Hey, Mabe!

By Shirley Parkin Porath

In the summer of 1916, Mabe, and her family moved from central Utah to join Papa in Copperfield, a small settlement near the town of Bingham, and the Utah Copper Mine, The Hill, where he was head guard. His participation in the man hunt for the famous killer, Lopez, and his efforts to uphold the law earned respect for his bravery and honesty. Mama gained the love of her neighbors as she comforted women whose husbands were hurt or killed in the mines, offered protection to a neighbor whose husband beat her when he was drunk, nursed neighborhood children with serious diseases, and served in the war effort group during World War I.
Mabe helped her family save their home from a fire and watched a fight in the coffee house next door erupt into a murder.
Mabe, who had difficulties in school, dreamed of becoming a good student and making her mark in some positive way. She overcame those problems and succeeded as a leader in high school, but experiences confirmed her observation, Females are just as good as males, but they arent treated fairly. She embarked on a quest to change that and to show women could be as outstanding in sports and other endeavors as men.
As a switchboard operator, she handled hundreds of calls during a devastating avalanche in the area, and returned in a sleigh filled with bodies. She witnessed floods and mining disasters, and experienced Prohibition, the Great Depression, and two world wars.
As she helps us learn more about this fascinating place, we watch Mabe grow, with encouragement and support from her family and neighbors from many ethnic backgrounds, from unsure girlhood into an outstanding, confident woman who was far ahead of her time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514457528

Book preview

Hey,

Mabe!

SHIRLEY PARKIN PORATH

Copyright © 2016 by Shirley Parkin Porath.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2016901876

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5144-5750-4

                Softcover        978-1-5144-5751-1

                eBook             978-1-5144-5752-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This novel is a work of historical fiction. Although some names have been changed, these were real people who experienced the events described at the times and in the places mentioned. Most dialogue is the product of the author’s imagination.

Rev. date: 08/17/2016

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

734663

CONTENTS

Prelude

Chapter 1 New Life In Copperfield

Chapter 2 The Little Red House Of Experience

Chapter 3 School Day Miseries And World-Changing Events

Chapter 4 Fairview Awakening

Chapter 5 Return To The Little Red House Of Experience

Chapter 6 Seventh Grade Adventures At Bingham High!

Chapter 7 Summer Of Change

Chapter 8 Back To Bingham High!

Chapter 9 Piano Lessons, Summer Fun, And Papa Is A Hero

Chapter 10 Ninth Grade Adventures

Chapter 11 Accidents And Incidents

Chapter 12 Sophomore Stunts

Chapter 13 I Was No Florence Nightingale

Chapter 14 I’m A Junior!

Chapter 15 Roller Coaster Summer

Chapter 16 On To Graduation

Chapter 17 Real Life, Here I Come!

Chapter 18 California Capers

Chapter 19 Home Again

Chapter 20 Copper Switchboard Days

Chapter 21 Growing Time In Salt Lake

Chapter 22 A Banker’s Life For Me!

Chapter 23 Mabe At The Merc

Chapter 24 Things Are Looking Good!

Chapter 25 Escape To Bryce

Chapter 26 Coping Through Calamity!

Chapter 27 Two Dollars, Please!

Chapter 28 I Almost Died To Learn To Play Golf!

Chapter 29 The Thirties

Chapter 30 Fun, Friends, And Tragedy

Chapter 31 Change

Chapter 32 The New York World’s Fair

Chapter 33 Celebration And Sadness

Chapter 34 World War II

Chapter 35 The Perils Of Parenthood

Chapter 36 Farewell To Bingham

Chapter 37 Knute’s Growing Years

Chapter 38 The Letter

Chapter 39 Return To Sandy

Chapter 40 Highs And Lows

Chapter 41 Reflections

Chapter 42 Postlude

Bibliography

Acknowledgments

Mable Knudsen Boberg’s fifty-page manuscript, Copper Dust and her recollections are the heart of this book. Thanks to my husband, Pres, for his patience and support. Special appreciation goes to my writing group instructor, Connie Trump, and fellow writers, Elaine Brown and Mitch McKain, whose insightful suggestions and encouragement helped bring this book to fruition. I also appreciate Florin Nielsen, a gifted poet, whose instruction and guidance in his classes inspired me to write the poems included in this book. Without the expertise of Bob Holmes on computer matters, this project could not have been completed.

