Women of the Colorado Labor Wars

 Post by Doris McCraw writing as Angela Raines

Goldmine headframe in Victor
Photo property of the author

Since my monthly post falls close to the Labor Day holiday, I thought I'd take this opportunity to speak about the women who were involved in some of the "Labor Wars" that took place in Colorado. I will be addressing the 1904 Cripple Creek strike and the 1914 Ludlow Massacre.

In 1903-04 the Cripple Creek/Victor miners and their union decided to strike in support of the workers at the ore processing plant in Colorado Springs. This was one in a series of strikes the Western Federation on Miners conducted since winning their fight for shorter days and a pay increase. In the Cripple Creek area, the union men were incarcerated in what was called the bullpen, an outdoor holding facility. Many faced deportations. The newspaper in Victor, 'The Victor Daily Record' was a pro-union publication. The publisher/editor was arrested by the national guard and placed in the bullpen. When Emma F. Langdon heard of the raid, she went to the paper around midnight, barred the doors, and set about putting out the next issue of the paper.

from Wikipedia

In here 1908 book, "Labor's Greatest Conflicts", she talks of taking the paper up to the men in the bullpen and overhearing the guards talking about shutting down the paper only to be surprised at seeing the latest issue. Emma went on to spend her years after this strike writing and speaking on behalf of the miners and the Western Federation of Miners. A search in Google Books on Emma F. Langdon is well worth the effort to wade through. For an overview of Emma: Emma F. Langdon- Wikipedia

The second woman is Mary G. Harris Jones, known to most as Mother Jones. She was associated with organizing the coal miners in Colorado against the Rockefeller owned Colorado Fuel and Iron. Although she was arrested and was spending time incarcerated during what is known as the Ludlow Massacre, she later met with Rockefeller and some indicate that after that meeting Rockefeller he visited the mines and instituted reforms.

Mother Jones - 1902
from Wikipedia

Prior to arriving in Colorado, Mother Jones had suffered the loss of her husband and four children to yellow fever. She had a dressmaking shop in Chicago and lost that during the Chicago Fire. From that point, she began working for the betterment of the working class, including children. Known as a person to be reckoned with, she spoke her mind and did what she had to do. Again a Google Book search on Jones also is worth the effort to study. For an overview of Mother Jones: Mother Jones, Wikipedia

For those who would like to know more about the strikes themselves, the following books may be of interest: "The Colorado Labor Wars: Cripple Creek 1903-1904" edited by Tim Blevins, and "Killing for Coal: America's Deadliest Labor War" by Thomas G. Andrews.

It is sometimes easy to forget how difficult life was back then, especially for the working class and their families. These two women stepped up and did what they thought was best, despite those who worked against them. To me, these women are a lesson in what one can accomplish when you set your mind to it.

Doris Gardner-McCraw -

Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History

Angela Raines - author: Telling Stories Where Love & History Meet

Books: Angela Raines Books

Website: Angela Raines - author

Angela Raines FaceBook: Click Here

The Characters Behind the Characters - The Gentleman Thieves

The Characters Behind the Characters - The Gentleman Thieves   

C. A. Asbrey

It’s no secret that The Innocents Mysteries Series is partially inspired by the story, and the movie, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. The idea of popular outlaws, who planned and trained to be better at stealing, and who had a mystique which followed them into a charismatic twilight of a mythical new life which allowed at least one of them to life happily-ever-after in domestic obscurity is an enticing trope. It seemed even more exciting to make the love interest a woman on the other side of the law.

But it also took me on another line of research. My characters were criminals, but who had limits as to their cruelty and venality. But did people like that really exist, or was it just a romantic fiction? Without dwelling too much on the story of Robert LeRoy Parker and Harry Longabough, and whether or not either of them did manage to go straight and live happily ever after, what about the rest of the criminal world?

