1We Move to Carlsbad
The distance from Goldthwaite, Texas, to Carlsbad, New Mexico, is slightly less than 400 miles—just a good day's drive in an automobile today. But in 1901 the automobile was something we heard about—something we read about, and friends of mine told of having seen a horseless carriage up in Dallas. People who did much traveling went by train or horse and wagon—or, they walked.
So when our family talked of moving West—talked of trying life anew "somewhere else," the question of how to go was considered. Train fare, we soon found, was much too high for us at the time. And with all our worldly possessions the freight charges would be excessive.
The answer—a covered wagon.
It was hard for my mother to leave Goldthwaite, and my wife was a bit fearful of the future in a strange land, but father and I thought our future was brighter if we tried anew somewhere else.
Besides my cousin, there were my two children, which completed our party of seven. Heading West over the vast expanse of open Texas prairie, I felt something of the thrill those early pioneers must have felt, although the fear of trouble was not present, for being ambushed by Indians was a remote possibility.
Just the same, there was an air of adventure in the journey, for none of us knew what the future held in store for us. We dreamed and hoped.
We completed our journey to Carlsbad, a distance of almost 400 miles, without any serious mishap. Oh, there were the usual little troubles of a sick horse which slowed us up one day, and an occasional steep hill which required we not only get out of the wagon to lighten it, but all help push as well.
Carlsbad had a population of less than a thousand in 1901,[B]and although Carlsbad was the legal name, having been officially changed two years before, everyone called the town by its original name, Eddy, and it was, and still is, the county seat of Eddy County.
[B]Population in 1950, 18,000.
[B]Population in 1950, 18,000.
The primary activity in and around Carlsbad in those days was ranching, with a growing interest in mining of various kinds. I noticed many people continually coming and going and thought that, since I would have to get busy at something pretty soon, I would try the hotel business.
So, shortly after my arrival, I took over the Schlitz Hotel, which was located near the railroad station at the corner of Canyon Street and Mermod Avenue. The hotel boasted a dining room, and a large part of the business came from many of the railroad workers, who, it seemed, always had a good appetite and who liked good food and lots of it.
That wasn't the only trouble I had, and after a few months I found I didn't know enough about the hotel business to make a go of it, so I gave it up. The name of the hotel was later changed to Bates, and some time after that it caught fire and burned to the ground.
The saloon business in those days was always good. Ranchers and miners would come into town after a rugged week in the hills and spend much of their pay for liquor. It looked to me as though this would be a profitable enterprise and I decided to give it a try.
My wife didn't like the idea at all and told me so in no uncertain terms. However, I kept at it for a while in spite of her pleas.
One day I took my small son down to the saloon to show him off to the boys. That did it. That was the abrupt end to my venture inthe saloon business. My wife set up such a howl that in order to keep peace in the family I decided to give up the saloon. Her opinion was always best for the family anyway, and of course I was aware of the fact that this was not the most desirable environment in which to raise children.
So, what next? I had by this time acquired a few mules and thought I might be able to use them in some way. I learned that the Joyce Pruitt Company of Carlsbad was expanding its operations and was in need of additional help in doing some freighting.
I made a deal with them to do the necessary hauling and soon was quite busy.
One of the biggest of my expenses was for food for the teams, and I was anxious to cut down the feed bill as much as possible. As a result, at the end of each day I would take the mules out to pasture and let them rest and graze.
At this particular time I had the teams grazing near a place known as Donahue Springs, now known as Oak Creek Springs. Water from the springs was a necessity for the mules, and we used the water ourselves, as well.
While the mules were grazing there wasn't much for me to do and I used to explore the countryside wondering what else might lie in the vicinity. Others came to Donahue Springs for water since in that arid country water was not as plentiful as we wished it might be.
One day a man by the name of Sam Evans and a Mr. Brown and myself were exploring the countryside just to see what we might discover in the area. Hunters and miners in that section were always telling of some unusual find and anyone who went out of town kept their eyes open in search of something that might turn out to be valuable.
I suppose that is why Brown, Evans and myself were searching—just looking around to see what we might uncover.
At one spot there appeared to be a hole or cavity in the ground and I called to my buddies, "Hey, come over here. There seems to be a hole in the earth."
In that rugged country a hole in the ground isn't exactly unusual, but this one seemed to lead to quite a large empty space beneath it, and the tone of my voice must have told the others it was not just an ordinary hole, because they both came over to where I was right away.
"What do you make of this?" I asked as they both gave the hole an appraising glance. The three of us were puzzled because it wasn't just a hole in the earth, but rather seemed to be the opening to a large cavity underneath.
"What do you suppose this is?" I asked again.
"Any large animals around here that might have dug it?" queried Brown.
"Possible," I reflected. "Let's have a look."
I was eager to go below and learn more about this mysterious opening in the earth, but it didn't seem to me that Evans or Brown shared my curiosity. We looked for animal tracks in the vicinity, but couldn't find any.
"Who'll go in with me?" I received no response. It didn't matter. By now I was so curious that I decided I would go in alone, if necessary.
I went to my wagon and got a lantern and a ball of large fishing line. Then I picked up all the rope I had, including the rope I used with my mules, and hurriedly went back to the mysterious hole.
I'll admit I was quite excited, and by now Evans and Brown were, too, although it seemed to me they tried to hide their enthusiasm. Perhaps they were just a bit afraid of what might be down there in that strange cavity, yet didn't want to let on that that was so.
I, too, decided to play it safe, so I took the lantern and tied it on to the end of the rope and lowered it into the hole. All three of us bent over the opening and looked in to see what we could see.
As the light of the lantern showed on the sides and bottom of the hole I could see that it was a large one. I particularly wanted to see if there was any damp in the cavity, but the light didn't reveal any.
By this time I was eager to go below and explore our discovery. "Who'll go with me?" I asked. No response.
"Well, then I'll go alone," I declared.
And with that I fastened the rope around my waist, made sure it was securely fastened to the ground a few feet outside the opening, and got ready to go below.