PRELUDE

61810.png

I ’M MABLE DORA Knudsen Boberg, the Mabe of Hey, Mabe! No one dared call me Dora, because I threatened mayhem, so please, don’t even think about that name again! My life was full of excitement and adventure in Bingham, a mining camp with a well-deserved, horrible reputation, near the largest, richest copper mine in the world, which we called The Hill. My family and I shared friendship, love, disappointments, and disasters with colorful characters and salt-of-the-earth friends and neighbors in a melting pot of people from nations around the globe.

I worried because, as you can see, my nose is quite large, but I’m blonde, natural - this picture doesn’t show how light it is, with a contagious smile, lots of pep and enthusiasm, and a cute figure, so I was popular anyway. I hoped in some positive ways to Make My Mark- MMM. Because I longed to enjoy the freedom boys and men had - wearing pants for one thing - I tried to convince everyone, Females Are Just As Good As Males! - FAJAGAM.

Papa’s on our front porch with our dog, Jack. Now you see why my nose is the size it is. Papa was selected Mt. Pleasant marshal and later elected Sanpete County sheriff. In 1913, during a strike, company officials hand-picked him to come to Bingham as head guard on The Hill. He worried us because he was so brave! Papa was honest as the day was long and acted gruff to hide a soft heart.

61777.png61790.png

Mama’s dressed in her War Effort uniform, which she wore during World War I. She gained the love of people in Copperfield because she was always ready to help anyone, any time, anywhere, any way. Besides that, she kept our home running like a top, made delicious meals, wonderful bread, rolls, cakes and pies, and was - I’m not prejudiced! - the best cook in The Camp.

Ann and Gert’s mother, Papa’s first wife, Ane Christine, died when Ann was about two years old, soon after Gert was born. Papa married Mama three years later, and when their grandmother died, they came to live with us. That happened long before I was born, so it was years before I found out they weren’t my whole sisters. I loved them wholly!

61754.png

My sister, Vida, was eight years older than my sister, Ruby, and ten years older than I, so we thought it exciting to watch her romance with Clint. Her nose was lots smaller than Ruby’s or mine. Why was she so lucky? She made all her own clothes and mine too. But there were problems with that!

61732.png61653.png

My oldest brother, Dewey, was tall and good-looking, with blue eyes that seemed like circles of sky at noon. Very kind, a little shy, but lots of fun, he was the first person to call me Mabe. During World War I, our family missed him while he trained at Fort Kearney, California, and worried about him till he arrived home safely from France. He worked his way up to one of the most-envied jobs on The Hill. My other two brothers did too. All three were over six feet tall, so Papa couldn’t help bragging, I have over eighteen feet of sons.

61667.png

All the girls flocked around George because he was blonde and extremely good-looking. We were some of the few Mormons in camp, and because of his constant entourage of admiring girls, the fellows gave George a nickname that had to do with one of our Church leaders.

61700.png

My youngest brother, Elmer, was tall, dark, handsome and, like George, a basketball star in high school. The strong, silent type, he reminded me of Rudolph Valentino. Soon after he and Gwen were married, she did a daring thing to convince Elmer, Females Should Get To Do the Same Exciting Things Men Do. Remember: FAJAGAM! I was with her when she did it. Boy, was he upset! It was a little scary, but fun.

Ruby, two years older than I, was so dark, and I so light, I was reminded of the fairy tale princesses, Snow White and Rose Red. Notice! She also has a large nose, but she was popular too.

Image10.jpg61612.png

The large, strangely shaped building at the crossroads, lower center, is the Bingham Merc, short for mercantile or general store. We could buy anything from a safety pin to a keg of blasting powder there. Scene of many important community events, the Merc corner was our version of New York’s Times Square. The road at right led to the area called Carr Fork, and continued to the settlement of Highland Boy. The road at left wound its way to Copperfield, where we lived, and smaller communities like Telegraph and Apex. All these areas combined into what we called The Camp.

61619.png

Two people, sorry, I can’t remember who they are, stand with Ruby, third from left. Vida, Mama, and I are at right. I have no idea why I was standing with one foot raised! The house was built into the side of a hill. Notice the man standing on that hill at top left. With boards standing against the porch, two huge boxes used to hold coal and wood at the sides of the front steps, and no lawn or flowers, I have to admit it was an ugly place. Because it was smack in the middle of town, surrounded by stores, several bars and coffee houses, a bank, a barber shop, apartments, a huge hotel, and a boarding house, which held over a hundred men, we had no privacy. This created problems when it was time to go to the privy! Noise and hustle and bustle surrounded us all day and much of the night.

