"Third Stool from the Rear": Part V

Marriage Is a Partnership

There are two valid reasons for man drinking to excess. Having to share this world with females is the first and main reason. I have forgotten the second one but I believe it is closely related to the first.

Many years ago, after Inez perfected several methods to control my errant behavior, I was driving a vent raise near a stope where a young fellow worked steadily and well. We used the same timber station where we sometimes ate lunch together. Henry liked to party. He had a beer or two each evening after shift leading up to serious drinking on Saturday night when he would have a full day, Sunday, to recover.

He was newly married and his wife wasn't at all pleased with his routine. One Saturday night she decided to join him and match him drink for drink. She was a pretty girl, intelligent, a good housewife and her intentions were noble but her basic metabolism was not designed for a miner's night on the town. Between midnight and one o'clock Henry had to lead her to their car and from the car to their bedroom without her knowledge or any help from her lower limbs.

Late Sunday morning she recovered enough to realize she was home and that she had thrown up several times from her pillow to the bedding and a couple of retchings reaching the floor. She had a horrible headache when Henry tiptoed in to check on her. "Oh honey, I think I'm going to die," she moaned.

"Well, I hope you will remember this," he comforted her, "because all this time you thought I was having fun."

Printed page 42. The title is printed with an opening quotation mark but no closing one, kept as printed.

"Two Tramps and a Dog from Silverton"

Rich Carleno and Dean Shillings were helping me replace track and prepare the Midwest Mine for underground core drilling.

We were eating lunch in the compressor building which had windows on both north and south sides with benches or work tables under the windows. Rich had a small black dog that put in every shift in a quiet and dignified manner, either sleeping under a bench or sitting with head cocked waiting for his master to come from the tunnel.

Rich sat partially facing me with a sandwich in his left hand. We had been talking about other mines when he, off handedly, ordered the dog to attention. "Ralph, I think there's a car coming, will you go to the window by the compressor and check for me?" Ralph skirted the compressor, leaped to the water tank car and from it to a shelf along the windows. He looked left and right then returned in the same route to sit and stare silently at Rich. "Didn't see anything, huh? It must be coming down the road then, will you take a look out the windows above us?" Ralph vaulted from the bench to a similar shelf on the north side and went from window to window. Satisfied in his own mind he had performed his duty he jumped down and again faced Rich to transfer the message that there was no car in sight. With that mutual understanding Rich handed him the remainder of the sandwich.

During this period we had a World War II vintage 6x6 truck with boom and winch to move heavy equipment. The truck was sadly in need of repairs but I had worked with it on prior jobs for Minerals Engineering Company and felt safe with it. When it was no longer needed it was to be returned to Commodore 5 tunnel.

Rich had gone first with a pickup, I was to follow in the 6x6 and Dean would then follow me in a Power Wagon carrying a rack of batteries. Dean wanted to drive the 6x6. He had wanted to drive it since the first day. I thought, "Well, hell, this is his last chance...his dad was a good friend of mine and he lost his life in a mine accident...Lee would want me to trust him...why not let him try his luck." I cautioned him about the brakes and told him, explicitly, to not shift up. "Keep it in low range and 2nd gear in the main gear box...it won't jump out of that gear...got that...let's go."

We were creeping along well and I was proud of Dean. We made the gentle grade and were approaching a very steep grade when Dean decided to check out the gears. He shifted to 3rd, then to 4th, sure that he could reverse the procedure before nosing down the steep grade. He couldn't do it. By the whine of the gears I knew Dean Shillings was in for a hair raising ride. The last I saw of the truck the end of the boom was whipping like the tip of a fly rod in a high wind. With my heavy load there was no way I could safely keep up.

When I came to the Amethyst Mine turnoff I saw the last side skid and swirling cloud of dust just as he came to a bone jarring stop against a vertical bank east of an old mule barn. I was relieved as hell and tried to control my temper as he eased from the cab blinking dust from his eyes. "Dean," I said, "you just added some gray hairs to my head."

"Jeezuscrist Jackson, what about me, I was in that sonuvabitch, you know."

Printed page 43. "Lee" was Dean Shillings's late father, killed earlier in a mine accident not otherwise described in this book.

Third Stool from the Rear

"Merle got his last clean shirt couple o' weeks ago. Gladys got a letter from his daughter sayin' his heart finally gave out and they planted him on the 20th in California.

