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GALLUS FRAME AT ORPHAN GIRL MINE
Today it’s the World Museum of Mining but I remember it as the Orphan Girl mine where Grandpa Fritz was caretaker during the years we vacationed in Montana.
We would approach the Orphan Girl along a high wooden fence When we came to the gate there was a hole through which you could see a rope bell pull. We would pull it and then Grandpa would open the gate for us. The caretaker’s house was along the fence very close to the gate. It was a small, one bedroom house with an enclosed porch in the back that served as a second bedroom. When we arrived I always ran ro Grandma’s pantry, where she would usually have put some of her filled raisin cookies that we loved.
It was crowded in such a small house with our growing family. We (the chidren) slept on the floor in sleeping bags. I remember in 1953 (we were there in my ninth birthday) we were spread over the living room floor. All day long Grandpa had been threatening to give me a birthday spanking, one swat for each year. He hadn’t gotten in more than one (very light) swat all day. When we were ready for bed, I was in front of Grandpa’s favorite chair. He stepped over me to get to it and the toe of his slipper brushed my forehead. He immediately bent down with a very concerned look and asked if he had hurt me. He hadn’t, and I said so, He instantly resumed his usual gruff look and said that he still owed me seven more swats. Too late! From that moment on I knew he was really a softie inside that gruff exterior.
Every night it was Grandpa’s duty as watchman to turn on the floodlights over the mine yard. He usually let me accompany him on his rounds. One night after all the lights were turned on, he stopped in the gallus frame building (it’s in the picture above) to talk with some miners there. I guess there was a small crew still working even though the mine was not active. When Grandpa went to the bathroom they started talking about him. They really respected him as a crusty old-timer. I also learned about how Broken Ass Kelly got his name (a story for another time) and how they introduced Cabbage Ass McManus (don’t ask) to his future father-in-law by that moniker. Grandpa’s nickname was Hardface.
I made my last summer trip to Montana in 1958 for Grandpa’s funeral. I’ll tell the story of that trip later. The family didn’t go back until 1964, by which time I had a job and coud only go with the fanily as far as Kansas City. I went one more time to Butte in 1970 with Camen and Eric, who was almost 1. That trip was in April, when I discovered that summer in Butte was the first two weeks of August. April was late winter, and we had snow. That trip will also be in another post.