down and tell the one who sent him to start shooting and that he was some shooter himself. I also
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found out from that several men he had employed before me had quit. They did not like to be down in the shaft as they would be helpless there should those men below come up and back up their words. Having never seen the men closely, I could not tell how rough they were. But I needed work and I worked there two weeks. Nothing happened in that time.
It was now nearing the time for my half-brother, Tom, to arrive in Leadville. At certain times, I would go down to Leadville and look around. Rough men, fully armed, hung around dance halls in full swing. Prospecting miners from the mountains were showing ore samples. All were greatly excited. One afternoon I stood on State Street, opposite a new opera house being built. The place where I was standing, many gambling houses were near. All of them had tough records. A man came up behind me and then stood beside me. He commenced to speak about new buildings going up all around us. Then he began to speak about the muddy streets. He spoke about the muddy streets. He spoke about Nevada where he came from. He said the streets there were macademized. All this time I was looking him over. I judged him to be about 35 years old. He did not look like a slicker nor a miner. While he was speaking, I noticed three young men sitting down on the opposite side of the street. I could tell by the way they looked over at us, that they were interested, but I could not hear what they said. As I looked up the street I saw a well dressed man standing. He had on a high hat and was swing a cane. I had a feeling that he had been watching us.
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Again, I had a feeling that this was another Detroit experience. But I acted as if I had not seen anything. All this time the Nevada man was talking. He asked me what I was doing. I told him shaft sinking; that my cabin was on Stray Horse Gulch. By the way, he said, would you mind taking a hand full of circulars and put them up at the half-way house? You have to pass it on your way. I'll pay you two dollar for it. Then I asked him what he was advertising. He said things that miners like in their cabins-knives and forks, spoons, and jewelry, to send back home. Then I asked quietly where have you now got this ware? He jerked his thumb quickly over the shoulder. Then I said to him, why don't you take those bills to Half-way House yourself and save two dollars? Well, he said, if I am able to pay two dollars easy money to you, ain't that all right? I said to him, "No, it isn't." With that I turned to him. "You are fooling your time away with me trying to get me back in these dens. So look for better fishing and get away from me." He kept looking away from me and he looked scared. I did get warmed up over what he was trying to do, but he left quickly.
Then suddenly I heard a voice say, "What is the trouble about?" I turned around to see who it was speaking. There he stood, the man with the top hat and cane, fully dressed and really sporty and a gambler. I said to him, "You both know each other and before you could get me away from here, you would have to pick me up and carry me away." Then he said, "That fellow who was trying to work you, he got worked that way and he now tried to work you to get
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even." I walked over to the three men across the street. They said to me, "He didn't get you." They must have known him. "We thought sure he had you."
It was now getting close to the time for my half-brother, Tom, to arrive in Leadville. One evening when I came in from work, I found him in the cabin. We exchanged greetings. After supper was over, we laid our plans. I told him where I was working and also told him of the conditions of the shaft. We were working with guns lying around. Tom thought it best for me to quit. He said those fellows working below may come up and commence shooting. The job doesn't pay you enough to work and fight. Tom and myself walked around for several days and looked at many prospective holes.
I went to California Gulch, investigating to see the miners panning
for gold. I came to a place on the side of the Gulch, a drift driven
in the rock twenty feet. I could see a streak of pure silver in the
rock. This was a rich strike. We then walked up the Gulch several
miles. The day was fine. In the month of August, date 14th.
We continued on to nearly the top of the mountain. We found some
snow and it was packed hard. I could not form it into snowballs.
It would not hold together. It structure was like sand particles.
Small flowers were growing near the snow. The grass was strikingly
green. It was now time for us to return to our cabin. As we
came down the mountain, in many places, the grass looked like a well kept
lawn.
In one spot, less than one acre, we found many
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buffalo heads lying close together as if they had been slaughtered. The bones were perfectly dry. I could see buffalo trails all around. Should you walk on the trail going down it would surely lead you to water. Those trails were hard beaten paths. Many thousands of them must have tramped to those grazing spots many years. A live buffalo was never seen near Leadville for years in 1878-1879, but their trails will remain for years to come.