"Wonder he lasted this long...he was so rocked up the last time I saw him he couldn't finish a sentence without stoppin' to catch his breath...guess he had less than 20% of his lung capacity.

"Remember when he was runnin' that short stope on 6 level off the West Drift Sump? Think he was up around 60 feet and making pretty fair money...Howard thought he pulled the tape a time or two on him but if he did he deserved it...he ran 'em a clean stope and knew how to space his holes.

"You hear about the time he was drilling away with both hands on the handle when the bit fitchered an' he got pinned against the wall? Yeah, pinned both hands and he couldn't piss a drop...he was hangin' there with the throttle wide open an' the chuck hissin' when he saw a light by the manway so he started yellin' for help. It was Howard comin' up to sample...when he got near enough Merle yelled to him to shut the throttle off...took a lot to get Howard excited...he looked him over real good and asked him if he was really hung so tight he couldn't pull his hands out...Merle is squawking like a Guinea hen an' tells him he's hurtin' bad and to please shut the throttle off.

"Old Howard takes out his pocket knife and begins sawing away on the back side of Merle's suspenders...Merle is cussin' up a blue streak an' screaming for help...asks Howard what the hell he's doing...Howard tells him, well Merle, you screwed the company a few times so when I get your pants down I'm going to pay you back.

"It didn't hurt him much...got a couple of black fingernails and lost some skin but he chased Howard out of the stope with a chuck wrench and told Erick he wouldn't work for him again.

"He was a skinny little bugger but he could handle a buzzy...talked all the time, even when he was drillin'...Shorty thought he had a screw loose but Curly said he had to talk when he was workin' 'cause he could never get a word in edgewise at home."

Printed page 44.

Third Stool from the Rear

"You hear when they're gonna bury Woody? Al told Gertie that Paul went to pick up his body...hard to believe anything could kill that old bugger but they told me he got pneumonia putting up ice at Kremmling."

"How old? Keerist, I'm not sure...musta been 51 or 52...that's a lot of years to put in trampin'...couldn't get a job mining anymore because of his lungs...that's why he was on the ice crew.

"Remember when he and Beanie Davis used to tear up the turf? If they couldn't find anyone to fight they fought each other...one time when Woody busted Beanie's nose and put knots all over him he said if he had a gun he'd blow him to hell...Woody picks him up and says, 'I've got a gun at home, let's go get it.' Lucky for Woody there was a saloon between them and his house or it's likely Beanie would have plugged him.

"Musta been 8 or 10 years ago we were socializin' in the Rainbow an' Woody latched onto a long legged redhead from the valley...we ended up at Lesters an' Woody an' his redhead took the only double bed...I wanted to get some sleep but all through the night she was tellin' him to keep his hands to himself or to behave himself...long about 4 o'clock she either gave up or he behaved himself 'cause it got quiet enough so the rest of us could get some sleep.

"I reckon we're all goin' to the same place so maybe the big bugger will put in a good word for us...I'd hate to start all over again as a mucker."

Printed page 45.

"Just One More Round, Dear Lord"

While working in Nevada in 1980 I met two gentlemen, one 68 years of age and one 71 years of age, who were mining clots of high grade gold ore left by early day miners in an incline to veins of larger dimensions.

At the time we visited they had amassed approximately three tons of ore assaying a little over seven ounces gold per ton, equivalent to $12,000 or thereabouts at the quotations of that date.

They were using primitive tools and having the time of their lives with no set schedule for any of their activities. The work was hard but there was immense satisfaction in knowing they were once again producers - two rocked up old miners, with a dream, planting explosives that would separate softer vein material from it's andesite host then shoveling the broken gangue into a skip to be pulled to surface where they laboriously separated high grade from lower grade quartz.

The younger of the two died of cancer less than a year after our meeting and I never learned if they received any monetary reward for their efforts. It doesn't matter. They were certainly an inspiration to me and they exemplified the spirit of mining.

Printed page 45. "It's andesite host" is printed as shown.

Third Stool from the Rear

"What're yuh drinkin' Don? Jeezuscrist, that's good whiskey...rich uncle die an' leave yuh a bundle? Pour him another, Al, maybe he'll pass out before it's my turn again...Alyce still putting up with your crap or did she come to her senses and pull out?

