Author Archive for M. Toole
Tommyknocker Tales
The following could be the first in a series of four or may be the last in a series of one.
It was 1975. I was camped up Marshall Basin near the Bullion Tunnel in the heart and bones of what was once one of the richest, silver producing mines in North America, the Smuggler-Union. Even upon my arrival, which occurred at pale light on an angelic summer evening, I felt that I had company. When darkness fell I attempted to start a campfire but the damn thing kept going out due to a persistent breeze that only seemed to come up when I lit the scant pieces of quakey that I had hauled up the hill in my pack.
It was getting colder as I reached for my ax which I had leaned against a volunteer ponderosa which, at this snarled elevation, looked like it missed the last ore cart off the mountain a long time ago. The ax was gone, moved rather, across a tiny gulch, propped up against a pile of rocks that led to the delapidated tunnel. I went to retrieve the tool and get on with dinner.
Grabbing the implement I shot a glance in the direction of the old boarding house. It was then that I heard voices, laughter, but it wasn’t coming from the skeleton of lumber and rock. It was coming from behind me. I turned quickly and was amazed to see a small man with a mule standing next to my once insolent fire which was now blazing away like hell’s own combustion furnace. The small figure beckened me to join them at the hearth and I’d swear to this day on a stack of mining claims that the mule winked at me.
As I pendulously meandered in the direction of what had been the core of my evening’s festivities I heard the little man talking to the mule. This was not their virgin conversation and she jadedly hung on every word.
“Looks like we got a dinner invite,” said the man clanking along, searching through a conglomeration of rusty gear piled high atop the back of his four-legged companion. “Oh, put your ears down, Becky, I’m just looking for that caste iron fry pan. What did you do with it, you stringy beast?”
The mule responded, much like her kind do, with as grunt. She stomped her feet and eyeballed the familiar intruder, her blinkers set way back in her fickle noggin.
“There it is,” whispered to the sky. Then he shot a glance in my direction.
“You’re on my land, boy. I filed on this piece in 1889 a few years before the Smuggler-Union started producing. What are you doing up here anyway, and at night to boot.”
His voice seemed distant. Both he and his mule patiently waited for my reply.
“Just camping, sir,” I spouted, quickly aware that I may have been too formal. It was my paroachial education coming back to bite me on the posterior once again.
“Camping? What kind of nonsense is camping? Hell, son, when you live in these mountains the only camping worth a toot is in the bath tub at the Brown Palace over across the hill. You nuts kid?”
He then surgically extratced my entire life in a matter of moments and, after listening intently, told me point blank that none of my kind had any respect for what our forerunners had done to tame these mountains.
“Bunch of damn tinhorns in funny shoes,” he said peering down at my Italian hiking boots that cost even more than a light lunch in the Mountain Village.
“Now just a minute, sir,” I started. “First you tell me I’m tresspassing, then you ask me a lot of personal questions, now you tell me I don’t have any respect. If I was one of those people you’re gabbing about I’d still be back in Denver married to some perfume clerk, selling BMWs. Sure, I’m a bit green but I’ll bet you were too when you first crossed the Divide.”
The man stared at me and said, “What’s for dinner, sonny?”
I said “Stew. I made it last night, then froze it in these zip-lock bags…”
“Kind of like an old bear burrying his dinner for a few days before eating.”
Despite his initial hessitancy with the packaging methods he scarfed down the stew. It was like he hadn’t eaten in years. Even the mule had a go at the stuff, eagerly licking the pan at the end of the meal.
“So, what do you intend to do for work in these parts?” he shot out of nowhere. “The mines are all but closed and there’s never been any money in ranching, unless you got cows full of gold.
“Of course, come to think of it most of the miners were working for $2.50 a day back at the turn-of-the-century, and that was 10 hours, boy, with no coffee breaks in a dark, dangerous hole in the ground. We always said it was like digging your way to hell, an hour at a time. But from some of the things I’ve seen hell could be no worse. If not for the union it would have been impossible. Did I mention that I was a union man?”
