Old Missoula

Other Days By John Toole

In 1934, I worked for the Douglas Creek Mining Syndicate, a gold mine near Garnet. It is in remote country, inaccessible by car. To get there you had to take a truck to the head of Deep Creek, known as the “Top O’ Deep,” then switch to horses and descend the mountain to Douglas Creek.

In the general enthusiasm for gold mining in that year, there was much “claim jumping.” The mines were on the public domain, and whoever filed a claim and performed $100 worth of work, became the owner of the mine. Miners, therefore, maintained an armed guard at their mines to watch for the “jumpers.”

In the winter, supplying the guard at the Douglas Creek mine was a Herculean task. Sledges were loaded with groceries at Old Beartown, and handpulled by men on snowshoes a distance of 11 miles.

On one such trip, after the men had arrived at Douglas, they started to argue over the location of a proposed stovepipe. Dick Herzer, the ramrod of the outfit, always carried a pistol. Weary of the argument, Herzer, pulled out his pistol, shot a hole through the ceilings, and said: “Put her there.” Thus ended that dispute.

In the spring of 1934 the Douglas Creek Miners were high on enthusiasm but low on capital. They rented an old dragline. It was not on tracks, and had to be laboriously winched to the diggings by hooking a steel cable around a tree ahead of it. They rented a team of horses, a wagon and two burros. The wagon had to be “roughlocked” (chains tied around the wheels) as it descended the mountain into Douglas.

I was in charge of the burros. These burros wouldn’t lead like a horse. The had to be driven like a team. They were great going downhill. One day I dropped the lines on the way down, and the burros started to run. I couldn’t catch them. All down the trail was scattered the precious paraphernalia of the camp – nails, broken jars of fruit, shoes and canned goods. Boss Herzer was rough on me when I got into camp.

A Model A Ford pickup could make it all the way to the “Top O’ Deep.” I had a Model T, and it couldn’t make it because it had a gravity gas feed. But I could back it up. Backing up that narrow, perilous grade in a Model T Ford gives me the shivers to this day.

One of my jobs was hauling fuel for the dragline. You siphoned the gas out of one of the containers in the pickup by putting one end of a rubber tube in your mouth and sucking vigorously. When you got a mouthful you plunged the end of the tube into a five-gallon can. You always managed to swallow a little gas. The two burros could haul 40 gallons.

About August 1, the syndicate ran out of money. By that time Herzer had left in disgust. Brice Toole was boss. He got the ten men together, saying, “Well, boys, we’re out of money. You can stay here and work for your board and room. If we hit gold before winter, you’ll be paid your rate of $1.50 per day. If you don’t like the plan, you might as well quit now.”

Not a man quit. There were no jobs outside anyway. Not a man received a nickel more. The total in gold taken from Douglas that year was $1,600.00.

The above article appeared in The Sunday Missoulian on January 4, 1976.

John Toole wrote about his experiences in Douglas Creek in his book “The Baron, the Logger, the Miner, and Me.”

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