61588.png

From The Little Red House of Experience, we didn’t have to walk very far to see into the bottom part of the mine. A loud, deep-throated whistle warned everyone before daily blasting took place. Our house and everything in it shook violently! We felt like we lived in the middle of earthquakes. Explosions reverberated like thunder!

CHAPTER ONE

New Life In Copperfield

I REMEMBER TRYING mightily to sit quietly as our train chugged its way west from Salt Lake City toward the Utah Copper Mine in Bingham Canyon, high in the Oquirrh Mountains. We’ll get to live with Papa again! We’ll be together again! Those thoughts chased through my mind to the rhythm of the clickety-clacking train wheels. We’d seen Papa very seldom during the last three years while he worked as head guard of the mine, which everyone called The Hill. He didn’t think it was wise to take us to live in that rough, tough, rip-roaring mining camp, so he left Mama alone to take care of us in our little central Utah town of Mt. Pleasant. Once every two or three months, Papa came home by train for a few days, and twice Mama and I visited him. But now, July 25, 1916, we were tired of being separated, so we planned to stay until school started, a trial to see if we wanted to live there permanently.

My legs itched to run, and my body rebelled at sitting so still, captive in the uncomfortable, scratchy seats during this seemingly endless ride. I didn’t realize I was wiggling until Mama sent me her, You’re-doingsomething-I-asked-you-not-to-do, warning look. Earlier Mama asked me to sit still like a little lady and not disturb my older sister, Ruby, who was motion sick, as usual, lying with her head on Mother’s lap and her feet on mine. Ruby had good reason to feel punk. The heat from the July sun shining through the smeary windows made me feel like a roasting wiener on a stick, and the air smelled of stale cigars and too-hot-passengers. I couldn’t pay too much attention to it or I might have started feeling punk too!

My wishes had turned into wiggles. I wish I could go exploring through the cars and make friends with some boys and girls on the train. But Mama said it wasn’t proper for a girl to wander around the train alone. Elmer’s alone! Why do BOYS get to do everything that’s fun? I wish I could go find Elmer. I wish Ruby felt better. Maybe then Mama would let the two of us go get a drink of water. Then we could sneak further and take a look around. To please Mama, I gathered my self-control and stopped wiggling.

Mama smiled her approval, gave Ruby a loving pat as she glanced down to make sure she was all right, then turned her tired blue eyes toward the window to gaze at the mountains, the quiet twisting of her wedding ring the only clue to her unease. I knew why Mama felt upset. When we packed to come to Bingham, I could tell it was hard for her to leave our large, comfortable home in Mt. Pleasant and pick just a few things to bring with us. I knew she wished Gert, Vida, and George were coming too, and she worried because who-knew-when-we-would-see-again my oldest sister, Ann, her husband, Harry, and their children, Dot and Bud, who lived in Fairview, six miles from Mt. Pleasant. Ann was going to have a baby in September, and Mama was sad not to be there to help.

Mama told me how much she’d miss the time she spent with Grandma and Grandpa Knudsen, who lived next door to us in Mt. Pleasant. I’d miss Grandma Knudsen too because she usually gave Ruby and me eggs to exchange for penny candy at the store. But I wouldn’t miss Grandpa Knudsen, because one day I got stung by a bee, and while I yelled and cried and jumped up and down, he laughed! I guess he thought it was funny, but I sure didn’t!

I’ll never forget my frustrated, uprooted sensation as I thought about this drastic change in our lives. Will we go back to live in Mt. Pleasant at summer’s end? Will our entire family ever be together again?

In spite of these questions, at the age of nine, almost ten, worry flitted out of my mind at the thought of being with Dewey, my oldest brother, again. In 1914, as soon he turned sixteen, two whole years ago - it seemed like ages longer - he hurried to Bingham to work on The Hill and live with Papa in the Big Ship Hotel. We were proud of him because he had already worked his way up from the track gang to the position of locomotive fireman.

I hoped my adventures would include time around those friendly Greek workers I had met while we visited Papa. They liked my blonde hair, so they patted me on the head and gave me nickels and dimes because they were lonely for their children back in the Old Country.