"Just read where Howard checked out on us...you read his obituary in last week's paper? Remember when you and Walt were runnin' a raise by his and Cozzie's stope and the tommyknockers gave them forty feet for free? Cozzie went up the manway and headed back to oil up...wasn't payin' a helluva lot of attention and ran into a solid wall with his hoses runnin' right under it...they had mud slips on both walls an' forty feet dropped right where he was drilling...Howard wanted to take a jackhammer and work through it but Crawford decided it was too hairy and they shut 'er down...you and Walt hit any of those mud slips in your raise? Cozzie said he'd let the tommyknockers have it...heard he went to Kansas an' started raisin' wheat...he's probably turned up his toes by now.

"Got a letter from Jaxon yesterday...he's in northern Nevada...somewhere near Elko...someone learnt him how to tell soft rock from hard rock and he thinks he's a geologist...nah, he just carries samples for the real geologists but I think they keep him around mainly for laughs...hell, he can't even blow his nose without help...wants to get Lester out there...says there's a whorehouse just thirty minutes from where they're workin'...now wouldn't that be a show? The gals would have to charge by the hour and keep an oxygen tank handy."

Printed page 46.

Third Stool from the Rear

"You ever go back up the hill to look 'er over, Pete? I went back a couple of years ago...portal's caved but it's still suckin' air from the lower levels...I could almost see Glen shuffling time cards and checkin' to see if we were all out of the hole...he was a good shifter, helped me get my round drilled a few times when time was short...he didn't mind a little mud on his face and grease on his hands.

"I remember when I was runnin' a drift in the Brown cross-cut...I could see lights comin' and thought it was Glen with one of the mule skinners to check an' see if I needed anything...I was just at the end of one of the lifters and flipped 'er on exhaust just as they got to me and began backin' 'er up...that first slug of mud and drillin's hit one of them right in the face...I like tuh crapped my britches when I saw it was old Ben...yeah...he was on one of his inspections with Erick...thought for sure I'd be tramped but he took it good natured.

"You can sure smell a change at the portal...always smelled a little of powder smoke but it just smells of rotting timbers, putrid water and that gawdawful rotten egg smell from the Equinox that always kept us half sick on 7 level...Skinner and I tried to finish a stope there but you can't do much work when you can't find your ass with both hands...migawd that was a gassy hole...passed clear out once and fell down the manway to where Skinner was tramming...he stuck an air hose to my nose and damned near blew my brains out making me come around...found out one thing, when the flame on your lamp begins flarin' off the jet and turns red you'd better turn tail.

"I didn't like that smell, Pete. I'll never go back again...it smelled so damned final...like death smells, I guess...felt like if I walked through it I'd likely see the old devil with a shovel for me and pointing to a blackboard by a mountain of coal where all the rotten things I ever did would be written up.

"Well, tap 'er light, Pard, I'll try to see you tomorrow."

Printed page 47. "Skinner" is likely the same Gavin Skinner named in several stories in Part II, though the book does not say so directly here.

The Tommyknocker Poem

You wanta hear about tommyknockers? I'll tell yuh lad
there's some that's good and there's some that's bad

I was beddin' my plats on the graveyard shift
in the Happy Thought Mine near ten level drift

when I heard this voice, sounded right by my side
warns me "get to the skip or you'll lose your hide"

so I looked all around, couldn't see a darned soul
but the message was clear to get out of the hole

the shaft was in sight when she caved with a roar
the concussion lifted me clean off the floor

blew out my candle and ripped off my shirt
finally dropped me with my face in the dirt

then that same urgent voice that I heard down the drift
says "you're okay, Chappie, go tell the next shift

that a good tommyknocker saved your butt today
if they come underground there'll be hell to pay

for the bad tommyknockers took a lease on the lode
and they'll cave it from here to the Bachelor road

they work for the devil and their souls have been sold
for a seam of pyrites that the fools thought was gold"

Printed page 48. This poem is given no title in the book; the heading here is descriptive, supplied for this site.

Floyd Dooley

A hard rock miner with a smile on his face
breathing fresh air in a change of pace
to marvel at nature, high on a hill
far from the sound of an Ingersol drill
we once set a record in a contract stope
young, strong and willing, our lives full of hope
but carnotite mines held a stronger lust
and peppered his lungs with uranium dust
so we lost a good miner, my partner and friend
with all a beginning that leads to an end

Printed page 49.

