There must have been doctors here before the ’80’s but they left no
records. Dr. Lewis B. Robinson came to take charge of the drug store and
to care for the ill and injured. He was a character, crude in his
methods but a family physician of the old school, ready day or night to
go where ever needed. He would go to a home just to see the folks, have
the children stick out their tongues, sometimes leaving pills or asking
them to go by the drug store for a powder. There was a “pest house”
where victims of small pox were quarantined. Once the case was confined
there was improving and had gone outside to sit in the sun, when he went
inside he found that his bedding had disappeared. When “Doc” was
informed he said, “Well never mind, we’ll know who took the blankets in
a few days.” Sure enough, Joe Acosta came down with the small pox and
was marked for the rest of his life. Other doctors came and went and for
a time there was a dentist with his own office and equipment, but
usually the inhabitants depended on the semi-annual visits of Dr. W. H.
White of Silver City to have dental care.
The climate attracted health seekers, particularly those with
tuberculosis. Most followed a rest cure, others tried to work, some went
out to ranches. It is recalled that one young man would go to a
slaughter house whenever a beef was to be killed and drink a cup of warm
blood. Some went home to die, others were shipped East, but there were
others, like Russell Davidson who came from Nova Scotia and was taken
from the train on a stretcher, who lived a long and active life. William
Sweikert was a health seeker (1908-1911) who was interested in the
native population. He was Justice of Peace and as such, came in contact
with some quite often. He was shocked to learn that many families had
not been married so he rounded up the men and women involved and
persuaded them to get licenses and he would perform the civil
ceremonies. When that had been done, the next step was to have the
marriages blessed by a priest. All friends and relatives gathered,
children dressed in new white dresses or blue jeans formed a procession
to the church. “Un Gran’ Baile” was held and the bridegrooms broke
“carones” over the heads of the gray-haired brides with as much ardor as
much younger gay caballeros would have done.
Soldiers from Fort Bayard had always ridden across the hills, at first
on duty, then to call on the pretty girls. Many passes were issued
because of a party or a dance. However, the girls were choosy and not
all soldiers were welcomed. They were admitted to other places, however,
and their trails could be followed by the “dead soldiers” (large brown
beer bottles) lying along the way. There were plenty of attractive young
men in town and the homes where there were girls were hospitable. A
favorite song among the boys was:
“Let’s all go up to Maud’s
We’ll have a jubilee.
Make love to all her sisters, boys
But please leave Maud to me.”
They had the Lee home in mind where Mrs. Lee was even more popular than
her four daughters.
Henry Young and his brother, John, about 1900, sold their ranch above
Fort Bayard and came to Pinos Altos where they built a livery stable.
Henry is remembered for his tall tales of his own achievements. However,
he was a hard worker and the results of his efforts often justified his
stories. He had the fastest horses, the best equipment, he raised the
best vegetables and fruits. He introduced the Stark Delicious apple to
this section and won several awards for them at state fairs.
Each mining company had its own engineers, foremen, and laborers and
their families joined the men. The community regretted seeing friends
depart and at the same time they welcomed the newcomers. Often the
change brought an outstanding person—such was Mrs. Grace Griswold Adams.
She was a teacher in the Milwaukee Schools who had bought stock in the
Savannah Mining Company. For a summer vacation she decided to visit
Silver City where she could see something of what her mining stock
represented. She liked the country and the people so asked for and was
granted a year’s leave of absence. She took a position in the smelter
office but was persuaded by Mr. F. J. Davidson to leave it and teach in
Pinos Altos. She married George H. Bisby of a pioneer Lone Mountain
family and lived here, teaching part of the time, for 36 years. She was
an interesting conversationalist, being a keen observer and well-read.
Her hobbies were music and painting, she was always ready for a bridge
or a croquet game, and her home was always “Open House.” A Christmas
party at the Bisby’s was something to remember.
When the town was particularly prosperous a Fourth of July celebration
would be held. It began with the band parading to the speaker’s stand,
the singing of the National Anthem, a prayer, and a flowery, stirring
oration. Then came some events for the young fry—climbing a greased pole
or catching a greased pig, foot races and a burro race. The Ladies Aid
and the Catholic Women helped feed the crowd at noon. Restaurants served
special menus and many ate picnic lunches under the trees. In the
afternoon there was a baseball game on the regular ball grounds by the
“Gopher” where there was a grand stand for spectators. The drilling
contest would take place nearby on the rocks east of the Gopher dump.
Fireworks preceded the dances in the evening, rounding out a grand and
glorious day. Often bets were taken on the hour and minute that rain
would fall. Summer rains generally started on the Fourth. The procedure
was patterned after the wagers made in Alaska as to the time the ice
would go out. The one giving the nearest time won the jackpot. The burro
race was unique. Each youngster entered his own burro but rode one
belonging to someone else. The slowest burro won, so every rider forced
his mount to the greatest speed possible.
