The cemeteries on the ranch have been all but forgotten in the intervening since the last person was laid to rest in 1920. While the fences were maintained, the identities and stories behind the individuals were lost for so many years. In reconstructing the ranch's history, I've been able to put together a few of the memories of their lives, and only wondered about so many others. Hours of research every day turned up the answer to a new mystery today!
In the Three Forks (or Gardner) cemetery, two small natural granite stones, uncarved and unmarked, sit at the eastern end, under an aspen tree. Some surmised they were two infants, or perhaps a headstone and foot stone. A newspaper article from 1915 might hold the key to this grave's identity, lost and forgotten for nearly 100 years:
Steamboat Pilot, July 28, 1915, page 8
RANCHER DROPS DEAD
John N. Lane Succumbs to Heart Disease in Lonely Cabin
Friday morning John N. Lane left his brother’s home at Three Forks to go to his cabin about a half a mile away. He seemingly was in good health and spirits. He was building a cabin on his homestead and his brother thought nothing of it when he did not return during the day.
In the evening the brother, Frank Lane, became worried and went to the cabin. His brother was lying face downward on the floor and had been dead for some time. Coroner Bashor and Dr. Kernaghan were called and pronounced the death due to neuralgia of the heart, from which he long had been a sufferer. Burial was at Three Forks Sunday.
# # # #
I wish there was a way to know for sure!
Friday, January 20, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Another example of a pioneer's fortitude
How strong must this man have been to survive this incident? He did later die of his injuries, but the fact he lived so long was remarkable. Also, how merciful is the human brain to prevent him from knowing the extent of his situation?
Steamboat Pilot, October 11, 1911, page 8
MAN FALLS INTO CAMPFIRE
NO HOPE FOR RECOVERY
Alex Dunn of Threeforks Country, Sensitive Regarding Afflication, Lies in Cabin Three Days Before He Reveals Horrible Burns to His Neighbors
(From Monday’s Daily.)
With his right arm burned to a crisp, his back and shoulders literally roasted, Alexander Dunn, a pioneer of the Threeforks country, lies in a bed at the Sheridan hotel, cheerful and ready to converse with those who enter the room. Knowing that in all probability he can live but two or three days at the most, Dunn is resigned to his fate and, with the greatest patience, awaits the Grim Reaper.
Dunn, who has lived alone in a little cabin in the Threeforks country, has been engaged in doing ditch work for an irrigation project, and during the cold weather last Monday built a fire to dry his clothes. He has long been subject to epileptic fits and it is surmised that he was stricken and fell into the fire. How long he lay there no one knows. He does not know, and being sensitive regarding his affliction, thinks that his clothes caught fire and burned his body before he could extinguish the flames, but from the manner in which the body is burned, Dunn undoubtedly fell into the fire, his arm falling right into the blaze and the back and side of his body was slowly cooked until he regained consciousness.
With his body burned so terribly that death would have resulted in nine cases out of ten, Dunn managed to get up from his perilous and painful position and walk to his cabin. In some manner known only to himself he undressed and got into bed. Tuesday afternoon, becoming alarmed at Dunn’s absence, a neighbor by the name of Durnham went to the Dunn cabin and there found the unfortunate man in bed. Dunn said nothing to Durnham about his condition and he went away feeling that Dunn was probably slightly indisposed and would be about in a day or two. The next afternoon Dunn got up from his bed and went to the Durnham home where he told his neighbors of his condition. Horrified at the man’s terrible burns and astonished that he could talk rationally, Durnham immediately went to a telephone and summoned Dr. L. G. Blackmer who was asked to drive with all speed and meet the party which was on the way to Steamboat.
Dr. Blackmer met the Durnham wagon at Columbine and dressed Dunn’s injuries, after which he was brought to Steamboat and is now being given every attention possible.
Dunn, who is between 45 and 50 years of age, has a married sister somewhere in Arizona and a brother in the Klondike country.
Hank Fravert, an old-time companion of Dunn, is in constant attendance upon the unfortunate man.
Dunn does not realize that most of his body is burned to a crisp, but he does know that he is in a critical condition.
