It is ironic that the Murnane/Marnane child who had the shortest life is perhaps the most well understood.
Maurice, tenth of the twelve children, lived only to the age of 24. While his brothers and sisters remained either in Ireland or emigrated to the Chicago area in the United States, Maurice lived his final years apart from his family, in the dry climate of the southwestern United States, a climate he hoped would save him.
Maurice apparently moved from Ireland to the Chicago area, but then moved to Phoenix were he stayed for at least five months, hopeful that the Southwest climate would assist in his fight against tuberculosis. He found a job with a train camp and moved to Texas in April of 1902. His illness may have been in remission for awhile.
But recovery was not to be and on October 13, just six months after moving to the Texas-New Mexico-Arizona border area, Maurice died.
But he left a wealth of information about himself, and about his family, in a letter sent to his younger brother, Jim, who was still back in Cappauniac in 1902. The free -- and undoubtedly lonely and painful -- time Maurice had in the Southwest allowed him to write freely, and he did so. His letter to Jim was written over a period of weeks. It reflects hope and frustration and will remain one of the valued heirlooms of the Murnane family.
It is printed here in its entirety. Some editing has been done, but only to correct some misspellings or to improve punctuation. Major editing has not been done. Some readers have expressed amazement that a 24-year-old from an Irish farm could write so well.
Railroad Camp (Toohey's No.2)
Near El Paso, Texas USA
April 23rd, 1902
(2 o'c. P.M. Heat 100 degrees)
My Dear Jem,
I have just received your letter from a work train which stops here to deliver goods to this camp. It was forwarded from Phoenix. As it is too hot to exert myself to write up accounts here, I will start to write you a history, so here goes it. All you wrote regarding the various individuals in around or about home I have carefully noted. I am glad to see that Earl of Toureen is able to get out of bed. The world was going on too damn well for him. It's right that he should taste some of the bitter pills of life.
Give him, Aunt Biddy and Mary my regards. I note what you say as regards Will Burke. As regards his chances of getting the new Creamery Managership, your sentiments are mine. I am glad to see that Bro Mick is getting along so well. I hope he will continue so.
I was indeed glad to find that poor father was still in the land of the living. I hope that he will live for many a day to come. I was glad to see that mother was keeping good and that you, Mat and Ellie were pulling along as of old, although not having met with any amount of health, wealth and prosperity.
But I guess you are all getting used to hard knocks. People will say, "I hope I will not meet with bad luck." That is a saying contrary to how things generally turn out. In my opinion, it should be, "Be always prepared for bad luck, but hope you'll meet with good luck."
So Browls is coming to this country and his sister Maggie. What is hope coming to? Will the little boys and girls now attending Tankerstown, Ballycarron and Ballydrehid schools administer the laws of the country better than the old guard, drink as much of Kevil's beer, make old Toureen Cross shake with as much devilment, shake, push, tease, curse, get into close quarters , and black guard the girls as much?
Oh my country! What future is in store for you? Are your lovely valleys, your cross roads, your farmers' houses after a day's threshing, to hear no more the untrained voices of your farmers' son as he shouts out a "come-all-ye," or will you shake no more under his feet, as he dances a set with a Tom Brett gait.
People may talk of this progressive age, may contend that the people are getting more civilized. Are you my birth place -- are you old Kilmoyler benefited by this progress?
My belief is you are not. You would be better, happier, and more prosperous if your little church was filled with more robust swains and more buxom blue eyed maidens.
Bosh! No more of this trash. I will get down to business.
I cried when I read of Jer Dwyer's death. 15 years ago he was a star, and a shining one too at all amusements around home. His name, his achievements, his everything will fade, or I may say has faded already. He occupies 2 by 1 yards of earth. His memory I will always cherish, and indeed, I pity poor Aunt Bess. Let me know how she is getting along now.
I was sorry to see that John's family were getting their share of sickness. I hope this will find Mary alright. Give them my regards.
I guess you know all about Bridgie's marriage. She is getting married today. I hope and trust she will meet with the comfort and happiness as she well deserves it. I had a letter yesterday from her forwarded from Phoenix and enclosing 7 dollars. She had not my letter saying that I was here.
Pat underwent quite a lot of expense lately, his children being sick. The rest of them are getting along the same as usual. I met Bridgie's husband. He appears to be a nice looking fellow. I can tell he is a far finer looking man than Alice's or Fanny's husband.