After World War I many discharged men settled here, partly for reasons
of health and partly because they liked the place. Harry Hickel, Bob
Riddle and Jim Bonnelly were among them. They loved the out-of-doors and
shared in community affairs so they were interesting families to have as
neighbors.
The young people among the new arrivals had to be initiated. If the
young man was a tenderfoot he was taken “snipe hunting” but girls were
treated in a more original fashion. They would be invited for a
horseback ride to see the mines. The hostesses would rent horses from
the miners who habitually stopped at the saloons on the way home from
work. As the returning party approached town it was seen to that the
horses were on their usual trails. In front of the saloons the horses
would come to a dead stop. No amount of coaxing, whipping, nor
under-the-breath cursing would make them move for ten minutes, just long
enough for the owners to have their usual drinks. Then the horses lifted
their heads and trotted to the home corrals. This may not seem funny
now, but it was hilarious when a “nice girl” would not even glance at a
bar room door. There were no hard feelings—it was just part of the wild
and woolly west.
Pinos Altos was not a lawless place as old mining camps were supposed to
be. There was a stout jail, first on the main street and then moved to
the “Mill Site.” Offenders were not confined long. In early days if the
crime was a major one justice was swift, and if it was a petty offence
one night locked up was sufficient to sober the inmate. Mr. H. E. Muse
was marshal for a time and his presence was enough to make would-be law
breakers watch their steps. Ex-President Theodore Roosevelt, speaking
from the steps of the Eckles home in Silver City on July 11, 1913,
referred to a murder committed by one of his “Rough Riders” in Pinos
Altos. The man had written for help saying, “he had killed a lady but
thought he was shooting his wife.”
Mr. and Mrs. Peter Wagner had not been in America long when they came
West during the ’70’s. Another French family came later and the two
couples became close friends. When a baby was born to the second couple
and the mother died, the Wagners took the baby girl and loved her as
their own. Mrs. Wagner had been a lace-maker in Belgium and everything
she made for the baby was trimmed with exquisite hand made lace. The
Wagners wanted to adopt the child but the father would not give his
consent. When the little girl was three years old the father left and
took his daughter with him. Mrs. Wagner grieved until she became ill and
after that was always considered queer. She would talk to herself and to
her dogs but not to people. Besides working a mine and mill, “Pete” had
a barber shop next door to John Oglesby’s saloon. Bob Close was a
character who was very proud of his goatee. One day when he came into
town he visited the saloon where he imbibed freely then went to the
barber shop for a hair cut and a trim. He fell asleep in the chair and
Pete went on to other business leaving him there. Some rascal saw him,
slipped in and cut off the goatee. When old Bob awoke, from habit, he
started to stroke his goatee. It was not there, nor was the barber, so
he went raging into the saloon threatening to pound the little Frenchman
to a pulp. Mr. Oglesby laughed and Bob accused him of the dastardly act,
he swore and fingered his face, fighting mad. It took six men to subdue
him and to assure him that the injury was not permanent. Wagner had
invested in Silver City real estate and after his death Mrs. Wagner
would walk there often carrying her shoes in her market basket, and
after doing her shopping and collecting the rents would walk back. Mrs.
Oglesby, who sometimes drove the stage, was the only person she would
ride with. Later Henry Geitz was appointed trustee. Once he and Mrs.
Wagner made a trip to Europe together in an attempt to find relatives.
Mrs. Wagner said the persons they found were too old and she insisted on
returning. During World War I all trace was lost of the relatives of
both Mr. and Mrs. Wagner. Once when the rent was being given her, Mrs.
Wagner said that she did not want the money, that the can in the
woodpile was full. Some time later she was beaten and robbed and died as
a result.
Fights originated in saloons and dance halls more often than anywhere
else. Arguments started that only fist fights or gun play would settle.
