Southwest Sierra — #54

The Golden Lion … continued from last week. While the bunkhouse job was being started, a small crew of miners began collaring a new portal next to the caved in Cincinnati Tunnel. Allen Power incorporated the Golden Lion Mining Corporation and named the new tunnel “The Golden Lion Mine.”

My timeline is fuzzy as to exactly when we moved into the bunkhouse, but the year must have been 1978. When the motley construction crew left, the sheet rock and fiber board interior wasn’t all taped and puttied, but we had electricity, and the place was well insulated. There was no telephone. We had a CB radio for emergency communication, kept on the Sheriff Office channel. We were all instructed on how to use the CB, but Dad was the only one who had his own handle, “Dustpan”.

A tall barrel shaped woodstove had been installed in the main downstairs room. The barrel was positioned vertically with the opening on top. That stove really put out the heat! DBJ remembers that we put in 12 cords of firewood every year. We never ran out and usually had some left over come summer. The first winter we didn’t have a woodshed, but Dad built a large woodshed attached to the north end of the bunkhouse the following year.

When we moved in, most of our belongings were piled into one of the upstairs bedrooms while we did our best to tape and sand the remaining sheet rock and fiber board ourselves (Mom and kids while Dad was at work). The fiber board was especially difficult to tape. We unknowingly did a shoddy job, called it good and proceeded to paint the entire interior.

The last spanking that I ever got was for getting into the boxes of stuff in the upstairs bedroom. I was so embarrassed when Mom actually got out the wooden spoon and smacked my butt! (This was after three or four warnings to stay out of the boxes.) I hadn’t been spanked in years and the humiliation was much worse than the nominal physical pain.

Once the interior of the house was finished, the spare bedrooms were made available to miners. Different miners lived with us from time-to-time. Allen Power also spent a considerable amount of time staying in his room, which he painted bright yellow.

The mine inspector for OSHA at that time was a man named Charlie Schultz. He was a small, older man with a German accent. He wore thick glasses and had a large nose. He visited the mine on a regular basis for “inspections”. Mom made the best chocolate cookies and was known for her excellent coffee as well. Charlie was always invited in for coffee and cookies. There, at the kitchen table, he and Dad went over the condition of the mine. The word “citation” wasn’t even in the lexicon of the time. He wasn’t there for that. I think that he spent more time in our kitchen than underground. This seemed to please everyone, including Charlie who was so funny! He always made us laugh! This was one exception to my avoidance of “mining talk”. I always came and sat at the table when Charlie was there.

Our kitchen table was open to whoever showed up to eat. Mom loved to cook and made a huge, delicious dinner most evenings. During the winter, the mine was shut down and we had the place to ourselves. Not just the house, but the entire area. A winter wonderland.

I’ll always remember the first time that Grandma and Grandpa Bell came to visit us at the bunkhouse. As he came in the door, Grandpa took one look at the walls and shouted: “This place looks like hell!” It took us a moment to realize that he was referring to our tape job. We didn’t take insult, we just laughed. The place was clean and cozy and warm, and we were happy with it.

About the author: Rae Bell (aka Pauline) grew up in the Ruby Mine area. She currently resides in Alleghany proper and can be reached at raebell44@gmail.com or PO Box 919, Alleghany, CA 95910.