Finally, the train gave some exhausted hisses and gasped to a stop in front of the D & R G station in Frogtown, two miles down canyon from the city center of Bingham. Are there REALLY frogs here? Bright sunshine had long ago vanished behind high mountains as we alighted into a swirl of steam and dust. In the dusk and confusion, we couldn’t catch any glimpse of Papa’s tall, strong figure until he found us, hugged us all around, shouldered many of our valises and bags, and guided us to a decrepit, rented wagon. Ruby sat on the front seat, squeezed securely between Papa and Mama, but Elmer and I were in back, perched on suitcases between three trunks. At Papa’s flick of the whip, two pair of horses struggled to start the wagon.

The level area around the rail yard led to a narrow, rutted road, which soon became steeper and steeper as it wound its way up canyon. Dust flew, disturbed by the hooves of the horses as they strained against their harnesses to keep our heavy load moving. As we clip-clopped our way toward the center of the city of Bingham, we gazed at buildings crowded close to the road, and were amazed to see lights glowing from houses perched at seemingly impossible angles on the mountainsides. How do they stay up there?

When we reached what appeared to be the center of town, Elmer pointed, Look at all those men standing around those three saloons. See that man staggering along with two guys holding him up? That shows why our friends were amazed we might live in a wicked mining camp. Gee, back in Mt. Pleasant by this time of night, all the men were home, finished with their farm chores, and everyone was getting ready to go to bed.

We kids craned our necks to watch the excitement as long as we could.

When our wagon passed the last structure in Bingham, I felt pretty important announcing, almost like the railroad conductor, Now we’re headed toward Copperfield, two miles up the road. Then I added, That’s where Mama and I came twice and stayed at the Byrnes Hotel. We’ll see Dewey soon, won’t we, Papa?

Dewey’s waiting to help us unload the wagon and get moved in. Turning to Mama, Papa apologized, He’ll still have to live at the Big Ship Hotel though. I’m sorry, there just isn’t room in this apartment for him to stay with us. It was the only place I could find to lease.

Suddenly Ruby yelled, Papa! Papa! There’s a comet flying across the sky!

Not really a comet, Ruby. It’s one of the searchlights helping men to see through the night so they can keep the steam shovels loading trains with ore. There are three other lights like it. Keep your eyes open and you’ll see them too.

Excitedly I begged, Ruby, Elmer, tomorrow let’s hike up to find them and see how they work! No answer. Looks like I’ll have to nag them.

As we neared Copperfield, above the sound of the horses’ hooves, we noticed a heavy, thump-thumping, a rhythmic throbbing. Ruby asked, Papa, what’s that scary noise?

That’s only the air compressor sending air down the shafts of the U. S. Mine. It never stops. You’ll get used to it. I hardly notice it any more.

When we were up here before, I decided it’s really giants in prison, beating their hands and kicking their feet against the doors, trying to escape.

Mable, what foolishness! Settle down and bottle up that imagination of yours!

Papa’s tone of voice made me keep my mouth shut until he stopped the wagon where a large, two-story building loomed. Dewey leaped from the shadows to jump on Elmer and thump him on the back, then hug Mama and Ruby and me. Each of us grabbed as much as we could carry and followed Papa upstairs to our furnished rooms in the wooden apartment house. After touring the front room, the kitchen, and a small hall with a pantry and a closet of sorts that led into the only bedroom, Mama gasped. It’s so tiny! We’ll have to put a bed in the front room for Ruby and Mable. Elmer, you’ll have to sleep on the couch. Somehow we’ll find a way to fit us in for the rest of the summer!

When we finished unloading, Papa hurried downstairs, turned the wagon around, slapped one of the lead horses on the flanks and watched for a moment as the team trotted down canyon, where he knew they’d return to the livery stable in Bingham. While Mama directed unpacking of suitcases, three old trunks, and odds and ends of boxes, I slipped outside to climb the nearest available hill. My corner of Mt. Pleasant was entirely flat, so the novelty of hills exhilarated me. I loved hills, I decided, and scrambled up and swished down until Mama’s calls forced me inside. Soon, Ruby and I curled up spoon-fashion on blankets on the floor in the living room, where we slept until Papa bought a bed for us, and I listened to the giants’ frantic pounding till sleep blotted out their misery.

* * * * *

Morning brought an immediate challenge. Mable! Mable! Wake up! Ruby urgently tugged on my arm. I hate to use the night pot. Please come with me to the outhouse. I don’t want to go alone.