Brother Tom and myself enjoyed those new and wonderful surroundings. Gold and silver was the only topic of conversation in Leadville those days. One evening as I came home I noticed a jack or a burro near my cabin door and inside I found a mine prospector. He told me that he owned a one-half interest in this cabin and that he was expecting to find his pard here. I told him that I had met his partner back in the mountains and that he had sold half interest to me for thirteen dollars. He was a Frenchman and was very agreeable. He told me that he had come to Leadville for a load of supplies to take with him before the snow came as he could not come back here again before six months.
He said, "I am prospecting in a new territory near the Ute Indians reservation." He told me that the Indians were on the warpath again and had slain the PRICE and MEEKER families, who were placed there to show them how to farm by the U. S. Government. The uprising was caused by the young Indians, two hundred in number, and they were led by Sitting Bull, a chief. I asked him if he was afraid of them, but he said, "No, as I was coming in I met several In-
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dians. See here", he said and showed me a pocket on the side. It was cut clear down to his knees with a knife. He told me an Indian squaw did it in a playful manner. He wore buckskin pants.
He then showed me many samples of silver ore he had picked up in different places. The pieces were of pure silver. Some pieces were several inches square and some looked as if fire had melted them on the ground. He was very kind and told me to take what I liked of them for he could get more. I did not accept his offer. Many times after that I wished that I had done so. He said that he would leave in two or three days and why couldn't I come with him and be his partner. We would surely make a strike in that new territory. I felt like it was a good chance for me. I was in good condition and strong enough to go anywhere. Once I crossed over the mountains, there would be no mail nor could I send out mail for six months; that prevented me from accepting his offer. We bid each other goodbye. I do not know what became of him. He had prospected for twenty years.
Brother Tom and myself found work at a shaft high up on the mountain-a windlass shaft. This work was of solid formation. We were using high explosives when charges were exploded. One of us would go down soon to load the bucket. The fumes would be very strong, causing headaches and burning eyes. We worked at this mine several months. There were two brothers who owned this mine and lived in a tent on top of the shaft. Their names were CLARK. They were hard men to work for. We heard that they could not hold their men that they employed. Tom
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and myself worked from six p. m. to six a. m. Long hours! They watched their workers day and night.
Early one morning Tom went down the shaft to load up after a heavy blast. He loaded up several buckets, then shouted up to me to hoist him up. When he stepped out of the bucket he told me that the smoke was too strong for him and that his head was almost bursting. Well, I said, "Let me go down and try it." My eyes were burning me badly, too. I went down and loaded up several buckets. I wanted to clean up the shaft before six o'clock when the day shift would come on. Tom shouted down to me to come up. I was getting to feel badly from the hot smoke and I expected to do that. Tom's head was giving him trouble when he pulled on the windlass. He hoisted me up and said, "You are risking yourself staying down there so long." Just then one of the CLARK brothers came out of the tent with a heavy revolver in his hand. He was angry and said to Tom with an oath, "Why did you call him up? Tom told that we were both nearly down from the smoke. With that they both argued with many words. Tom started to go to him. CLARK raised his gun and pointed it at Tom. Then I rushed between them and pulled Tom away. We both left. That same day we went to Leadville to get our pay From another one of the mine owners. I told him about the trouble we had at the mine. He did not want to pay us off and tried to induce us to go back to work. Under no conditions would we return to work. Tom said that CLARK went too far by drawing a gun on him. There would be no further trouble if we went back to work. Anyway he reluctantly paid us off.
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Tom and myself found work at another shaft and worked on up to the spring of 1880. Then we decided that we ought to take a trip to Pennsylvania. So we went down to Leadville and bought new outfits of clothes. One day a man by the name of HILL came and commenced to build a cabin near ours. He was a newcomer from the state of Connecticut. He was past middle age, spoke with a real Yankee drawl and was easy to get along with, a good axe man building a neat cabin with logs. I had given him the privilege to bake his bread in my stove.