Usually the participants would be thrown out before anything serious
happened. One Christmas Day, Tom Gibson, having the fore-runner of the
Boy Scouts’ good deed in mind, offered to tend bar while John Oglesby
ate dinner with his family. The loafers thought they would have some fun
with the “tenderfoot,” as they regarded Tom. John kept a gun beneath the
bar and Joe Acosta went looking for it. Tom told him to keep away. That
started the fuss. Tom thought he was going to need the gun but it was
not in the usual place so he tackled the bunch and literally threw each
one out including big Valentine Gutierrez. Tom was accepted as a right
guy from that time. Some G.O.S. cowboys were on their way back to the
ranch after driving a herd to the stock yards. They had been having a
big time in Silver City and were still whooping it up when they arrived,
dropped the bridle reins and entered a saloon. A newcomer was acting as
constable that day, and carrying a shot gun. He went after the cowboys
for disturbing the peace and escorted them to the jail. As he unlocked
the door he was overpowered, the key and his gun taken and he was locked
inside. The cowboys returned to the saloon and, leaving the key and gun,
told Mr. Oglesby what they had done and cautioned him to keep the
constable locked up over night. Old “Plunder,” another of the town’s
characters, went to let the man out next morning and dubbed him
“Shot-Gun Smith.” “Oh, but my name is Alexander Keys,” said the
erstwhile constable with dignity—but “Shot-Gun Smith” was what he was
called as long as he was in the vicinity.
Juvenile delinquency was never a great problem. Boys always threw rocks.
If a house was vacated vandals took it over. It was “great fun” to tease
Mrs. Wagner. It was rumored she always carried a butcher knife in her
market basket. Joe Munoz was tormented just to hear him storm in fluent
Italian. Joe had a small store with rooms to rent above it. When it
burned two men died in the blaze and a Silver City paper reported “that
10,000 other lives were lost”. Bed bugs. It is recalled that just after
the Waterburys and their associates had gone, leaving a caretaker at the
property, some youngster at school suggested that, since the caretaker
was out of town for the day, it was a good time to have a swimming party
in the Mammoth tank. He had seen the Waterburys swim there and he knew
the tank was full. Swimming togs were unknown but since it was a boy and
girl group that got together after school they gathered up odds and ends
that would serve as bathing suits for everyone but one small girl.
Finally they put her into her father’s hunting coat saying it was just
the thing because it was water proof. The little girl jumped in as the
others did, the pockets filled with water, and she went to the bottom
like a chunk of lead. Fortunately the big boys got her out. Then it was
suggested that each one take a souvenir from the house. The girls
selected pens from an assortment on a desk and the boys searched for
things more to their liking. Imagine what happened when the youngsters
reached home! It was return the articles at once—or else! Never was a
mile so long as that trudged by the weary and frightened children as
they went back to the Mammoth. Pilfering never interested that
particular group again. Another gang barbequed Mrs. Wagner’s chickens.
For a season or two the main diversion of warm moonlight evenings was
for the young people to raid orchards one evening. The next day the
girls would make fruit pies which were enjoyed with coffee and music
around a bonfire. One evening a plump forest ranger from Alabama was
with the group when they took some luscious peaches from the old
“Stanley Place.” The ranger put them inside his white shirt when the
group was startled and ran with them to the high board fence at the rear
of the orchard. Over he went, then with Southern gallantry, turned to
help a girl, but she hadn’t waited for help. She landed bang against his
chest and the peaches. He did not go on any more raiding parties. It was
not known until years later that a conscientious young engineer who
roamed with the gang would go to the owner, whether Bisby, Watson, or
Young, the next day after the forage and pay for the fruit.
Fire was always a hazard and in spite of a volunteer fire department
with a hand pump, hose, ladders and buckets the town was seriously
damaged on many occasions. The first big fire occurred in 1888 just as
the day shift, coming from work, reached the main street. They dropped
their lunch pails and formed bucket brigades to the nearest wells. The
smoke was seen in Cornishtown and the “Cousin Jacks” came hurrying down.
It was midnight before the fire was out. The saloon keepers, whose
buildings had been saved, rolled out the barrels and told the wearied
fighters to help themselves. They did so gratefully and sat around
singing until dawn. Spanish, English, Italian and Cornish voices blended
in everything from drinking songs to hymns, from Mexican folk songs to
operatic arias. Years afterwards a man who had been there said it was
the finest concert he ever heard. The second big fire took the hotels
and several homes late in the ’90’s. Other fires were controlled and
kept from spreading but as the years went by fewer of the houses were
rebuilt. The hotels never were. Mr. and Mrs. Louis Legros (parents of
Mrs. Alice Huff) had a rooming house, restaurant, and bakery and they
took care of transients for years. Later there were other accommodations
until a surfaced road and good cars made it more convenient for visitors
to stay comfortably in Silver City and to drive up to conduct business,
admire the scenery, and to chat with old friends.
Pinos Altos was really settled by veterans of the War between the States
and veterans of other wars have had their places in the life of the
camp. Three or four young men were Rough Riders serving with Teddy
Roosevelt. A number of the boys were members of the National Guard and
as such were called to go after Pancho Villa. The very day they were
welcomed home the United States declared war on Germany and they went
off again. Like innumerable towns throughout the world our town had few
able-bodied men left during World War II. From our small community
twenty-five were in service and seven made the supreme sacrifice.