My Innocents Mysteries series of books feature criminals who, while not being exactly squeaky-clean, are polite(ish), humane, and even chivalrous. So, did people like that actually exist or is the concept ridiculous?  

Charles Arthur Floyd

Let’s start with those who were definitely out for themselves, but who didn’t mind helping out the little fella while he was there. Charles Arthur Floyd, A.K.A. Pretty Boy Floyd hated his nickname.  A payroll master at a robbery described Floyd as “a mere boy — a pretty boy with apple cheeks.” Like his contemporary Baby Face Nelson, Floyd despised his nickname. His dying words, after being shot multiple times were in response to being asked if he was Pretty Boy Floyd replied, “I’m Charles Arthur Floyd.” Despite  an active criminal career he was often protected by locals in Oklahoma, where he was seen as the “Robin Hood of the Cookson Hills”. He had a reputation of helping to look after the grindingly poor by raiding shops to give away the food to starving people. He was also said to destroy mortgage records when he raided banks, although how the householder was supposed to know the bank no longer had proof of their mortgage debt is not clear.

Due to the violence of the men he worked with it’s hard to put Charles Arthur Floyd in the category of Gentleman Thief, but he does nod towards the dichotomy under discussion.

James Freney

Our next Gentleman thief actually lived to a relatively old age (69) for the 18th century and certainly seems to be a better fit for the model. James Freney was an Irish highwayman in the 18th century. He was driven to a life of crime when the bar he ran made insufficient profits to pay the exorbitant fees charged by the city corporation. He was officially proclaimed an outlaw in 1748. At the time, Ireland was suffering under England’s Penal Laws, which kept the Irish out of many  professions. This repression drove Freney to close down his pub and saddled him with so many taxes that he had little choice but to look outside the law to make ends meet. He lived to his otto, “Rob only those who are worth robbing.”

Like every true gentleman criminal, Freney insisted his gangs adhere to a code of honor, which included remaining courteous, returning goods if they held sentimental value or the victim needed them, and assisting the poor whenever possible. Even so, he was a first-class marksman and never feared getting into a brawl if someone crossed him.

He reigned supreme in his area for five years before he was captured. Freney work out a deal with the chief justices in which Freney would be allowed to emigrate as they feared civil unrest of such a hero was hanged. His gang were not so lucky and ended their lives on the gallows.  He published his autobiography, The Life and Adventures of Mr James Freney in 1754. It was a huge success and Thackeray included Freney in the novel The Luck of Barry Lyndon, where he has Barry encounter Freney on the highway. The incident appears also in the film Barry Lyndon (in the film, Barry refers to the man about to rob him as “Feeney”). Local landmarks named after him include Freney’s Rock and Freney’s Well, and he was the hero of The Ballad of the Bold Captain.

Bill Carlisle

Our next candidate  for Gentleman Thief was one of the last great train robbers of the American Old West, a career he took up on something of a whim. An orphan, he drifted from one job to another, riding trains, working in the circus, and performing other odd jobs. In February 1916, he found himself in Wyoming with no prospects, only a nickel to his name, and a gun. Carlisle’s first holdup was a dime novel stereotype. He sneaked onto the train and fired a warning shot into the roof to prove it was a legitimate robbery (there were some doubters). He covered his face with a white bandana, gathered the loot, but tossed a few coins to the porter to make up for lost tips. He gave another man a silver dollar to pay for his breakfast. A woman tried to grab his gun, but he evaded her and gave her a bow before leaping from the train. The “White Masked Bandit” was now $52 richer. and he didn’t stop there.. He robbed Union Pacific Railroad several more times until they eventually offered a $6,500 reward for his capture, dead or alive. That’s $150,030.73 today. Motivated by the large reward money, a posse caught him in May 1916, and Carlisle was sentenced to life in prison. He later escaped, was recaptured, and then was paroled in 1936 for good behavior.Like other gentleman thieves, Carlisle had a moral code. As he never hurt anyone and never stole from women, children, or servicemen, I think he is a good candidate for the title. In one of his capers, he was attempting to rob a train when he realized it was full of soldiers returning from World War I. He let the men keep their money and claimed that he would have fought alongside them had he not been in prison at the time.