It was then that he embarked on the epic, though unsolicited history lesson of the day. He talked of snowslides that wiped out mining camps in minutes and rousing dance hall interludes. He told me about William Jennings Bryan and his Cross of Gold “conspiracy” as he called it. I heard about Jack Dempsey and Lillian Gish then more about Bulkeley Wells and Sarah Bernhardt. He talked about a Christmas fire at a Colorado mining hall years ago. His attention to detail was quite impressive considering his years. He acted as if he had known them all.
“On a Saturday night you could drink with miners from all over the world. Finns, Cornish, Swedes, Italians, Germans, Serbs and even a few Chinese thrown in for spice,” he smiled. “Then there were the Irish, like me. Most were in the union.”
“Were you born in Ireland?”
“Of course, boy. Where else? Came over on a clipper.
I asked him his name.
“Patrick McGinty…and yours?”
We talked all night. Becky seemed to be taking shorthand in the lichen. I invited him to share my fire till dawn and was soundly scolded since, after all I was tresspassing in the first place.
“No, we’ve got to be going. Tomorrow I’ve got to go down to Ames and visit the doctor. Mercury poisoning you know. But if you’ll come back here next Friday night we’ll meet up with you,” he said. “There’s a mound of history that we need to drill into your head.”
I promised to return, feeling rather flattered that he sought the company of newcomer like me.
Patrick McGinty. Now there’s a name with character. When I landed back in Telluride on Monday I stopped by the courthouse to check on his stimulating credentials. After about a half hour of searching farther and farther back into the dusty records I found a McGinty, a bachelor named Patrick who had come to Telluride in 1884 from County Clare. It read: Patrick McGinty: Born March 20,1865, died July 3, 1901, during the labor trouble at the Smuggler-Union. A union man.
Next time: “A Visit With a Dead Man at 12,000 Feet”
SAN JUAN SHAVINGS
Local celebrities to give away money
(Telluride) A contingent of recognized celebrities, and some what think they are such, has formulated a strict arrangement that should allow them to rejoin the ranks of mortals. The luminaries currently share space on the planet with the masses and have apparently now turned their illustrious heads toward parity for all.
The blueprint calls for committed celebrities to leave baskets of cash all over San Miguel and Ouray Counties marked “Please accept this cash donation with best regards”. It is then signed by the donor with either his/her real name or a stage name.
“For instance Sylvester Stallone might sign his basket `Rambo’ or Dennis Weaver might have written `Chester’ on his offering,” said Melvin Toole, coordinator of the event and the self-professed only honest man left in either county. “Imagine the relief as these notables get rid of the trappings of fame and success. Imagine the happiness these gifts will bring to residents of the San Juans who have just paid income taxes and are waiting to refill coffers after the winter. It’s like a local lottery where someone actually has a chance in hell of winning something,” he sobbed. “It’s beautiful.”
The celebrity consortium, numbering over 50 people will give away an estimated 4.8 million dollars over the next two months, holding back a few thousand dollars to get them through until the next film or book hits the money machine.
“It’s really no big deal,” said one renown director. “Easy come…easy go, you know.”
Some of the rich and famous have not joined in the mass hand outs preferring to keep their booty for themselves. Critics suggest that somewhere down the road these persons will be lost in the shuffle.
“How will people be able to determine real celebrities from plain old people who just happen to be rich,” suggests Toole. “Talk about buying notoriety. Oh, my. We’ve opened up Pandora’s Box once again.”
Although no names were named Toole insists that this phenomenon is real and that locals should keep an eye on the mailboxes, be on the lookout for discarded grocery sacks and shoe boxes and leave their car windows open so as to be receptive to abrupt deposits.
RIDGWAY GETS CRIME GRANT
(Tail Town) Ridgway has been named the recipient of a $300,000 grant which seeks to bring the criminal element into town government. The money will be spent to lure low lifes into the town infrastructure so that the town council can rationalize hiring more police officers.
“It’s a win-win situation here,” says Suzie Compost, director of criminal activities for the council. “It’s simple supply and demand politics in full regalia. We like it.”
The grant came faster than expected, especially considering that it had to be approved on the state level. First, local police were complaining about nothing to do, nobody to arrest. Second, they (the cops) started hanging out in front of the bars, shadowing revelers. Third, the revelers got mad and complained back to the town council. Fourth, the council decided to shift the heat and petitioned the state to do something.