"Tryin' to Get Around It"

I've mined for silver and I've panned for gold
makes a man go crazy or so I'm told
I left my tracks where clear streams head
and spent cold, dark nights on a pine bough bed
"tryin' to get around it"

Stopped a fist or two in a barroom brawl
got kicked where it hurt when they made me fall
scattered my blood from here to Butte
blasting ore from veins to a trammer's chute
"tryin' to get around it"

I've slogged in mud and I've choked on dust
been rained on so much I thought I'd rust
slept in a whorehouse and ate from a can
shared a jug of tokay with a travelin' man
"tryin' to get around it"

It's been a rough, steep climb and I often fell
to a lower level that smelled like hell
but here's the last round, there's "fire in the hole"
so near the end of a lifelong goal
"I can almost see around it"

Well, it looks like I made it "hey boys, I'm here"
there's Hank and Woody sharing a beer
and Ray's on the floor with a grin on his face
pour me drink, I'll take his place

Old Allan's crooning as Chet runs the keys
and Heinie's playing with the wrinkled knees
of the blue eyed blonde from the third street crib
as Shorty seasons his famed prime rib

Ernie and Tank just came through the door
tripped over Herb, fast asleep on the floor
and flattened poor Red on his way to the john
"don't pick him up, he's already gone

But I don't see Les, he should be here
ah, there he is, now I'm seein' clear
dancing a jig with knockkneed La Verne
and Pete's following, waiting his turn

"A double for Paul, say he's looking great
and draw one for Ed before it's too late
Jack's all snockered, listen to him snore
move in, Billy, there's room for one more"

Bell the old hoistman, tell him to "cut the rope"
we'll take this skip to the last great stope
Al's got the powder, Noel's checking our steel
"light up your lamps, boys, we can't go by feel"

"We're 'rangu-tangs all" big Woody say
muckers and drillers and souls on our way
to another black hole where they need a crew
that's been around the thundermug a time or two

Printed page 50. This poem is given no title in the book; the heading here is its own recurring refrain line, supplied as a descriptive title for this site. It names many people who appear nowhere else in the book, in an imagined reunion of the dead; none are indexed by name.

The Top Team Miners

Miners, as a rule, are a cantankerous lot and can rarely get along with one another from one pay period to the next. There are exceptions, however, and listed below are names of those men the author salutes as the top team miners of his era in the silver camp of Creede, Colorado.

Alvie Wintz and Paul Davis

Harry McClure and Gene McClure

Lyle Alspaugh and Fred Lane

"Red" Johnson and "Shorty" Dunkel

Geo. "Bud" Miles and Ivan Van Akin

Charles Slaght and Byron Fairchild

Howard Midkiff and Walt Randolph

"Tank" Tankersley and Jack Nelson

Gene "Pat" Patten and Leo "Hoot" Moore

Printed page 51. This list confirms the full name of "Pat Patten," mentioned in "Bill Graduates to Higher Mathematics" in Part III, as Gene "Pat" Patten.

Synopsis

If you made it this far your patience is appreciated if not rewarded. The stories you have just read are believed to be false. In most cases the facts have been changed to protect the guilty. Any similarities between characters in the stories and persons living or dead is purely coincidental unless you choose to associate yourself with someone you knew or met who occupied the third stool from the rear.

Hard rock miners were proud of their work, proud of their strength and proud of their country. They were the grunts who stormed the beaches of Normandy, Iwo Jima and Korea. They knew which rung of the ladder of success they fit best on and they settled there without envy for the persons above them but with compassion for the ones on the rungs below.

They were producers. They knew that a ton of ore rumbling down a draw hole from their working place, when refined, would provide enough lead to make four automobile batteries, enough zinc to galvanize several sheets of tin, enough silver to plate a tea service and enough copper to make 50 feet of #12 electrical wire.

They were coarse, they drank and they fought. They fought fair and they protected those who were less able to defend their rights. They were my friends, my partners and my family. There are few of us left and there will be fewer next year but we gave it one helluva go when our bodies were strong and we die with pride.

Printed page 52, the last of the book's own numbered pages.

Dedication

Because I Love You, That's Why!

This is the book's actual final page, printed on its last leaf rather than at the front as most dedications are; it is kept in that position here, as noted in the introduction on the main page for "Third Stool from the Rear." Inez Schriver Jackson was John's wife.