I threw on my dress, stockings, and shoes, and together we hurried downstairs and outside through a tunnel-like path between the building and a high wall of huge logs, we later learned was called cribbing, which held back the mountainside. It took a few trips before I stopped wondering if those logs and the mountain would crash down on us. Up the steep, rickety, wooden stairs we climbed to reach a four-compartment outhouse just below the railroad tracks. At that very moment, a train of ore maneuvered back and forth, making the frame outhouse sway and tremble. Ruby and I both jumped when the train whistle seemed to blow inside our ears.

I yelled, This place is fifty times smellier than our outhouse in Mt. Pleasant! I’ll bet everyone hurries away as quick as they can. If they do, I won’t need to throw dirt clods through the half-moons carved out at the top of the doors to rush them out so I can have my turn. I did that all the time in Mt. Pleasant. Dire need helped me develop a dead-to-center throw.

Holding our noses, or our breath as freedom of hands dictated, we took care of business, then raced back toward the apartment house door. There stood a horse hitched to a small wagon filled with milk cans, jugs, and little pitchers with long spouts. Waving my arms, I hurried toward the swarthy driver, whose black mustache formed a huge, upside-down U over flashing white teeth.

We need some milk, mister! Will you please wait while we run in to get some money from Mama?

Sure, little lady. But hurry. Lots of people wait for Charlie the Greek to bring milk this morning.

Ruby and I returned quick-as-a-whistle with money and our two-quart pitcher. Carefully, Charlie measured milk in return for the coin Ruby handed him. Then I did what Mama said I shouldn’t do - ask impertinent questions and talk too much. How often do you come?

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Where’s your dairy?

Between Midvale and Bingham.

61571.png

Gee, did you get up at midnight to get clear up here this early? And without waiting for his answer, My mama and brothers used to milk our cow. Do you milk all the cows yourself?

My family helps me.

That’s good! Hope you have a big family! Cows are smelly and lots of work. I’m glad because, for the rest of the summer, no one in our family will have to bother with them. Thanks for doing all that work for us! We’ll see you day after tomorrow, Charlie the Greek! You’re my first friend in Copperfield.

As I set the milk pitcher on the kitchen table, I remarked, Gee, Mama, this is sure easier than all that milking and feeding and cleaning manure you and the boys did in Mt. Pleasant. Will that help you like it here?

I won’t miss milking at all, Mama replied. "That’s one good thing about this move I hadn’t thought about. It will help me like it here."

How will we keep the milk cool? questioned Ruby. There’s no dirt cellar like we had at home.

In a way there is. Come with me. I’ll show you. Mama led us to the rear of the apartment house to a small wooden door. Cold air flowed out as we opened it and stooped to enter. Eight small compartments lined the walls, one for each tenant. Taking the lock and key from door seven, Mama said, This is ours. You’ll be my legs to bring food from here so I can fix meals, and then you’ll have to take left-overs back here to keep them from spoiling. Many, many were the trips we children made carrying food back and forth to that spot! One inviting benefit - a delightful way to cool down.

Just then, Ruby jumped when a whistle shrilled through the air. That doesn’t sound like the train that scared us when we were in the outhouse. What’s that whistle?

Mama explained as we walked back to our apartment. Remember, Mable? Papa told us all about those whistles. That must be the 7:30 whistle telling the men on The Hill to go to work. It’ll blow again at 8:00 for the U.S. Miners. We’ll hear others at 11:30, 12 :00, and 12:30. At 3:00, we’ll hear a deep, bass sound, warning everyone to take cover because of blasting. At 3:30, the regular whistle tells some workers they can quit for the day, and at 4:00, it blows to send the last miners home.

Ruby found one good thing about all the noise, Those whistles will help us make sure we’re never late for lunch.

Mama added, And when you hear that four o’clock whistle, you’ll know it’s time to run home to help me fix supper.

After breakfast, as Mama, Ruby, and I trudged down the canyon on our first trip to buy groceries, we marveled at the differences from Mt. Pleasant. Huge stacks of logs shouldered back mountains of rocks, trying to widen the road, but still it was so narrow there was no sidewalk, so we clung to the far side when any vehicle came near. We thought for sure wagons traveling in opposite directions would collide! More cribbing created space for tiny houses and unpainted wooden shacks squatting almost on the street. A few dwellings boasted a small patch of lawn, a little bush, or a few flowers in front, but most sat in the middle of rocks and dirt, looking shabby and sad. Above us, on the mountainside, perched homes that seemed to be afraid of sliding down, hanging on for dear life!