“We’re amazed at the speed of the response,” said Compost. “Usually they take longer than that to get their pencils sharpened every day. It’s shocking. We’re not ready to put the plan into action and already strange persons have been arriving in town, some with tattoos. Maybe we’ll just deputize all the newcomers. That could work. Either way, it should be an interesting summer.”
ALIENS TO SKIP ROSWELL UFO REUNION THIS SEASON
(Norwood) Space travelers from distant stars will avoid landing near Roswell, New Mexico this summer due to the presence of some 2,000 cosmos and omniverse campers who have paid $90 for the privilege of camping there. The aliens instead plan a small reunion here. The campers will sleep at the site of a purported spacecraft crash in 1947.
UFO aficionados will engage in the week-long celebration in early July, commemorating the anniversary of the alleged sighting, called “dubious at best” by the Air Force. Meanwhile the supposed alien clique will gather on Wright’s Mesa.
Forward agents for the aliens have already booked hotels and the grocery, bars and liquor stores are gearing up for what may be the most lucrative week of the summer.
“This could be bigger than the Prairie Dog Shoot,” said a Norwood firewater merchant. “It’s tough to know what to order, though. I don’t know what aliens drink.”
The aliens reportedly chose Norwood since the town has a reputation for tolerance.
“We’ve had to tolerate all those refugees from Telluride over the years,” said one resident who asked not to be named. “That’s no simple chore, you know.”
A rancher near Roswell found debris on July 8, 1947, including some sort of flying disc which the Air Force said was part of a top secret monitoring balloon.
“The Air Force has been spying on our cows for the past 20 years and they’ve denied that too,” said our chatty source. Now they say there are no UFOs around here despite the fact that everyone has seen them three or four times at the least. Imagine that.”
FEDS RAID HORSESHOE WEB SITE
(Colona) Combined forces of the Federal Bureau of Infestation, the Unwed Mothers of the American Revolution and the Newt-Whirled Order carried out an intricate predawn raid of the San Juan Horseshoe Web Site near here. The once secret location was tear gassed, burned to the ground, its apparatus hauled off to crime laboratories for extensive testing.
The law enforcement agencies found cellular phones, a laptop computer, an extensive file with the home numbers of local pizza delivery personnel, a Confederate flag, some stale doughnuts, an 800 number, empty beer cans and a clock radio. They think the operators of the web site might have been spying for North Korea, Iran or both. In addition, preliminary data, collected on the spot, suggests a connection with the infamous Colona Mail Order Husband Ring that was brought to its knees, with the help of local informants, in March.
This is the second successful haymaker delivered by the FBI in as many years. Readers may choose to recall the apprehension of Red McSwill or Log Hill Mesa who, doing business as Red’s Garage, was indicted for tampering with local odometers during the Nixon Presidency. He is currently serving a prison sentence in his mother-in-law’s home at Nucla.
SLEEPING INDIAN PRIMED FOR SNEEZE
(Ridgway) One of the region’s most dominant landmarks, the Sleeping Indian, is scheduled for his 100-year explosion this month. The Native American rock formation’s first recorded sneeze came in 1697 and was witnessed by Fathers Escalante and Dominguez as they traveled through the San Juans searching for a place to build a real estate office. Later in 1797 the chief blew up again, causing the Uncompahgre River to change course. The last time the Sleeping Indian sneezed it was with such force and determination that it effectively destroyed the town of Ridgway and the railroad all the way to the town of Dallas. In fact, the only building left standing was the Little Chef, a sacred location on most Ute topo maps.
Residents are urged to stay in their homes from June through August , or until the chief goes off. Ridgway Hardware will be selling folding chairs through May with which to view the sneeze.
He had not returned our calls as of 3 am.
CAMP BIRD NETS ANCIENT DIRT SAMPLES
(Ouray) Recent excavations at the Camp Bird Mine have some geologists wondering how long rocks have been in the ground. Early samples of dirt and rocks were discovered last summer as far up as Yankee Boy Basin all the way down to Box Canyon.
“This changes everything,” said local geologist Tim Rosefriar. “It’s now clear that the earth is a hell of a lot older than we thought and so are the people engaged in stupid articles like this one.”
