Century of Butte Stories

End of the Mules in the Mines

By John Astle

(A column featuring stories from Butte's newspapers during the past 100 years).

Shortly after the creation of the Montana Power Company in 1912, the Anaconda Company began to electrify most of the railway spur lines and underground hauling system of the Butte mines.

By 1915, electric-driven cars to haul ore from the drifts, stopes, and crosscuts were beginning to take the place of mules, who were soon to be gone forever from the mines in Butte. The approaching end of an era spawned numerous "yarns" among muleskinners, miners, and shift bosses.

Mules, according to the skinners and miners who knew them well, were "sociable fellows," but there was a limit to their sociability. The mule chose his friends, and remembered well those miners who played tricks on him.

Some developed a more treacherous disposition and were never to be trusted. One big, black mule known as Dynamite was so mean that no foreman would have him. He was transferred from one mine to another and finally was given his pink slip by a Company boss.

An "old timer" mule, whose service was mainly on 2,200-foot level of the Diamond mine, was another example of a sociable mule. He seemed to love company and the "rough caresses" the miners would give him. Other mules showed fondness for their drivers but would not allow anyone else to come near them without the driver's word of sharp command.

The Diamond mine was the home of the mules and this was where many of them put in their first shifts before being transferred to other mines. At one time there were 46 mules employed in the Diamond alone.

One time a bunch of Diamond mine "graduates" were sent to Foreman John Peters of the Poulin mine and were put to work on the 400 and 1000-foot levels. Among them were three noted individuals known as 'Bull,' 'Kate,' and 'Babe.'

Bull was a habitual user of tobacco, while his mate, Kate, never touched the stuff. However, she had a reputation as a "kicker," that was known in every mine in Butte. She was a kicker for cause, and a kicker without cause, just a chronic kicker.

Every time they built a stall for her, she would kick it to pieces. She would stand on the toes of her front feet and kick out every electric light in her stable that wasn't hung more than ten feet above the ground.

No blacksmith would shoe Kate unless she was hog-tied, thrown, and strapped down. But, as soon as she was released, she would try to kick off the shoes. Sometimes she was successful, and the whole operation would have to be repeated. The miners named her hind feet, "Sudden Death," and "Six Months in the Hospital," respectively.

Babe was the pet of all the miners on the 1,000-foot level of the Poulin mine. She enjoyed the distinction of being the only female mule who chewed tobacco. As a rule the females were not addicted to the habit, but the Babe' seemed to revel in the taste and smell of the weed. If she had an idle moment and saw a miner enjoying his noontime pipe, she made a beeline for him and stood near the thick smoke and inhaled the cloud with apparent satisfaction.

Babe was given many privileges because of her intelligence and willingness to work. She was not hampered by a bridle or a rein, but went from one end of the drift to the other when called. She would take her place in front of a string of ore cars and haul them to any spot where she was told to stop. Babe's limit was four cars and she would protest with looks and groans if more than four were hitched to her string of cars.

Another famous mule in the Butte mines was ‘Sharkey,’ who was named after Tom Sharkey the heavyweight boxer who fought from 1893 to 1904. 'Sharkey' was a thief and didn't have the grace to be ashamed of it. He knew where the miner's lunch buckets were kept and he would sneak off from work and nose around the row of lunch pails. More often than not he would succeed in getting the top off a bucket and eat the lunch. The victim would give him a beating, but to no avail. He would be back at it the next day.

The most noteworthy mark of intelligence by Sharkey was his knowledge of the switches along the track on his level. Many times he would stop at a switch that was not perfectly set and refuse to budge until it had been placed in the proper position. Whether he did this as a sense of duty to the Company or to avoid unnecessary work for himself, no one knew.

By 1915, when the electric ore cars were use in the mines, Sharkey had gone to mule heaven, where many of his fellows had gone by the hundreds. Only a few were left, just a few of the old guard that marked the passing of the mules in the mines from the Butte district forever.

C