I got here on the 5th of the month. The contractor is an Irishman born in the North of Tipp. He sent me a pass from Phoenix to here. I am timekeeper, bookkeeper and commissariat clerk. We are working in the territory of New Mexico, just near the borders of Texas and Old Mexico. They call it the arse hole of the United States, and indeed it is all that, both in the look of the country and the class of people you meet.
I don't know what I will be paid, but I expect to get $30 a month and board. On another sheet I will give you a full description of my life here. I am damn glad I am working, as I was not at all contented to be such a source of expense to the Chicago folks.
As regards the state of my health, it's hard for me to describe. I cough and expectorate more than when I left home. Ellie will remember I complaining of a pain in my left side of my chest about the size of a canister cover. Well that is paining me quite a good deal today as I caught a cold about two nights ago.
My appetite is better by far than it was home. I suffer quite a good deal from shortness of breath. I am so long out of my health, so long coughing, so long spitting, so long short of breath, so long feeling bad and sickly, that I do not know how I would feel if I had my health.
There is no doubt that this is an extraordinary climate. Imagine how far I was gone into this goddamn disease. Imagine how long I was sickly before I left home and then consider that I am still living, able to get around better than I was twelve months ago, and a good show for living for a number of years yet.
One coming to this climate in the first stages of the disease may be confident that he will get cured. Thousands come out here in the first stages of Consumption and are big strong healthy men now. When it works such wonders on the Consumptive, how much more will it improve the man who has no fatal disease, but a little debilitated and weak.
I have not seen rain fall for over two months. The air is dry and light and not a cloud to be seen in the sky. There is not a blade of green grass within twenty miles of where I am sitting at this moment. The very prairie sand under my feet would almost burn your hand.
Here goes it for a description of my life out here. You are well aware, and I think I wrote you before on many of the different changes of my sojourn in Phoenix. If you look into my life though I met with serious reverses and ill health you will find that with all I never yet was as low in the rank of society as a private. I am not vain. If I ever was, ill health has killed it.
Starting at my last years in Tankerstown, and my foolish ideas regarding certain matters there, go though my years in Cork, my social standing there, the class of boys whom I chummed with and the kind of girls whom I courted, then come to that never to be forgotten summer home when I showed off as you may call it on the old byke, my various rides to Cahir with that suit on that met with so much sneering and scorn from you (the coat and vest of which I wear still) the various performances there. The evening of the sports, and the evening of the U.I.L. Meeting.
Didn't I do it, old boy, considering that I was a walking stick of Tuberculosis at the time. Then came that dark night in October when all my worldly thoughts vanished, when death and jam crocks full of blood began to stare me in the face, and then the long dreary winter and spring months that followed and I, the reckless, vain, castle-in-the-air building fellow lay lying on my back watched over by a loving mother and sister.
Yes, and by some of the beauties around home, including my beloved cousin the lovely squirrel. How anxious and how careful Bridie nursed me. It was a kind of consolation to know that I was not forgotten entirely. I rose out of that bed badly beaten, but not defeated in the battle. A little star lay glimmering for me. It began to brighten. I crossed the Atlantic looking for health to be forgotten by all and to forget what I once was, or imagined I was, or tried to be.
The first three months in Phoenix I was unknown, the last two months I began to make myself felt, not with the young men of the town as my health would not permit, and I had learned too dear a lesson, not with the young beauties as they had no use for a Consumptive whom disease and worry had killed any vitality and good appearance he had. Those pleasures were denied me forever.
I made myself felt with the professional men, the men holding public offices and the representative men in general. Those men did not know but I had thousands of dollars at my back. I posed as an attorney from Ireland, carrying a big store of education in my head. It cost me nothing but many an invited dinner. I succeeded in gaining my old social standing. It was in this way that I succeeded in gaining the present position I hold. I will deal with the morals, the lives, the customs of the young men and women on another sheet.
As I mentioned before, I got a pass to come here, and indeed
where I am, what I am doing and whom I have intercourse with, is stranger and adventurous than any of my previous turns of life.
It's 9 o.c. P.M. now. Time for me to lay down my old blankets on the sand with a canvas tent over me for a house, and try and get some sleep as I must be up in the morning at 6 o'c to count all for breakfast. So good night. I will start to write again tomorrow.