As we drew nearer to the huge three-story yellow brick building labeled U. S. Hotel, surrounded by several smokestacks and a towering compressor, the increasingly loud thud let us know it must be the giants’ prison. We gazed in awe at the biggest building we ever saw, which stood in front of the highest, longest stack of cribbing in the whole canyon. More crowded little shacks followed.

What a contrast when we noticed a roomy, green wooden home surrounded by a fair-sized lawn, six tall trees, and a white picket fence! A smiling, red-haired girl, who looked about eighteen, jumped from her seat on the porch steps and hurried down the sidewalk to greet us.

Hello. You must be newcomers. I’m Stella Klopenstine.

We introduced ourselves, and before Mama could stop me, I asked an impertinent question. How come you live in this nice house and have a big yard and trees and lawn when everyone else lives all squished together?

My parents were some of the first settlers here, and we bought this land. Most of the other places are property of the company that runs The Hill, and people have to rent them. Mother says this is our place, and we’ll never move away from here, no matter what!

From then on, almost every trip down canyon included a visit with Stella. We were friends for decades, until no matter what time came, and she died, alone and lonely, away from her beloved home in Copperfield.

As we neared the business center, we felt safer because wooden sidewalks protected us from the traffic. Several large, two or three-story apartment houses crowded close together made me think, They’re like anthills for people! Our apartment’s big, but not this huge. I’m sure glad we don’t live there!

Mama took us into the Miner’s Merc to check prices of produce and meat. I didn’t guess how important that place would be to me when I grew older. When we entered The Panhellenic store, we immediately felt at home, because the owners, Chris Bapis and Gus Macris, were so friendly. Even though it smelled of stale tobacco, coffee, garlic and onions, and wilting vegetables, it soon became one of our favorite places to shop. We carried our bags of groceries up the steep road toward our apartment, huffing and puffing all the way, flat-landers trying to develop our hill-climbing muscles!

Saving us from that daily trip were peddler wagons, which came by our apartment house often. Our favorite peddler was still Charlie the Greek with his milk wagon, but once a week, a man selling meat came by, and twice a week, a farmer named Pete came up from the valley to sell vegetables and fruit. He usually had lower prices, more variety, and fresher produce than our stores. It was fun for us kids to try to convince Mama to buy things we liked best, like big piles of bananas or oranges. Most of the time it didn’t work, and she answered, Sorry, but we just can’t afford very many. Those are things we want, but we have just enough money to buy things we need. A lesson I used all my life.

We children were always hungry, and Mama used her delicious homemade bread to make stacks of peanut butter and raisin sandwiches we thought were scrumptious. We did miss having all the good milk we could drink, but I was too excited to miss anything from down home too much - except the rest of my family!

* * * * *

After a few days, Ruby felt a little homesick. "It’s like we moved to a different world! Mt. Pleasant was so quiet. No whistles bossing us around, or loud thumping day and night, or huge explosions thundering and shaking the town. It’s mostly fun being here, but sometimes I can’t help missing our big house by our wide road, and the gurgling sound of the irrigation ditch running on the side of it. I miss our yard with the tall trees and our green lawn the sheep mowed for us."

At times, I felt homesick too, but not for long. Those summer days were pure ecstacy for me. How I wish I had words to explain all our new experiences. Having neighbors right under my nose was a delightful change from the loneliness I sometimes felt in Mt. Pleasant, surrounded by busy farmers, who lived in houses which now seemed very far apart. Replacing the tow-headed Swedes with names like Peterson and Swenson, and Danes with names like Andersen and Olsen and Christiansen, were black or brown-haired Italians, Greeks, Japanese, Serbs, Slovaks, and a dozen other nationalities. With names like Vidalakis and Falsetti, Salazar, Hikada, and Bernardo, they were all very different in customs and religions, speaking a wide variety of languages, or heavily-accented English. In any other setting, I might have felt strange around them, or perhaps even avoided them. But crowded together by narrow canyon walls, we couldn’t help getting acquainted quickly, and before long, we made lots of friends among our interesting neighbors.

It took a few days of begging before I convinced Ruby and Elmer to hike with me to the searchlight house, high on the other side of the canyon. As we trudged toward it, my first sight of the three-story, red brick school filled my stomach with scared, sad feelings of stupidity and failure. I wish summer could last forever!

We crossed the schoolyard and scrambled up hills covered with sagebrush, scrub oak, and many different grasses. My worries had vanished by the time we reached a tiny settlement - which we later learned was called Dinkeyville - because of the dinkeys, small steam engines, used there. Feeling like explorers at the top of the world, we gazed down at the tiny houses and stores on the main street of Copperfield.