Steamboat Pilot, October 11, 1911, page 8
MAN FALLS INTO CAMPFIRE
NO HOPE FOR RECOVERY
Alex Dunn of Threeforks Country, Sensitive Regarding Afflication, Lies in Cabin Three Days Before He Reveals Horrible Burns to His Neighbors
(From Monday’s Daily.)
With his right arm burned to a crisp, his back and shoulders literally roasted, Alexander Dunn, a pioneer of the Threeforks country, lies in a bed at the Sheridan hotel, cheerful and ready to converse with those who enter the room. Knowing that in all probability he can live but two or three days at the most, Dunn is resigned to his fate and, with the greatest patience, awaits the Grim Reaper.
Dunn, who has lived alone in a little cabin in the Threeforks country, has been engaged in doing ditch work for an irrigation project, and during the cold weather last Monday built a fire to dry his clothes. He has long been subject to epileptic fits and it is surmised that he was stricken and fell into the fire. How long he lay there no one knows. He does not know, and being sensitive regarding his affliction, thinks that his clothes caught fire and burned his body before he could extinguish the flames, but from the manner in which the body is burned, Dunn undoubtedly fell into the fire, his arm falling right into the blaze and the back and side of his body was slowly cooked until he regained consciousness.
With his body burned so terribly that death would have resulted in nine cases out of ten, Dunn managed to get up from his perilous and painful position and walk to his cabin. In some manner known only to himself he undressed and got into bed. Tuesday afternoon, becoming alarmed at Dunn’s absence, a neighbor by the name of Durnham went to the Dunn cabin and there found the unfortunate man in bed. Dunn said nothing to Durnham about his condition and he went away feeling that Dunn was probably slightly indisposed and would be about in a day or two. The next afternoon Dunn got up from his bed and went to the Durnham home where he told his neighbors of his condition. Horrified at the man’s terrible burns and astonished that he could talk rationally, Durnham immediately went to a telephone and summoned Dr. L. G. Blackmer who was asked to drive with all speed and meet the party which was on the way to Steamboat.
Dr. Blackmer met the Durnham wagon at Columbine and dressed Dunn’s injuries, after which he was brought to Steamboat and is now being given every attention possible.
Dunn, who is between 45 and 50 years of age, has a married sister somewhere in Arizona and a brother in the Klondike country.
Hank Fravert, an old-time companion of Dunn, is in constant attendance upon the unfortunate man.
Dunn does not realize that most of his body is burned to a crisp, but he does know that he is in a critical condition.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Since we have no snow...
Here's a poem written by cowhand John Gill in 1939, right here on my ranch. It's called, "Winter on the Little Snake."
We were crowded in the bunkhouse,
Not a soul did dare to sleep,
Twas midnight up at Three Forks,
And the snow was six feet deep.
It's a terrible thing in that land,
To be caught in such a storm,
You're forty miles from nowhere,
And no way to give alarm.
When the storm was over,
And the sun began to shine,
We scooped the snow off the cattle,
And they were looking fine.
We lifted our arms to Heaven,
Said, "Thank God for just one thing,
Today's the Fourth of July,
It can't be long 'til spring!"
We were crowded in the bunkhouse,
Not a soul did dare to sleep,
Twas midnight up at Three Forks,
And the snow was six feet deep.
It's a terrible thing in that land,
To be caught in such a storm,
You're forty miles from nowhere,
And no way to give alarm.
When the storm was over,
And the sun began to shine,
We scooped the snow off the cattle,
And they were looking fine.
We lifted our arms to Heaven,
Said, "Thank God for just one thing,
Today's the Fourth of July,
It can't be long 'til spring!"
Friday, December 30, 2011
Steamboat Pilot, 1910: Jap Killed Yesterday at Rock Creek Canon [sic]
While working at the slide on the Moffat road in Rock creek canon, caused by the breaking of the irrigation ditch that conveys the water of Rock creek into the Crater country, a Japanese laborer by the name of J. Shockichi Kobayaski, and recently from Ken, Japan, was struck by a falling rock and with great force was knocked against the truss of a flat car, tearing the right side of his head completely off, causing instant death. His brains were scattered for a distance of 20 feet.
