“Thy name is ominous to children.”
The setting for Cook Town was serene, that is... it was, before the mine works started up. Now, the enclosed canyon was stripped of vegetation and wildlife. Round the clock a noxious stream belched from the mill stack, to which was added the smoke and soot of countless cooking fires.
The townsite was at the end of an enclosed canyon, on a rare flat spot. The entire area covering no more than one square mile. In the pre-dawn hours Roosters crowed, fires crackled and the sound of two hundred or so men rousing from their sleep drifted along the denuded canyon walls. Coughing, hacking and spitting, they slowly came to life.
All the active mines were within walking distance. The men working the night shift would straggle in, as the day shift would head out. Their lanterns and lamps formed opposing trails of light as they worked their way to and from the Contention/American Group of mines, the busiest and most productive.
Given the proximity of most dwellings to the mines, mills and the toxic poisons they produced. Cook Town was no place for children. The milling process produced large tailing dumps, all which gave off a fine sulfurous dust. The run-off had tainted the water table, the level of lead in the aquifer was dangerously high. Yet, town folk scooped it from the community wells, using the water to boil coffee, cook and most ominously to prepare baby bottles.
In 1896 about eight years after Cook Town had been established, a concerned group of residents had approached J.H. Pennybacker, one of the mine managers for The Contention/American Group with their concerns. The infant mortality rate was astronomical. Every week more men, women and children fell ill. Pennybacker, a steadfast man, listened to their voices and promised to deliver the message to the board members.
At the next scheduled board meeting, true to his word Pennybacker raised the issue of conditions at Cook Town. J.A. Mahoney, "The Old Man" President of the Board, responded "Cook Town is not a company town, and we are under no obligation legal or otherwise to address these concerns." Pennybacker started to speak, but The Old Man loudly cut him off "God Damn it!, this is not a concern of the board" Mahoney rose to his feet "This is not a matter of business for Contention, American or any other group represented at this table." His stare burned into Pennybacker "Report to me only that business that concerns us as businessmen" The Old Man was emphatic "You're done with this, Joseph, I'll not hear of this again!"
The dressing down left Pennybacker flushed with anger. Upon his return to Cook Town, he informed the residents that they would never put him in that position again. In 1906 as production petered out and the mining companies started to divest their Cooke Canyon holdings, J.H. Pennybacker was unceremoniously sacked. He packed up his belonging and arranged an automobile ride to the train stop at Nutt. When they got to the Cooke Cemetery, Pennybacker asked the driver to stop. Standing in the shadow of Cooke's Peak, he produced a pistol from his coat pocket and took his own life. Thus, adding his name to the roster of Cook Town suicides.
The Fabricated Narrative of a Cook Town Survivor
The summer of 1899 was hot, the heat within the canyon was stifling, breezes were rare and heavy with the choking devil's mist spewed from the mill. Children were falling ill, "Summer Malady" the visiting doctor from Deming called it. Two young brothers ages 12 and 10 fell victim to it. The men weren't immune, tempers flared, blood boiled and often simple disagreements would end in bouts of brutal violence. That summer there were two murders, one a miner and the the other a teamster. A pair of suicides followed, one a well liked widow who would wash and cook for the miners. Something was terribly wrong within our community, a dark sinister force was stalking us.
Once a month, Father would load a wagon with goods and we would travel the winding road through Montezuma Canyon to the mining camp of Jose. The Mexican miners lived there, they weren't allowed to live in Cook Town. Jose drew its water from a different source, the people living there seemed happy and alive, the little kids ran around chasing hoops and lizards. On the way back, Father read my thoughts "It's the water" he said, "Huh" I was caught off guard, "It's the water and the air, that's killing everyone" I nodded my head in agreement, although I didn't understand "This is not a place meant for life anymore, I need to get you and your brother out of here." I had never heard Father talk about leaving Cook Town before.