One day he came in with a pan of dough to bake. Tom and myself were in the cabin. Tom was sitting on the bed. I was sitting on a block of wood. There were no chairs to sit on. When our neighbor, HILL, started to place wood in the stove Tom told him not to come here and bother us with his baking. When HILL heard him speak that way he picked up his pan of bread and started to leave. He was a quiet man and did not answer back. I told him to go on with his baking. He said, "I don't want you to get into trouble over me." I told him to go on and bake, that this was my cabin and stove. He finished his baking and then said, "I will not trouble you again." I was getting angry and I told to come and use my stove until he got his cabin built.
Tom's worst fault was that he would talk in a harsh tone. After HILL left I said to Tom, "Why did you talk so rough to him?" Then he said to me in an angry tone, "I don't want him in the cabin." We then argued over his coming again. "You heard me telling HILL to come." We were both getting warmed
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up over the question. Tom made a move from where he was sitting toward me. I got up quickly and met him half way in the cabin. I said to him, "Don't you make a pass at me. If you do I will make it hot for you." We glared at each other for a while and then he went and sat down again.
Brother Tom often got into trouble with other men over his way of speaking He was nearly six feet tall, had broad shoulders and was well proportioned. He weighed 210 pounds. He had many rough and tumble fights in Pennsylvania coal fields. In a few days we forgot all about our disagreement and things went along smoothly until one day Tom received a letter from Pennsylvania. After reading it I could see he was disturbed. I asked him what the trouble was. He then told me that he had been going with a young woman by the name of Carrie GOUGE, an English girl, and was engaged to marry her. Now he was not going back. He gave me his reasons why. The letter tells me that Carrie went to a Sunday School picnic and walked back that evening with Morde PARCELL, a man Tom had a dislike for. I reasoned with him that he should not look at it in that way, but Tom was stubborn. At last he agreed to go back and investigate. I also told him that the first thing he should do was to talk to Carrie before he broke off the engagement. Tom was far from being pleased over the offer.
At last the day came for us to leave. We had been down to Leadville and bought a new suit of clothes each and a complete outfit. As we were leaving the gulch, looking ahead, I noticed a flat pocketbook lying
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in the path; I picked it up and found thirteen dollars in it. There were no railroads to Leadville at that time. We took the stage for Denver and said goodbye to Leadville. The horses traveled in relays as fast as they could make it. They were changed after so many miles. In a few minutes we were off again, but it was hard on the horses. Many could be seen dead lying on the road side. The road was very rough in many places and dangerous too. After we got out of the mountains it was pleasant traveling through the parks and then on to Denver. A few years ago, I walked through them by moonlight and could see coyotes sneaking along the way. As soon as we arrived at Denver, we bought our tickets for home by way of Niagara Falls as we wanted to see this sight. We arrived there on a bitter cold day. It was snowing and freezing. We could not linger there long. We had the pleasure of seeing those wonderful falls of water.
We arrived at Mahanoy City after ten days riding and found my wife and children well, but what a change had taken place from rocky surroundings to one of comfort and cleanliness. you would have to go there and see those things to be able to fully enjoy the change. When we arrived the mines were working and after a few days rest we went to work at a mine close by my home. Brother Tom began to display himself by dressing up in a top hat, bright colors, bright neckties and finishing up with a gent's cane. He went strolling along the streets sporting his earnings and visiting beer saloons. Tom was a talker. He could argue on most
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any subject. His method of speaking made his enemies. One Saturday night, in a saloon, he had to leave in a hurry. Several half drunken men rushed toward him. He fought with them, but was all the time getting nearer the door. On reaching the steps leading up to the street he evaded them, leaving his top hat and cane behind. They had a jolly time kicking his hat around in the saloon and they broke his cane to pieces. Tom mentioned this affair to me. He had two other fights. I helped him to straighten out by going on his bond.
The young lady, Miss Carrie GOUGE, and Tom
got married in a private wedding ceremony. Shortly after that they
both went back to Leadville, Colorado. In less than one year his
wife came back to Mahanoy City and made her home with her relatives.
She gave birth to a son and named him Arthur. For nearly two years
Tom sent money to her; then suddenly stopped, giving no reason why.....