61551.png

Dinkeyville reminded us a little of Mt. Pleasant because one man had a flock of goats, some of the people had chickens, and a few had rabbits. We made friends with Al Ivie, a full-time miner/ part-time farmer, petted his mules, and saw his cows grazing nearby. How different this area was from the brown-and-gray, dusty drabness below! The nearby hills were green and covered with trees, small bushes, and grasses. We dug wild onions, brushed off the bulbs with our fingers, and on our clothes, and devoured them. They tasted better to me than onions we used to grow in our garden. Under patches of scrub oak, pinkish-lavender sweet peas grew thigh-high, and we gathered a pretty bouquet to take home to Mama. I couldn’t resist chasing one of the chipmunks which scampered around. We glimpsed a squirrel flash by, and a deer bounded away, its white tail bobbing. When we saw patches of choke cherry and elderberry bushes, Ruby exclaimed, In the fall we can gather these so Mama can make jam. Then, hesitating, That is, if we’re still here in the fall.

When Elmer saw evergreen trees further up the hills, he shouted, Now we know where to chop down a Christmas tree. Then, after a moment, If we stay!

We walked along what we later learned was H line, the highest level on the east side of The Hill. Al Ivie had told us we could safely walk on the tracks, because trains only came along three times a week to bring water in a huge container with a pump so residents could fill their water barrels.

Finally, we reached the searchlight house and examined the lamps with huge carbon candles fastened at top and bottom. We could see they burned in the middle, and giant magnifying glasses threw that light across the canyon. There was never anything that interesting in Mt. Pleasant!

61526.png

During the following days, while we explored other areas, we used the same paths workers did to get from one level of The Hill to the other. At first, afraid of falling, we trembled our way up or down on rocks and boulders, which had been trampled together into fairly firm steps. If we had fallen, we would have broken arms or legs, or worse, as we tumbled down forty to sixty feet to the next level. Before long, we lost all fear and bounded around like mountain goats. It’s a good thing Mama couldn’t see us. She would have been frantic and stopped our explorations!

Once in a while, we came upon small, abandoned, underground mines, which we dared explore only a few feet until it was too dark to see our way any further. Then we beat it out! Other mine entrances were covered with crossed boards; the scariest-looking ones had skeleton heads on signs that warned, DANGER, BEWARE, DO NOT ENTER. Believe me, we didn’t, because Papa told us some were poisoned by black gas.

At first, we thought Copperfield was the end of the world, but as we explored past the top of town, we followed the road about a mile further - around curves so sharp we watched a driver slow his car almost to a stop and honk before he dared go around. There we found a tiny town called Telegraph - a few nice houses and more shacks and shanties, a boarding house, a postage-stamp-sized post office, a theater, and a little grocery store. I used one of my dimes to treat Elmer and Ruby with penny candy to strengthen us on our journeys. The storekeeper gave us three large pieces of fudge, some tiny wax bottles with flavored syrup inside, some licorice, and a candy fake cigar - all for a dime!

While we followed a still narrower, steeper road, we met a brother and sister from the Tural family, who herded cows above Telegraph all summer. Lo-and-behold, above that, we found an even tinier town called Apex.

61505.png

Another day, we hiked about a block past the school, where my stomach cramped with horrible doubts and worries again! Then we followed the road as it turned in the opposite direction to wind its way up the mountainside to Jap Camp, an area containing several long, white dwellings that held about six apartments in each. We saw the community bath house near a water tower, a small grocery store, a large boarding house, and one of the biggest, grassiest open flat spaces in the canyon. Those lucky kids had enough room for outdoor games without playing on the road!

After school started, one of my favorite friends became tiny, glossy-haired Sidako Hikada, who lived there.

Farther up that road came Greek Camp, a cluster of two-story apartment houses and a few scattered shacks, situated in a saddle of the mountain the levels of The Hill had not yet reached, where, you guessed it, lots of Greek workers lived. We were high above the main street of Copperfield, so the roof of our Lerwill apartment building looked like a tiny square, and even the huge U. S. Hotel seemed small. Later, I found a tomboy friend, Eleanor Hyland, who lived clear up there.