"He was our source of light, our lives revolved around him"
Brother was four years old now, and he always had a twinkle in his blue eyes, his giggles would fill the air like so many soap bubbles. He was a happy boy, who would hook his thumbs on his bib overalls, mimicking the miners. Mother doted over him with great pride, the tired and weary men of the camp who frequented our modest store would light up at sight of him. He was a fine lad and he was with us for such a short time.
It just after New Year in 1900, when I saw the first sign of Brother's impending fate. We had trotted down the road to the corral. Brother liked the animals, on the way back he was listless, without a sound he put both his arms out for me to carry him. The look on Mother's face when I carried him home was one I would never forget. She tucked him into bed, the next morning he awoke, Mother tried to feed him, but he was too fussy. I comforted him, looking into his eyes.. the twinkle was gone, it was as if his life force was being extinguished. I knew then that I would never see him grow to be a man.
A doctor was called for, but we received word that it would be days before he could make the journey. It was the scourge of mining camps: influenza, an 8 year old girl had succumbed the day after William fell ill. A pall of gloom and sadness settled in, a group of miners milled around the store holding a vigil. Brother held on for four days, fevered and gasping for oxygen. Mother and I sat by his bedside as he took his last breath, and I swear to you, as I swear to God, we saw his soul ascend to heaven.
Word spread fast, a group of miners in a horse drawn wagon came by the store, they offered to dig the grave. The Cooke Cemetery was located two miles away on a flat spot parallel to Hadley Draw. It was unforgiving soil, with every swing of the pick striking rock. My father and I went out to take the men food and drinks that afternoon "It'll be ready come morning" one miner informed him. By now we were beyond sorrow, the finality of Brother's demise had settled in. One at a time the beautiful things in our lives were being taken from us. The songbirds, butterflies, wild flowers and children, all harvested by the relentless machinery of greed fueled by the desire for gold and silver.
Brother was dressed and laid into his casket, which was carried out and placed in a small wagon drawn by a single horse. The procession started out, as we passed through the camp more mourners fell in step. Watching the proceedings from the Desdemona Mine, a manager remarked, "Well! we won't get any work done today" The sad parade of people continued to grow in number, stretching out along the canyon road for almost a mile. No one spoke, the only sound was the shuffling of feet and the creaking wheels of a few odd wagons.
At the gravesite, a disheveled miner named Cappy came forth with a eulogy, an act he had performed three times for the children of Cook Town. "The memory of this child is the only treasure that endures" he started, the large gathering pulled in closer "Tomorrow will fall again, but he whom we carry to the grave will never more return" Cappy bowed his head "On and on... down the long road, we move away from you dear child, though one day we shall join you, reunited in heaven" Cappy rubbed his hands across the top of the coffin "William Joseph you are now in the hands of our father, peace be with you... Amen"
As we started back to camp, I made a vow. No matter how short and insignificant his life may have been, he would never be forgotten. I would carry his memory in my heart, I would pass on his name to my children and their children. For his sake and for the sake of those buried and forgotten in that forsaken canyon.
Mother and Father clung on to Cook Town long after the mines played out and everyone else had moved on. A sister was born, she survived to adulthood as did I. Slowly the mining infrastructure was dismantled and trucked away. The canyon started to heal itself, though the ugly industrial scars would always remain. The songbirds returned and wild flowers and butterflies once again filled the meadow. It's said by some that on occasion you'll find my Brother chasing after them.
Footnotes
*The Grovers were merchants at Cook Town, besides Wm. Joseph they had two daughters.
*The 1930 census of Luna County, shows them still living there, which by then had fewer than a dozen residents.
**The young boy's family never did forget him. His is the only grave at The Cooke Cemetery that has a headstone and flowers.
** Shamefully the cemetery has been desecrated, cattle have free range there and have trampled the area, though the outlined graves are clearly visible to those who know the place.
** Cappy's eulogy is taken in part from Chinese Poems: Seventeen Old Poems
*** The Canyon, which extends for well over 20 miles, north to south, is called Cooke Canyon, the prominent granite monolith that overlooks the park is Cooke's Peak.
*** It was while referring only to the townsite that the spelling of Cook or Cook's was used.
