Moose County Legends

How many mining buffs know that one ofMoose County’s ten coal mines was operatedby a woman—more successfully than somemen were doing? She said she was only carrying on the work of her late husband. MaggieSprenkle tells this story regarding her great-grandmother Bridget.

—JMQ

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This story about pioneer days in Moose County has been handed down in my family and I believe it to be absolutely true. There were heroes and villains in our history, and many of them were involved in mining.

As you know, there were ten mines in operation—and enough coal for all—but most of the owners were greedy, exploiting their workers shamefully. My great-grandfather, Patrick Borleston, owned the Big B mine. He and another owner, Seth Dimsdale, cared about their workers’ health, safety, and families, and their attitude paid off in loyalty and productivity. Their competitors were envious to the point of hostility. When Patrick was killed in a carriage accident, his workers were convinced that someone had purposely spooked his horses.

They suspected Ned Bucksmith, owner of the Buck-shot mine. Immediately he tried to buy the Big B from the 쑽쑽쑽

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Lilian Jackson Braun widow. But Bridget was a strong woman. She said she’d operate it herself. The idea of a woman mine operator shocked the other owners, and when the mother of three proceeded to do a man’s job better than they could, their antagonism grew—especially that of Ned Bucksmith. She was twice his size, being tall, buxom, and broad-shouldered.

She always wore a long, voluminous black dress with a little white lace collar and a pancake hat tied under her chin with ribbons.

Folks said it was the lace collar and ribbons that sent Ned Bucksmith over the edge. He and the other mine owners met in the back room of the K Saloon on Thursday evenings to drink whiskey and play cards, and he got them plotting against Big Bridget. One Thursday night a window was broken in the shack she used for an office. The next week a giant tree was felled across her access road. Next her night watchman put out a fire that could have burned down the office.

One Thursday morning Bridget was sitting at her roll-top desk when she heard a frantic banging on the door.

There on the doorstep was a young boy, out of breath from running. “Them men!” he gasped. “At the saloon. They be blowin’ up your mine!” Then he dashed away.

That evening Bridget went to the saloon in her tent-like black dress and pancake hat, carrying a shotgun. She barged in, knocked over a few chairs, and shouted, “Where are those dirty rats?” Customers hid under tables as she swept toward the back room. “Who’s gonna blow up my 쑽쑽쑽

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Short & Tall Tales mine?” she thundered and pointed the gun at Ned Bucksmith. He went out the window headfirst, and the other men piled out the back door. She followed them and unloaded a few warning shots.

There was no more trouble at the Big B. Now if you’re wondering about the youngster who tipped her off, he was Ned Bucksmith’s boy, and he had a crush on Bridget’s daughter. When they grew up, they were married, and that young boy became my grandfather.

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8.

The True (?) History

of Squunk Water

—According to Haley Babcock,

Retired Land Sur veyor

I met him in the bar at the Black Bear Café. Iwas waiting for a burger and sipping Squunkwater with a lemon twist; he was drinking itneat. He leaned over and said, “Good stuff

you’re drinkin’, mister. I been drinkin’ it all mylife, and I’m ninety.” I protested that he didn’tlook a day over seventy, and he showed hisdriver’s license for proof. “Yup! I were a tinytot when my grampa discovered Squunk water. . . .” Mr. Babcock wanted to talk, and Iput my tape recorder on the bar.

—JMQ

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Well, now, my grampa’s farm was all rocky pasture.