When I got to El Paso (the nearest town from here which is 20 miles) I took a room for the night and the following day. I met the Contractor Toohey. El Paso is just on the border of Old Mexico, and the same evening we went across the line into the nearest Mexican town.
I could write you 20 pages about the queer kind of human beings the Mexicans are, but it would not interest you. So I can say I was in Old Mexico. The following day I came out on a work train to this camp. It was a strange sight met my eyes as I stepped off the train. Nothing but the burning sandy plains for miles around. About twenty tents lay scattered around. 30 men were filling a big hollow with what they call scapers and fresnos, that is big iron shovels which carry about 7 c.wt. in a load attached to two horses and taking stuff from the hills and depositing in the hollow. Another gang of 50 men were attacking to cut through a hill. The gang consisted of about 40 Mexicans and the same number of Americans.
I was met at the train by the walking or chief boss of the Camp (a nephew of the Contractor's) a very nice fellow. I told him my business, and he said I should attack work in the morning, that he hand me over all the books, that I should take charge of the Commissary, see to all goods that would come by the train, see to all goods supplied to the kitchen and dining rooms, see to all hay and grain supplied to the corral or stable boss, see that no goods, either grocery, iron or drapery left the Commissary without being charged to the individual getting same. That I should go out on the works twice a day (10 o'c am and 3 o'c pm) and take every man's time and the note of the work or nature of the work he was doing as some men are paid better than others according to the nature of the work. That I should run the Commissary just as I would run a Store for myself, to be sure that I get all goods ordered, that I write cheques for same, that I sell goods to all men on the works at a profit of 30 to 50 per cent, such a shoes, tobacco, underwear, in fact everything. That as the contractor was running the dining rooms and corral to open an account for each and charge only cost price to kitchen and corral, to be able to show what corral and kitchen cost to keep up each day, in fact to keep all accounts of all incomings and outgoings and time books.
That I should try and learn the Spanish language at once as not a Mexican on the works understood a word of English, that I should ask them their time number in Spanish, be able to understand what they wanted when the men and their wives came in to buy goods.
Don't you think I had a hard proposition to face. He promised to go out on the works with me for a few times until I be able to ask the Mexican his number of the time book in Spanish. The following morning (5th April) I faced the proposition like a man. Began by opening an account against the kitchen and corral and blacksmith shop charging only cost price. Then got a large ledger, began by opening an account for every man on the works from the Chief boss down to the boy hauling drinking water to the men. Took an inventory of all goods in the commissary store. Wrote out orders for all goods I was short of. Took a note of what all goods cost. Make a note of what to sell goods at charging from 30 to 50 per cent profit according to the nature of the sales.
The funniest part of it was I did not know what half the merchandise was for, but I concealed my ignorance as far as I could do so.
Outside of flour, beans and meal, all the other eatable goods are canned, such as peaches, plums, tomatoes, sugar corn, apricots, pie apples, etc. Have to order a whole quarter of beef each day, also ham, bacon and pork. This climate is so hot a lot of tropical fruits beans and rice are used. When 10 o'c came I started out on horseback with the boss to take time. The men were divided into different gangs, each gang have a foreman. First got the foreman's number, turned to that number and marked him 1/2 day, did the same to every white man on the works.
You ask the Mexican as follows: "Que Numero" (that is "What Your Number." He answers "Ogentha Ocha" (that is "eighty eight" and so on according to his number). If he is a new man on the works you ask his name ("Comicia Amus") and he gives you such a name as Manuel Castanego, which you place on the book giving him a number.
The following morning I went out by myself and got the foreman to act as interpreter. After 3 days I required no interpreter. After 3 days more, I had everything in ship shape form. The scale of wages is as follows: Pay a foreman 60 dollars a month and board; Corral boss 50 a month and board; blacksmith 50 and board; cook 60 and board; waiters on table 30 and board.
That is the high scale. American laborers 1 dollar and 75 cents to 2 dollars a day, out of which they pay 75 cents a day for board. Mexican laborers 1 dollar and 25 cents to 1 dollar and 50 cents a day, out of which they pay 50 cents a day for board. Those having a wife and family with them dines out so they pay nothing for board, but have to get all goods from the commissary, as the work train that stops here does not take any order or give any goods except goods ordered by me for commissary.