The accident occurred at 7:45 yesterday morning and the body, after being placed on the wrecking train, was removed to Yampa in charge of the officials and his countrymen. The accident scared his fellow employes [sic] to such an extent that 34 out of 45 of the men working on the slide, quit the job.
There is probability of entanglements in this case with the railroad company, as the coroner of the county in which a death occurs must sign the death certificate, and Coroner Bashor was not informed of the accident until after the body had been taken to Denver on the Moffat train.
As far as is known, Kobayaski, who was 21 years of age, had no relatives in this country. He will be buried in Denver.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Newspapers had such a different way of putting things-- including such gruesome details as how far his brains were spread from the impact. One more poor young man killed in the way of progress-- the west is full of such graves, unknown or barely remembered. Do you think his fellow workers knew his family, and were able to tell them what happened? Do you think that he still lies in Denver today, or that his family came and moved his body to Japan, like so many Chinese burials were moved? This story brings to mind our own Charlie Corless, who lies buried on the hill, dead at 19. His story is unknown, and aside from the kindness of his neighbors, who bought a beautiful granite stone to mark his burial, who remembered him at his death? Who notified his family, who found him lifeless? I wish I could bring the dead back to life to answer all the questions I have for them.
The accident occurred at 7:45 yesterday morning and the body, after being placed on the wrecking train, was removed to Yampa in charge of the officials and his countrymen. The accident scared his fellow employes [sic] to such an extent that 34 out of 45 of the men working on the slide, quit the job.
There is probability of entanglements in this case with the railroad company, as the coroner of the county in which a death occurs must sign the death certificate, and Coroner Bashor was not informed of the accident until after the body had been taken to Denver on the Moffat train.
As far as is known, Kobayaski, who was 21 years of age, had no relatives in this country. He will be buried in Denver.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Newspapers had such a different way of putting things-- including such gruesome details as how far his brains were spread from the impact. One more poor young man killed in the way of progress-- the west is full of such graves, unknown or barely remembered. Do you think his fellow workers knew his family, and were able to tell them what happened? Do you think that he still lies in Denver today, or that his family came and moved his body to Japan, like so many Chinese burials were moved? This story brings to mind our own Charlie Corless, who lies buried on the hill, dead at 19. His story is unknown, and aside from the kindness of his neighbors, who bought a beautiful granite stone to mark his burial, who remembered him at his death? Who notified his family, who found him lifeless? I wish I could bring the dead back to life to answer all the questions I have for them.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Talk about run-on sentences...
This entire newspaper article is made up of two sentences. The first one is especially startling in its length. Newspaper journalism was quite a bit different from what is practiced today...
From the Snake River Sentinel of December 1, 1911:
“W. P. BLACKMORE
“Manager of the famous Pioneer Sheep Herds
“Mr. Blackmore a descendant of that sturdy class of English people who have made history in every clime and country of the world, has followed the precepts of his ancestors, and made for himself and family, a name on the river which implies success and strength of character, although less given to public enterprises in his own community than is shown by his brothers in like industries and circumstances, his citizenship with its example of thriftiness and superb management is nevertheless of the greatest benefit and well worth of emulation.
“The Pioneer Sheep Co. is one of the best equipped and one of the strongest outfits on the range today, of which Mr. Blackmore is a stockholder as well as manager and with the untiring assistance of his brother Arthur, they constitute an organization entirely harmonious and prosperous.”
The Blackmores were a wealthy English family who settled on my ranch probably in the 1890s. They may have been the first home where the Lodge sits today, which was later owned by E. Turner and then by the Charles Honnald family. Unlike most English who settled in the valley, the Blackmores appeared to be well-liked. They moved west and headquartered at Battle Creek for a time, and then may have moved further west. Some Blackmores ran a stage line between Rawlins and Baggs, Wyoming, but it is only my best guess that the family is one and the same.
From the Snake River Sentinel of December 1, 1911:
“W. P. BLACKMORE
“Manager of the famous Pioneer Sheep Herds
“Mr. Blackmore a descendant of that sturdy class of English people who have made history in every clime and country of the world, has followed the precepts of his ancestors, and made for himself and family, a name on the river which implies success and strength of character, although less given to public enterprises in his own community than is shown by his brothers in like industries and circumstances, his citizenship with its example of thriftiness and superb management is nevertheless of the greatest benefit and well worth of emulation.