* * * * *

That summer, we seemed to have a thunderstorm every afternoon, just enough to dampen the dust on the road and make everything fresh. Bingham had a street sprinkler that drove over their street three times a day, but nature seemed to take care of the dusty road for us here in Copperfield. Some people used barrels to catch rain water, and we soon learned why. City water was so hard we didn’t like to drink it. We kids were assigned the task of trudging up the hill and over the railroad tracks to a spring, where we filled buckets with fresh, clear water. When we washed dishes or took a bath in water from our tap, it was so full of minerals our soap hardly made a lather, and several layers of scum coated the sides of our dish pan or wash tubs. We couldn’t believe how dull and lifeless our hair looked!

The solution to our hair problem came from an unusual source. We learned we could enter through a little door into the huge three-story compressor close to the U. S. Hotel and capture some of the hot, distilled water, which flowed over the top and sides into troughs below. Every Saturday night, before shampooing our hair, we carried buckets there to fill with that pure water, which left our hair shiny and clean enough to make the walk worthwhile!

Wash days in Copperfield presented strange sights. The hillside seemed to be covered with sheets, towels, underwear, and work clothes hung on lines at odd angles in the most unexpected places - from porch poles to fence posts or from poles in the yard to telephone poles down the hill. All those fluttering white sheets made it look like the hills were covered with hidden soldiers waving white surrender flags. Mama felt lucky she could use lines in a flat area back of the apartment house. So did Ruby and I, because it was much easier to gather them too.

* * * * *

In spite of all the inconveniences of living practically on each other’s heads, happiness and gaiety filled our apartment - because we were together. One evening, as Dewey joined us for dinner, I gazed at our family and suddenly realized what an interesting mixture we were! Mama, Dewey, and I were the light ones, with fair skins and sky-blue eyes. Mama’s and Dewey’s hair was light brown, but mine was such a light, golden blonde, people accused me of using peroxide. I didn’t ever need to! When they came up from Mt. Pleasant, if we stayed, George and Gert would fit in with us light ones. Vida would be in the middle, with fair skin but brown eyes and medium brown hair. Papa, Ruby, Elmer, and Ann down in Fairview, were the dark ones, with olive complexions, deep brown eyes, and very dark hair. They fit right in with our Greek and Mexican neighbors. Ruby was glad none of the kids here teased her by saying, The Gypsies left you! like they had in Mt. Pleasant.

I loved the time during supper and afterward when we laughed and talked about the day’s events; Papa and Dewey shared news of happenings on The Hill, then read aloud the best parts of the newspaper. Best of all were the times we coaxed Papa until he told us about some of his adventures.

This was one of those nights. Over dessert of Mama’s scrumptious raisin pie, Elmer studied Papa curiously and ventured, Papa, some of my friends told me their dads call you Butt-Head Knudsen when you’re not around. Is that really true?

A flush of embarrassment colored Papa’s face. I’m sorry to claim it, but it comes with my job. Things often get rough in the thirty saloons open day and night in The Camp. Some of the miners come from countries in Europe where people have hated each other for centuries, and when they’re drunk, they start calling each other names like ‘Bohonks’ and ‘Dagos’. Before you know it, huge fist fights erupt, or they lunge at each other with knives, or shoot up the taverns - and each other. When saloon owners and regular sheriffs call for help, my two deputies and I rush to the scene. Sometimes the brawlers quiet down when we yell, ‘Break it up!’ If they ignore us, my deputies cover me while I approach the ring leader and try again to calm him down. If he still won’t listen to reason, as a last resort, I bring the butt of my gun down on his head. Trouble makers come to their senses pretty fast when they see someone slump to the floor! After I did it once or twice, the word got around, and now when they see me, the men usually cooperate in a hurry!

We kids looked at Papa with new respect, and I blurted out, Golly, Papa, that’s just like the sheriffs in shoot-’em-up Westerns!

Quit talking foolishness, Mable! I only do my job. I hate it when I have to do something to make the men give me a nickname like that!

Papa’s rebuke made me wish, as usual, I’d kept my mouth shut. But I couldn’t help feeling proud of him.

Papa laughed then and said, "Sometimes the darn fools solve their quarrels themselves. Workers who watched it told me about two Austrians in the Bates Saloon. They decided to settle their quarrel with a real fist fight, so they gave their guns and coats to a friend to hold, and asked him to referee. After they fought a few minutes, their friend got so disgusted he shot one in the shoulder, the other in the stomach. Both fighters lived and weren’t put in jail. The Austrian who did the shooting was released from jail - after he paid a fine for disturbing the peace! If I had been there, I’d have stopped it before the shooting."

* * * * *

One thing