So you see that with the profit made on the commissary and kitchen, we get back a good deal of the wages we pay out. We also keep a big case of medicine. A doctor visits once a week. Gives me instructions how to use the different medicines if a man gets sick or hurt. For medicine fees we deduct 75 cents a month from each man's wages.
So you see I have a hand at everything. The hardest part of it is to try and understand the Mexicans when they come to buy goods. Boys go to spend 4 years apprentice at a grocery, drapery, or hardware home and I, after a fortnight, am running a store composing everything.
We work about 40 teams of horses on the works. 10 of those teams belong to the contractor. The rest belong to the men on the works. We pay 20 dollars a month for each team along with feeding them, so it would be money making if one had 4 teams. He would make 80 dollars each month along with his own pay.
As regards to the class of Americans who work on Railroads, the men owning teams follow this life to make money, and are fairly well conducted men, but the majority of them are what they term "hobos," that is, rolling stones, travels on freight cars, and never stays more than a month in any one place, and after two years may have visited every town in the Southwest. They are those "By Jesus" class of fellows generally, with as little religious belief in them as would be in a hog. They would work 3 weeks here, come to me for their time, go to El Paso, live with a whore and then go out to another camp when their money was spent.
The Mexican is a strange animal and pretty hard to describe. In looks and appearance he much resembles Don Baker home, the females Maine Baker. They are an unprogressive destructive lot, live chiefly on beans and bacon, and can exist on 2 dollars a week. They are not classed as white people. The Americans have no respect for them, and will not allow them to eat at the same table, so we have got to have a separate dining room for them. The young men are a strong lazy lot, but generally make good cowboys. They are very treacherous, so that an American thinks as little of shooting one of them as lighting his pipe. They in their turn hate the American and when they do catch an American down in their own towns in Old Mexico, he has got to keep pretty quiet or they will fix him.
Arizona, Texas and New Mexico are new countries and are not fully settled on yet. Religion cuts a very poor figure in those three, or may I add in the whole Southwest. It is I may say a missionary country yet.
The Mexicans are all Catholics, missionaries having come out here when all this country was a Spanish settlement. They pay no allegiance to the Pope, though. The American is everything and nothing. The greater number of them in fact all believe there is a God there but they have no respect for the ministers of the Church, especially the Catholic clergy. They will say, "Imagine I going telling a son of a bitch like him that I slept with a whore last night."
A good number of them were raised in the Catholic faith, got careless when they went out in the world, forgot their early training, left years pass by without entering a Church, and finally ended up in being nothing.
The Irishman you find out here who is 12 to 30 years in the Country, is Catholic at heart, gets careless and the greater number of them may not have seen the inside of a Church or gone to Confession from 10 to 20 years. The Churches are not the reigning power. Masonic Lodges and secret friendly societies are the reigning power, as you can see in the number of advertisements inserted in the St. Louis paper which I enclose. The Catholic American will not take the same dose as the Irish, Italian or French Catholic. The Clergy has to handle them pretty nicely. Catholics are forbidden to join any of the Masonic Lodges except the "Elks" and the Knights of Columbus. Nothing but lodges out here in the West, generally got up for socialability and entertainments, and as the young man generally wants a good time of it, they send the opposition of the Church to hell and the Catholic Church sees no more of them.
This is not so back in the East or North. Churches are more plentiful, men go to Sunday Service to the different churches as they do in an old Country, but you cannot expect anything else out of a pioneer country like the west. I expect myself not to see a priest or a church for at least 2 months or until the present contract is finished.
As regards the morals of the general run of young men. If prostitution or living with whores is immoral, then they have no morals. Whore houses are run out here just the same as a dry goods store. In Phoenix on the public footpath to the principle railroad, but outside the city boundary, are 18 one-story houses divided into small rooms, and each room with a large window facing the road. The blinds of the windows are up (except when there is a man cooking for pork inside) and as you pass along you look through the window and see a whore sitting on her bed curling her hair and waiting for someone to come to do business.
It's this way in all the other cities and towns as well. Young men never think of the sinning part of the business; they will discuss among themselves the good looking whore, the clean whore, etc. as we would discuss the best whisky home. Very often while in Phoenix I meet a young man with who I was acquainted. I ask him where he was going. He says "going to get a woman. I have a dollar and feel that I want one." Men working on railroads and mines, and may not see a petticoat for 3 months, first faces the whore shops when they get into town. I don't mean to infer that all young men are of this kind, but the general run of the healthy devil may care young men are.