I was not well acquainted with Carrie, as I had only seen her a few times.
She held her head erect and had a proud walk. She was nice looking
and of English descent. I knew some of her relatives named SYLVESTORS.
One evening Carrie came to my home and talked with my wife and myself.
She wanted to know why Tom had not written nor sent her any means to live
on. She seemed to think that I knew where he was.
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I told her that he had not written me since he left and that I did not like the way he was doing. Her relatives who were coal miners, came to see me one month after. They were angry at the way Tom was treating Carrie. I told them that I felt that way also. They even said that they would go out west and hunt him up and later on they did go out to Denver.
I do not know how Carrie explained to Tom about her walking from the picnic with Mordi. PARSOLI told my wife he would not forgive nor forget. I was sure that this was the cause of their separation. Carrie grieved over the separation all her life. When her son, Arthur, grew up to manhood they moved to Philadelphia where she placed him in school to learn to be a Methodist preacher. In all this time, she had not told Arthur anything about his father although he inquired of her to tell him, but she always avoided his question and failed to tell him anything about him. Her son became pastor of the Covenant Methodist Episcopal Church of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
On one of my visits to see him, I found that he was now married and had a son about two years old. I had been asked not to speak about his father because his mother kept it from him. I felt that Arthur would do something desperate should he know of her past life. Arthur, like his father, was a good speaker. In the year, 1917, I then lived in Jellico, Tennessee. My wife and two daughters visited in Pennsylvania. I felt that Arthur should know about his father. I had
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a feeling that he would use his reason about the separation. He was now old enough to think properly and could freely talk with his mother. I phoned Arthur that I would like to meet him and that we were returning to Tennessee. He came at once. I told him I would like to talk with him privately. We both went into a private room.
Then I told him all that I knew about his father; that he had been a representative for the Knights of Labor for eighteen years in Colorado. He then married a judge's daughter in Portland, Oregon, but that she died in two years and left a son who is now living in Los Angeles. Your father took sick and was nursed by a woman that he afterwards married. They lived together a short while and then separated. He then had a law suit over some property. 'Your father is now living with his son, your half brother, in Los Angeles, California'. He listened intently, but put no questions to me. I could see he was thinking seriously about the information given him about his parents. His mother had married again. I do not know how they talked it over between themselves. Carrie told my wife that she felt much better now as her son, Arthur, did not lose control over himself as she had expected and that she had worried over it.
When I arrived back in Tennessee, I received a letter from Arthur stating that he was going to California to see his father and brother whom he had never seen. He wanted me to go with him, but at that time I could not go. Arthur made the trip and wrote me that everything passed off pleasantly be-
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tween them. His father and his second wife came to Knoxville on a visit to see me, but did not go East to see Arthur. So Carrie and Tom never saw each other since they separated in Leadville, now more than 30 years ago, nor did Arthur see his father alive again.
Some few years after his visit to see his father, his father had a stroke of paralysis and died suddenly. Arthur went to his burial. His death broke connection between us. I have not heard from Arthur for several years. It is strange how trivial actions will ruin what should be happy lives. This is one of many broken homes after marriage. Men like Tom were very jealous when a controversy would come up between young couples. Husbands, when they think of things done in the past, allow their jealousies to be aroused and then when it is almost too late, the marriage vows are forgotten. When Arthur was grown, his mother married again. I do not know whether she applied for a divorce or not. Neither do I know if Tom applied for one or not. It must have been some relief to Arthur's mother to know of the meeting of son and father and that everything passed off without the many things that might have happened.
For many years I had no word from Tom. He had been employed by the U. S. Government prospecting for minerals in the western states and Mexico with a crew of six men. Prospectors had a difficult time in Mexico. Many of them were slain. The papers stated that their names were unknown. I had come to the conclusion that brother Tom might have been one of them. After many years of silence in the years from 1884 to 1924 I was then living in Kentucky, and was
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superintendent of three mines; one day I was looking over an engineering mining journal and I noticed an advertisement from an expert mining engineer reading, "Mines examined, complete reports made," and signed T. F. JAMES, Los Angeles, California. I sent a letter to that address. The reply came back to me that it was Tom. He said he had added a middle letter to his name, the letter F, a few years back. F meant Francis. We corresponded for some years. He came to Knoxville to see me, then on his way to New York to get a party to buy a silver mine in Arizona, near Chloride.