The Gila National Forest was established in 1906 and Pinos Altos was
within the boundaries. Later the line was moved about one mile to the
north where it now is. The Forest Service bought the old Dick Lee home,
moved another building from the Burro Mountains and constructed a
station. The first ranger stationed here was A. H. Douglas. At one time
there were as many as five rangers on duty. There was much field work to
be done which required horseback riding and packing over rough trails.
Signal Peak originally was the peak nearer the Twin Sisters—so called
because there was a signal station there in Indian days. Men from nearby
saw mills—Ripley’s, Brownells, McMillan or Franeys—manned the station.
The Forest Service chose Black’s Peak for its look-out. It is a few feet
lower in altitude but has a better command of the forest. Many people
now refer to it as “Signal”. In 1959 the Forest Service built a road to
the tower. Get permission and a jeep and drive up in the spring when
iris and locust are in bloom. It’s a treat.
A ghost town should have ghosts but none walk at the present time.
However in the past there were events that curdled the blood and made
one tremble with fear. There was a strike at one of the Pacific mines,
not for higher wages, but perhaps it could be called for better working
conditions. Laborers refused to work in a certain stope or to push the
tram cars through a long tunnel from the stope to the ore bins. In those
days miners carried iron candle sticks, with sharp points that could be
stuck in the ground where light was needed. The first thing that
disturbed the workers was the disappearance of the candles stuck along
the tunnel walls before they could have burned out. Then they began to
see moving lights and they knew evil spirits had taken over that part of
the mine for no good purpose. After the second day when no worker had
entered that section a foreman decided to get at the root of the
trouble. He placed lighted candles in the usual places and sat down to
watch and wait. After what seemed to be hours he heard furtive noises in
the timbering, then a light went out, another light began to move. With
his hair literally standing on end he held his breath. Three large gray
pack rats, each bearing a candle, the one with the unlighted candle in
the rear came into view. He let out a mighty yell. For him the mystery
was solved but it took time and traps to convince the miners.
Another time as the graveyard shift came to the surface the men noticed
a peculiar wavering light in the sky. Their first thought was that Pinos
Altos was ablaze. They hurried up the trail to where they could look
down on the town. All was serene. The lights were brighter and they said
long fingers of blue and green mostly reached out, threatening the town.
Making the sign of the cross, clutching their amulets, and muttering
prayers they ran toward their homes, pausing now and then to warn their
friends and neighbors. Practically everyone in town watched and marveled
at the Northern Lights that night.
A woman in black walked the streets for a time. No one knew who she was
nor where she stayed. She was never known to speak a word. One Sunday
after the usual evening service a young woman employed in the Thayer
home and a handsome stranger were married by Rev. Van Valkenburgh. This
was the first wedding in the new church. The couple appeared to be very
happy as they furnished and decorated their new home, and callers
received a warm welcome. A shadow seemed to fall over the home in a
short time and the gossips speculated about the reason. It was rumored
that the Woman in Black was seen walking at night near the place.
Without a word of explanation, the couple abandoned their home and
secretly left town. The Woman in Black disappeared also. The Thayers may
have known the reasons but, if so, they kept the secret.
The most baffling mystery was an episode that happened at the Davidson
sawmill on Cow Creek about 1915. Billy Soule was running the mill at the
time and he and his wife, Jimmie, lived there. A wild looking young man
walked into camp one evening and said that he had been led there. Mr.
Soule was suspicious but he gave the man supper and took him to a cabin
where he could spend the night. Billy cautioned him about fire, said
“Good night” and left him alone, vowing to himself that he would send
the young man on his way in the morning. About midnight the camp was
awakened by cries and calls from the forest. The first thought was of
fire and everyone dashed out, prepared to fight their greatest foe. All
was calm. Then the call came again for Mr. Soule, saying “Follow me,
follow me”. Jimmie would not let her husband venture off without her, so
both took their guns and headed in the direction indicated by the call.
When they reached the man they found him pale and trembling but he would
not explain, saying only that the voices told him to go up the mountain
and that a light had guided him to the spot. After climbing about a
half-mile, he stopped and pointed. Both Billy and Jimmy Soule said
afterwards that they saw a light—a sort of glow near the ground under a
large pine. Reaching the place they found a newly dug hole and in it was
a human skeleton. The man said that his mission was ended and he would
be on his way. However, Soule detained him and called the authorities.
The sheriff went out early next morning, looked over the scene,
questioned the man but learned nothing. The sheriff said the man was too
young to have murdered the man whose bones were crumbling—that he was
just a “crack-pot”. The hole was filled and forgotten, the young man was
taken into Silver City and sent on his way. The mystery was never
solved.