As regards the respectable man's daughter, she is just the same as in every country, lives up to the position she or her father occupies. Women are in the minority out here, and a nice looking respectable girl may count on many admirers. Marriage laws though are as loose as water. Unfaithful wives are as plentiful as mushrooms. So you see that with religion sneered at all around you, bad living in every shape and form, and the example of everything leads one away if he is not very careful.
Now I will put aside all advising airs and the tendencies which one brother has in not letting the other know his true feelings, or thoughts and treat you as an old confidential chum. And I expect you to write to me in this same manner. Even though you are a brother, it's only human nature that strange things will crop up during your life, and in my life the same way as any other one.
We are all creatures of fortune. I am 24 years of age and you may put me down as having a little more common sense than I had three years ago. As regards your alliance with the squirrel, I am going to let you know more than I have ever told anyone before. You may laugh at what I am going to write, but then I would ask you to remember that I was only human, and also your own case.
Verbally speaking mine was only a dream of a vain youth, it was a dream right though from start to finish. If things turned out as I would have them it might be different, but when I lost my health I lost those vain ideas. I don't mean to say that the object of my transient affections (for my affections were never otherwise but transient, one good looking face was the same to me as another) repaid me in affection as much as the squirrel do you. If she did, and that I met her as often as you met the squirrel I probably would not care so much. My affections would begin to dampen as familiarity with females always bred contempt with me. It was more of a vain able-to-go-there idea with men than what people term true regard or love (shit).
What I am talking of did not occur in Cork. The seed was sown at home, grew at home and was reaped at home, or I may say came to a sudden death at home. There is no doubt but I had some lofty vain transient ideas while I was in Cork.
The person whom I write of I met about 8 times privately, had about 1/2 dozen letters, but be that as it may, that magnetic battery, that heart read feeling existed on my side, and I have it from her that it existed on her side also. But that dark dreary day in my life came along when that terrible enemy of mankind took possession of my body and my health under the strain and waste of tubercular germs began to give way and with it those lofty castle in the air building ideas.
I also began to realize that those ideas regarding this female should come to an end, and by degrees as I grew worse, my vanity became less, my foolish ideas vanish until at last I began to see all in its true light. I saw that all had slipped from me never to be regained. Instinct taught me that as I had lost my health, I should also lose vanity, I should also put aside those vain ideas, that my castles in the air were dashed to the ground, that what had occurred to me debarred me from ever forming such ideas again, that I should look upon life as a blank with nothing earthly to live for and indeed life at present is such the only standing everyday-live-for-idea is to be able to once more walk up the old boreen and clasp my old mother in my arms.
That is what I live for at present. That and the salvation of my soul. The present state of my health debars me from ever amassing a large fortune, or even gaining a high social position. I say to myself, "What's the use, I may die tomorrow." It may be a good thing that I did lose my health. If I had my health I would never think and look upon things as I do now. I would live to have a good time of it. To give full vent to my passions.
But to return to the subject I was writing of. You probably would like to know if I ever think of this fair female, if the old flame has left any burning cinders. I can answer you truly "No." Loss of health first began to dampen it, then absence, with thousands of miles of land and water between us, fully extinguish it. However, it is a sad case for me that I must bury all ideas forever in reference to females, her or any other good looking respectable women whom, in the natural course of events, I would like to conquer and one day to call her wife, if health stayed with me. If in the present state of my health I live for 30 years, it would be the greatest sin of my life if I ever thought of marriage. If I did, and that I had vitality enough to be a father, my child would have good reason to curse his consumptive father, as he would probably inherit the disease.
Its mother would have good reason to curse the day she became my wife. So you see that woman with all her charms is dead to me for ever. Man is so vain that his capital idea is to live to shine in society. In unhealthy persons, that vanity must naturally die.
Coming then to your little entanglement. You say it is at an end, and you dwell on the bitterness of parting. Well, Jem, fate marks out a path for each and every one of us. You may be hard struck, and may feel that parting keenly. You are in sound health. Your prospects and ideas are apparently the same as the day that little courtship began. Worldly speaking, you have lost nothing. You may say as the song says, "There is only one gal in this world for me. Only one gal has my sympathy." But I doubt it. She probably was never meant for you.