My son-in-law, J. W. WILLIAMS, and his brother, had me to go with
them to see the prospect. We looked the mine, or shaft, over and
found it to contain silver, copper and lead, but it was a long haul to
the smelter and just at that time the laws were about to be passed that
would lower the value of silver. So the silver mine was not taken
up. Mr. J. W. WILLIAMS hired Tom to look for a gold mine. After
several months of prospecting, Tom found a Tourquis Prospect equipment
which was bought and operated for a short while and then abandoned.
Mr. WILLIAMS had spent nearly seventy thousand dollars on the operations.
Tourquis would have to be shipped a long distance for polishing.
This was too expensive.
In the year 1883, many anthracite coal miners were leaving Mahanoy
City for Washington territory. I also thought of making a change
again. Work was slowing down again. Wages then were $10.20
per week for skilled miners, ten hours a day. David LEWIS and his
wife were soon to leave for Jellico, Tennessee,
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where new coal mines were opened up by the East Tennessee Coal Company. E. J. DAVIS was General Manager, and Arthur JENKINS, Secretary and Treasurer. JENKINS and his mother were from Mahanoy City, but now living in Knoxville. Also her sister, Mrs. E. J. DAVIS, lived there.
E. J. DAVIS came from Wales to Knoxville. His occupation was Slater. He met Miss Elizabeth JEFFRIES, then a school teacher. Arthur JENKINS' mother was her sister. There were four sisters of the JEFFRIES family and three sons: David, John and Shadrick, the youngest. He was an artist. He and his sister Mary died in Mahanoy City at an early age. Mary, the youngest sister, married Walter LEWIS, the son of David LEWIS. The reason why Walter came to Knoxville was that he owed his sister-in-law, Mrs. JENKINS, $3,000.00. Mr. LEWIS could pay her from his salary as Secretary-Treasurer of the East Tennessee Coal Company. This was paid to her.
Mr. David LEWIS, wife and son, Walter, and myself arrived in Jellico in the month of September, in the year 1883, and met Harry WYNN who had come on ahead of us. He also was from Mahanoy City, Pennsylvania. He was in charge of the developing of the East Tennessee Coal Mine. The mine was situated one mile north of Jellico in Kentucky, Jellico being the border town. It was a very tough place; drinking and shooting each other were very common. Two railroad terminals were there. The L. and N. and the Southern Railways both were completed about the same time. The mine had shipped some coal before we got there, but in a crude way. Few houses had been built.
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We found a place to stay at Mr. PHILLIPS' home. Mr. PHILLIPS was a mine foreman. A home had been built for the LEWIS family and as soon as they placed furniture in it they lived there. They lived there for fourteen years and both of them had died in that time. Mr. LEWIS was first to pass away. Both of them were buried in Mahanoy City, where two sons, Tom and David, were buried. David was crushed in the coal mines. Tom died from a serious cold. Their graves have markers all in one lot.
Harry WYNN and myself boarded at PHILLIPS. Later on Thomas LEYSHON, a relative to the DAVISES, and JENKINS, who were owners of the East Tennessee Coal Company's mine and later on the WYNN family and LEYSHONS moved from Mahanoy City to Jellico. The name of the mining camp was called after a town in Wales, named Dowlais. Several Welsh families from Wales and Ohio who followed mining, located here with their families.
We were increased in numbers so that we could hold services in Welsh, with Welsh singing. The country people were well pleased to hear the Welsh singing of gospel hymns. Welsh children were often invited to sing at other churches around on Sundays. There were always crowded houses to hear them sing. There were many good voices and all loved to sing. And also there were many musicians among the men and women with good voices. It was a real singing camp, making good cheer to all who loved music. High class music like "Heaven Are Telling" and "Hallelujahs", choruses, and many other songs, quartets and solos would
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be sung in competition with Knoxville Welsh singers who were very good in music.
