WHEN AMERICA WAS YOUNG
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by Richard Drake, guest writer
My wife Marcia's mother, Alice, was born in Goldfield, Colorado, part of the Cripple Creek Mining District which included the towns of Cripple Creek, Victor and Goldfield. The gold mines had made it into a thriving community; it had an electric street car that ran a loop through the three towns. The tracks ran down the middle of the streets. Daily train service was available to Colorado Springs and on to Denver. Goldfield had many services: a grocery store, drug store, clothing store, a meat man, a milk man and a doctor, Dr. Hayes.
Her Grandfather, Jacob James Hore, immigrated to the United States in the 1892 from Cornwall England. He was one of four sons who were all Cornish miners, following in the footsteps of their Father, who later became Captain of the Cornwall clay pits, famous for the fine clay used by the North Cornwall China Clay Company. Brothers, James, Joseph and Samuel came to the states and Harry went to New Zealand. James worked in the mines for six years to save his money to return to Cornwall in 1898 to marry his childhood sweetheart, Lilly Grace Pascoe. Brother, Sam, died in an avalanche that wiped out the boarding house in which he was living.
There were four children in the family John, Fred, Grace, and Alice, Marcia's mom. Uncle John became a regular visitor to our home on Lookout Mountain, Colorado. He had been raised as a proper gentleman in the English tradition, always dressed in a suit and tie with a fedora on his head. Our three children would not let him be the English gentleman in our home. They loved him and he became their grown up toy. Having no children of his own, he returned their love. One of their favorite tricks was to pull up his suspendered trousers high, on his waist, and call him "Mister High Pockets". It seemed that he spent more time on the floor with our three rug rats than he did in a chair.
Marcia's family always talked fondly of "up home" when remembering their childhood. In 1985, our family took a vacation to Colorado to visit the folks. While there, they expressed a desire to go "up home" for what they said would probably be their last visit considering their advancing years. So early one Saturday morning, we packed up and went to the mountains. It was a full day including going down in a mine to see what it was life was like as a miner. I did not go on the mine tour because Grace had lost most of her sight at that point in her life. Everyone thought it would be dangerous for her in the dimly lit tunnels so I volunteered to stay with her. We found the site of their old home site and they relived the stories of their childhood.
Uncle John and Aunt Grace were a wealth of information. Their minds were still very sharp. They told of their memories of growing up. One of the best was about the town curfew officer whose job was to corral kids after dark or during the school day. They called him "Peg Leg" because of his wooden leg. The kids could hear the "thunk - thunk" of his steps as he walked down the wooden sidewalks, giving them plenty of warning to hide under the sidewalk. They talked about the "kick the can" games, football in the street and wagon ride picnics.
The family had many stories about the union and management difficulties of the early 1900's and they were fascinating. At one point the troubles broke out into open riots. Father, John, had been elected Town and Water Marshall and any one in a position of authority became a marked man of the union members. Uncle John led us to a deep gully on the edge of the town and showed us where the family had hidden their father to protect him from the rioters. The governor of the state had to call out the National Guard to quell the trouble. We also visited the old town fire station and jail where their Father had worked.
Of course, the highlight of the visit was finding the remains of the old family house. The family knew exactly where to look. Only the concrete foundation was remaining. The house consisted of a living room, kitchen, and two bedrooms. There had been a wood stove in the kitchen for cooking and they had a pot belly stove in the living room for heat. They would buy or cut their own wood. Kerosene lamps were used in the bedrooms. Eventually they had electric lights which were bare bulbs hanging by the electric cord with a chain for turning on and off. At first the kitchen drainage was in the form of a bucket under the sink but eventually they had water piped into the kitchen and the water was drained into the cesspool.
Mother and Father slept in one bedroom while John and Fred had the other bedroom. Grace and Al slept in the living room on a folding bed. Clothes were washed in a scrub tub with a wash board. They had a boiler that was put on the stove to boil clothes. A long broom handle was used to turn the hot clothes. The house was insulated with newspapers.
John pointed out several small depressions at the back of the old family lot where the old outdoor toilet had sat at various times. John told us that when Father had dug the pits, he found gold nuggets in one. The laws of The Town of Goldfield were very strict and did not allow any type of mining within the town limits. So the gold finding could not be exploited. John suspected that the outhouse was relocated often and the holding pits were deeply dug since there was no law against keeping any gold found under an outdoor privy.
Uncle John pointed out the various names of the mines on the mountain side where Father John had worked. He remembered all of the names, Prospect #1 and #2, the Independence, and the Vindicator. He pointed out the foot paths carved into the mountain which he and his Father had used to reach their work places. Families would watch the miners coming home in the evenings. Uncle John took me aside and told me little stories that he did not want the women to hear. We walked to a high point called Bull Hill from which one could see the lights of Pueblo, Colorado at night. He could remember taking a mule drawn wagon to the foot of Pikes Peak and climbing to the summit.
At the top of the hill was a large grove of aspen trees. He said the young men brought their girl friends to this site to look at the lights and to do a little "sparking". I asked him to explain the term. He said holding hands and, maybe kissing. I asked him if he had ever done that and he pointed high up on a large tree and there were his and a young lady's initials carved inside of a large heart. He never said a word, only smiled. The smile told the story.
Another tale told with a "twinkle" in his eye was about the trick that he and his friends like to play on the town leaders in Cripple Creek. He pointed out a row of old concrete foundations said that these were from the "girlie" houses, brothels. The town leaders would visit the girls after their town meetings. One night John and his friends climbed up on the hillside above the houses and threw rocks onto the tin roofs after the men had been inside for a while. Of course, the leaders had policemen watch for the criminals after that; several weeks later they would stop the surveillance and the boys would return for another night of fun watching the town leaders scrambling.
Father James became ill during the 1918-1919 flu epidemic and never fully recovered. He died in 1920 from "miner's lung" disease. Shortly after, Uncle, John, who had followed his Father's profession, was involved in a minor cave in. His mother would not let him go back into the mines. For a short time he worked on the Victor Register at the same time as Lowell Thomas who became famous as a news correspondent. Finally Mother put him on a train to Denver to find a job and never go back into the mines. The family soon followed.
No visit to this part of Colorado was complete without a tour of the Cripple Creek District Museum. When signing the visitor register, John mentioned to one of the ladies who was working at the museum that he had been raised in Goldfield. She informed him that a man had told her the same thing just minutes before. John went looking and found one of his best friends from childhood. It was the friend who had joined him on the train from Goldfield to Denver. The friend had traveled on to San Diego where he had resided ever since. He had just brought his wife to see Colorado to show her where he had grown up. Uncle John never cried but I do believe I saw a few tears when he greeted his old friend. Arrangements were made for the old friends to spend some time together in Denver before they returned to the west coast.
There is no better way to spend a warm Saturday than to listen to the older members of family telling stories of their youth; especially when there is some "sparking' in the memories.
Harry, Samuel, James and Joseph
For MIL'S PLACE
10-28-13
Richard Drake, CHS '53
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