I turn around in my bed at night and think of many things, and among my thoughts are many regarding my past show among some girls, and I end up by telling myself I was a damn fool. You too will come to that day when on one hand you will allow a smile of vanity to cross your countenance on thinking of how you made that girl care for you and on the other hand you will call yourself a fool for keeping up a courtship (which to all appearance could never result in anything but a leaving off where you began) so long.
They say "absence makes the heart grow fonder." Damn rot. Distance and absence leads very fast to forgetfulness. Something tells me that fate will bring you and I together out here yet, and if that day comes you and I will have a long chat and a long laugh over the past.
Well, I will close about females and come to what your intentions are regarding the future. The tone of your letter shows that you are discontented. This is a subject which no one should dictate to or advise you on, so do not take what I have to say as dictation or advice. I merely make suggestions, or in other words, give my opinion. Taking how you stood when I left home and your disinclination to come to this country, as far as I know you may still hold the same ideas, still hold to the foolish notion of being one day a policeman.
I don't know what the people at home would wish you to do but whatever their wishes are, I don't want to say anything that would make you disobey them. If your intention is to come to this country, then I will say this much. You say you do not feel very robust, then come to a climate like this (which I have fully described on another sheet). Having no organic disease, after a few months you will get to be an exceptionally healthy man. I could get you into any contract I would be working at. I have made myself felt in Phoenix and here, so you could easily get a job, and you need not be very particular about the kind of work, as I have to be, not having either health or strength.
As you may see, I began this letter near 3 weeks ago, but a terrible rush came on, and for the past fortnight I had not a minute to myself. I had to start on big payrolls for April month, sales rolls and the devil knows what. I worked harder than I ever did in Cork. 12 o'c found me going to bed at night, and I was afraid I would have to give up, I got so played out I had to spend 2 days in bed, and I feel tired and weak yet. I felt so tired at night I used to be too lazy to take off my clothes. I am very weak physically so that any rush of work and worry plays me out easily.
To add to the fire the boss of the camp fell sick and had to go to El Paso Hospital, so I have a new walking boss now, a nice quiet man. The boss sees to the progress of the work, and I (timekeeper) see to their time and all outgoing and incomings. Sometimes a clash occurs as to who is boss of certain things, I or him, such as kitchen expenses, cook, waiters, etc.. But we talk those things in a quiet manner over between us and do what is best. I may tell you I have to be very particular and energetic to hold the (illegible).
Our cook and waiter went off to a camp saloon 3 miles away last night, got rotten drunk, and was not able to get breakfast this morning. So I had to get up at 4 o'c, get 3 working men, and prepare a breakfast. When I began to call the cook and waiter, they began to call me names, such as a one-lunged son of a bitch. I made out their time, took their two cheques down to the kitchen in my hand, and a six-shooter in the other, and handed them their cheques, told them clear out, and you bet they got out pretty fast, for I was so mad I would have killed the damn bastards. You may not believe this when I tell you, but it's perfect truth, and that is I sleep with a loaded six-shooter under my head every night. It's the custom of the country. You have got to do it, as you cannot trust a Mexican or some of those white hobos.
In many ways the wild west still exists, and you have got to adapt yourself to their ways. On these and other matters I will write you a second letter as soon as I can. But I must get off this in the morning, as I know you all are anxious to hear from me.
I think I have written you a long letter. Believe me it is not for pleasure I am writing, but in order that you would know all, and read and think of what I have written, as I hope to get one as long from you.
I was sorry to see that you had contracted tethers. I hope when this reaches you, they will be completely gone, leaving no mark.
This contract will be finished in a month, so that probably I will be idle until the contractor starts another. I got 40 dollars a month and board for last month. I did not work the full month, and after deducting all expenses I had 27 dollars coming to me. I expect to have nearly all 40 dollars coming to me this month after deducting special things I ordered for myself, such as fresh eggs, medicine, etc.
I hope this will find you all enjoying good health and that poor father is still keeping good. Also mother. You can give Ellie the first 3 sheets to read if you like, but no more.
Good bye,
from your loving bro
Maurice Murnane
M.M.
E-Mail: emurnane@murnane.org