“The Pioneer Sheep Co. is one of the best equipped and one of the strongest outfits on the range today, of which Mr. Blackmore is a stockholder as well as manager and with the untiring assistance of his brother Arthur, they constitute an organization entirely harmonious and prosperous.”
The Blackmores were a wealthy English family who settled on my ranch probably in the 1890s. They may have been the first home where the Lodge sits today, which was later owned by E. Turner and then by the Charles Honnald family. Unlike most English who settled in the valley, the Blackmores appeared to be well-liked. They moved west and headquartered at Battle Creek for a time, and then may have moved further west. Some Blackmores ran a stage line between Rawlins and Baggs, Wyoming, but it is only my best guess that the family is one and the same.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
It was negative 13 this morning, and I think I had it bad... at least I'm not a stage driver.
“The winter and spring break-ups were the most trying times for stage driving. At thos [sic] times it was humorously said that the first class passengers rode, the second class passengers walked and the third class carried poles to pry the vehicle out of the mud. During these trying times of the year it was not unusual for the stage company to keep seventy-five to eighty head of horses ready for use at the various stations, and at one time Whipple and Shaw had one hundred head of horses ready for service.
"The arrival of the stage coach was an event of importance in the early days and the stage driver himself was a man of importance. Perhaps he was not so great a man in the early buckboard days as he was a little later when he was conductor of a big Concord coach and could ‘pull the ribbons over six’ as he whirled through the valleys and over the hills. In the winter a big sleigh was used unless severe storms made a ‘single bob' advisable until the roads could be broken. Stage drivers did the shopping for scores of ranchmen and their wives and accommodated everybody. Many of these isolated settlers could not get to town and they would send by the driver for their tobacco and calico and about everything else they required. Drivers have been known to come into town with orders for the purchase of a score of articles on a single trip. Their good graces were sought by merchants and also by hotel owners for their favor meant lots of trade.
“In the spring the trails would begin to thaw out or break up, teams could travel only after night when trails were frozen. Forty years ago when a half dozen of the railroads of the state were blockaded from two weeks to as many months the Steamboat-Wolcott stage made it thru every day. If a stage did not arrive on time another team would be sent out. There were times when nine stage outfits were on the road at the same time, each trying to reach the other and carry the mail a little farther toward its destination. There was one time in a spring break-up when three men with a fresh team were four hours going half a mile. All stretches of road where drifts were likely, particularly those toward Hahns Peak, were staked with willows to enable team and driver to follow the road. Snow teams became so expert that according to stage drivers ‘they could walk on a clothes line.’” (Leckenby 58-60)
"The arrival of the stage coach was an event of importance in the early days and the stage driver himself was a man of importance. Perhaps he was not so great a man in the early buckboard days as he was a little later when he was conductor of a big Concord coach and could ‘pull the ribbons over six’ as he whirled through the valleys and over the hills. In the winter a big sleigh was used unless severe storms made a ‘single bob' advisable until the roads could be broken. Stage drivers did the shopping for scores of ranchmen and their wives and accommodated everybody. Many of these isolated settlers could not get to town and they would send by the driver for their tobacco and calico and about everything else they required. Drivers have been known to come into town with orders for the purchase of a score of articles on a single trip. Their good graces were sought by merchants and also by hotel owners for their favor meant lots of trade.
“In the spring the trails would begin to thaw out or break up, teams could travel only after night when trails were frozen. Forty years ago when a half dozen of the railroads of the state were blockaded from two weeks to as many months the Steamboat-Wolcott stage made it thru every day. If a stage did not arrive on time another team would be sent out. There were times when nine stage outfits were on the road at the same time, each trying to reach the other and carry the mail a little farther toward its destination. There was one time in a spring break-up when three men with a fresh team were four hours going half a mile. All stretches of road where drifts were likely, particularly those toward Hahns Peak, were staked with willows to enable team and driver to follow the road. Snow teams became so expert that according to stage drivers ‘they could walk on a clothes line.’” (Leckenby 58-60)
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