There were many Welsh singers in Knoxville in the years 1880 to 1900. When I left Pennsylvania, I came with the intention of following my usual occupation of coal mining in case I should find conditions agreeable. If not, I would move on to the territory of Washington State, where new coal mines were being developed. Many miners from Mahanoy City had gone there. Although mining in Tennessee was quite different from that of Pennsylvania mining. Anthracite coal mining is done by blasting, but in Tennessee by pick mining. Mining here was less hazardous.
After working four months, Manager DAVIS asked me to accept a position as mine foreman in the place of Evan PHILLIPS, who was then foreman. After considering the proposition, I told him that the salary was not satisfactory to me, $70.00 per month. I could earn $40.00 or more per month as a miner. He came back with the advantages of house rent and coal free and household goods 10% above cost. He was anxious that I accept the position. I accepted the place with the explanation that I was not sure that my wife would come here.
After four months, Welsh families moved into the mining camp from Wales and other states. Camp conditions were improving, but the surroundings were still rough. The equipment of the mines was not completed for lack of funds. Manager DAVIS asked me to take some stock in Tennessee Coal Companies. Coal
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prices were very low. There were hopes that it would get better. After some hesitation, I took 15 shares at one hundred dollars per share. I sent word to my wife to send me fifteen hundred dollars. This amount was placed to the credit of the East Tennessee Coal Company, and now since I had stock in the company, it kept me from thinking of going elsewhere.
Knowing that my wife had not made up her mind to move here, I wrote her that now I would have to stay here and that if she could not feel like moving from Mahanoy City, I would provide for her wants and would make a trip to see her as often as I could get off. In our correspondence my wife wrote me that she had decided to come to Tennessee. In the fall of 1884, she arrived in Jellico with the children, Maggie, Louis, and Mary. The families of LEWIS, WYNN, and LEYSHON, lived on each side of us, all from Mahanoy City, acquaintances of my wife, making it easier for all of us in our new surroundings. A schoolhouse was built close by, then church and Sunday School services were held regularly in both languages, English and Welsh, all striking for better conditions.
There was one Welshman named Jonathan JENKINS, a one-legged man, who came to Dowlais with another miner named PIETON. Both of them came from Maryland. They worked at Frostburg Coal Mines. PIETON drank a good deal. In one of his drinking sprees, he laid down on the railroad track and was killed. JENKINS was a religious man. When the schoolhouse was built, you would always find him taking a leading part, no matter how bad the weather would be. He would ring the bell for Sunday services and
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also for the weekly services. His faithfulness was often spoken of in the camp. He mined coal for a few years and then he was offered a position as mine foreman at the Mountain Ash mine, six miles out from Dowlais. He married there and had one child, a daughter. She is now married and living in Knoxville. Later on JENKINS moved to Jellico and died there from a severe cold. He was buried at Williamsburg, Kentucky. He was reliable and perfectly honest. Many times have we talked together in and around the mines. He loved to sing Welsh hymns, songs he learned in his native land, Wales. He called on me often to come to the services and play the organ for him.
Although religious influences were active in the camp, some miners would drink and get rough. Whiskey was plentiful at Jellico and the towns nearby. Drinking and shootings occurred nearly every day. Most every Saturday and Sunday, men shot each other to death. It was not safe to go there on any business, especially in the evenings, for shootings were liable to commence at any time.
One Saturday evening, I went over to Jellico for a hair cut and shave. The barber shop was nearly on the state line, dividing the town. A young barber newly located there from Cincinnati was doing my work. I was partly shaved when a fight commenced just outside the door on the pavement. The door was open and the barber could see the fight. His hand trembled so that he could not hold the razor. Steady fighting was going on in less than twenty feet from us. I could not see them as I reclined in the chair, but I tried to encourage him to finish shaving me.
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Coordinator - Betty Baker
Asst. State Coordinators:
-- Rebecca Maloney
-- Betty Baker
-- M.D. Monk
Please to not ask for specfic research on your family. I am unable to do your personal research.