– Uncle Pahgre
Maginot Line Will Tour Colorado in July
from You’re Only Ancient History Forever
(Crested Butte) The legendary Maginot Line, completed in 1936 and thought to be impregnable by the French, will visit this former coal-mining giant as part of a 250-year celebratory summer spectacular journey through the Rockies.
Joining the Maginot Line will be the upstart Siegfried Line, or West Wall as well as the stumblebum Hindenburg Line, a German forward defensive position built in 1916-1917 near Soissons on the Aisne.
What the three lines have in common is that none actually kept anyone out. The Maginot was flanked in 1940, the Siegfried slowly deserted in the face of bloody Allied victories from 1944 to 1945, and the Hindenburg, despite spotty fighting, was lost to the Armistice signed in way back in 1919.
Perhaps what continues to delight war historians is the failure of the Maginot Line, which proved worthless when the Germans simply took a shortcut through Belgium, going around the lavish defenses and marching on to Vichy Paradise. Two wars in a row saw German troops soaking their feet in the Meuse
Despite its link to the nation’s most devastating defeat in history the line still evokes a certain pride, a subtle patriotism. Discovered in a Paris garbage heap in 1942, the failed logistical landmark was cleaned up and put back together from pre-World War II maps and graphs. Its accompanying military fortifications Siegfried and Hindenburg have always been maintained and had only to be collected and shipped (pillboxes and all) to New York where the coming summer tour of the United States originates.
“The real draw here remains the Maginot,” said Entraylea Maginot, great-granddaughter of Andre Maginot the namesake of the inglorious ditch. “That’s what the people come out to see. It cost 3 billion francs just for the carpeting!”
The older Maginot, who, fortunately for his Noblesse oblige, passed on some eight years before the line’s ineffectiveness was brought to light by German generals in 1940, did not know either of the other lines. It is expected that they will all get along during the travels.
The Colorado Division of Enforcement and Tourism hopes that the inclusion of the tours and the legal sale of legal marijuana will increase tourism by 30% this summer.
– Bambi Bumble
Mosquito Luncheon Planned for Grand Mesa
(Ward Lake) An annual luncheon, sponsored by the Colorado Mosquito Legions, will be held Saturday, July 25 from 10 am to 3 pm on Grand Mesa. Mosquitos from all over the state are expected to be in attendance. Following a brief welcome picnic a host of parasitic field games will be held in the afternoon with a showing of the film Count Dracula in the evening under the stars. According to one organizer the luncheon will most likely stretch into the dinner hour with lots of buzzing and munching going on. Out-of-state mosquitos needing directions or transportation should call the CML by July 1. Interested humans are encouraged to attend and need not bring anything but themselves.
Congress Pledges to Fight Cannibalism in Chambers
(Warshington) Lawmakers on both sides of the political football have pledged to confront the growing problem of cannibalism in the House and Senate. In a joint statement both Democrats and Republicans called for an end to the primitive ritual which has plagued the governing bodies since the 2024 elections.
“We cannot conduct business in the shadow of this menace,” said one Republican who accused Democrats of head hunting and bad table manners. “This time these liberals have bitten off more than they can chew.”
Watchdog groups here have investigated over 40 cases of alleged cannibalism in the past two months. Despite ridiculous pensions, royal health care and bribes from lobbyists these elected officials appear to be hungry for more.
“This was never a problem until the evangelicals and the Tea Party people took their seats,” said a high-ranking Democrat who claims that Congressional cannibalism can no longer be hidden from the American people.
“Cannibalism has no place in a clean, well operated and transparent government and it won’t fly in these chambers either,” added the high Democrat.
Cannibalism, which is not mentioned in the Constitution, the Bill of Rights or the New Testament has been defined as the willful consumption of one’s fellow species. It is seen as a power play by those who would break bread with the devil himself to further their selfish agendas.
“We have a morality problem in the Congress,” said one monitoring source. “There is none.
– Fred Zeppelin
Incompetent fascists on parade
The Trump administration hasn’t accomplished any of its war aims. The Iranian regime is intact, perhaps even more hard-line than before the war now that the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps appears to exert greater control. There has been no unconditional surrender; Iran still possesses substantial stocks of highly enriched uranium; it still possesses a formidable missile arsenal; and it still supports terrorist proxies that wage war against Israel.