Bill Miner

Bill Miner epitomized what it meant to be an Old West outlaw and he had a longer career than Jesse James. This was mostly because he was terrible a evading capture and spent most of his career in jail. He was imprisoned seven times, escaped four of those times, yet still spent a total of 35 years behind bars. His criminal career stretched between 1865 and 1911. He was a true highwayman, robbing everything from stagecoaches to trains, and he spent his money on women and whiskey – and as the old saying goes, wasted the rest. He was reputed to be the first to say “put your hands up, and nobody gets hurt.”  Unlike other outlaws, he wasn’t known for spittin’ or cussin’ or gun-slinging. He was polite and soft-spoken. After his death, a major newspaper ran a four-column story on Miner, describing him as a “kindly, lovable old man, whose thoughts were humorous, whose manner was that of one who was a friend to all humankind . . . the most courtly, the most kindly spoken, the most venerable man . . . one whom they all regard with affection and something of esteem.” Miner had secured that soft spot in so many people’s hearts by stealing almost entirely from corporations, feeling that they robbed the common man. Many agreed, and he became a folk hero in both the US and Canada. On the occasions when Miner had to steal from an ordinary person to, say, facilitate his way out of town, he often made a point to return at least part of what he had taken. For instance, on one occasion, he stole $80 from a ranch hand and then later returned $10. In another instance, he robbed a driver of $5, his watch, and boots, yet was considerate enough to return the watch and boots after he finished with them. These types of thoughtful acts earned him the nickname “the Gentleman Bandit.”

Charles Earl Boles  (Black Bart)

 Black Bart was one of the first Gentlemen Thieves I came across and I admit to a sneaking affection for him, and for the fact that he later disappeared and nobody knows what happened to him. After the Civil War, Charles Boles was a former First Sergeant in the Union Army, and was happily making a living as a gold miner when he was forced off his land by Wells Fargo. They had apparently offered to buy Boles’s property they cut off the water supply when he refused. This shut down his mine. Boles was infuriated and cryptically wrote a letter to his wife saying he was going to take revenge against the bank. While he never explained the specifics of his vengeance, we can assume this is when his alter ego, Black Bart, was born.

From then, Black Bart had it out for the bank and subsequently robbed their stagecoaches 28 times. He was civil, never physically harmed anyone, and stole strictly from Wells Fargo and never from passengers. Even the bank described him as being non-vicious and “polite to all passengers, especially to ladies.” Amazingly, he traveled on foot to and from robberies and carried a shotgun so old that it couldn’t shoot (he didn’t even bother loading it). Although he always worked alone, he would often prop up sticks on nearby boulders to make it look like he had a posse of men standing by.Occasionally, he was thoughtful enough to leave poems behind—Wells Fargo was not amused. His last poem read: Here I lay me down to sleep
To await the coming morrow
Perhaps success, perhaps defeat
And everlasting sorrow
Let come what will, I’ll try it on
My condition can’t be worse
And if there’s money in that box
‘Tis munny in my purse.
Black Bart’s unique style and sophistication made him a hero in California (except to Wells Fargo), and it took over a decade before he was finally tracked down by Pinkerton Detectives. He went to San Quentin Prison for four years and was released early, in 1888, for good behavior. He disappeared shortly after and was never seen again. I like to think he went off quietly somewhere with a stash of cash to enjoy a happy retirement.

Excerpt

“She hasn’t got the combination to the safe,” said the manager. “You can scare her as much as you want. We all know you’re not gonna use that gun on us.”

Rebecca’s breath halted as she felt a careless arm drape around her shoulder.

“I don’t need a gun to hurt someone. Give us the combination.” The manager remained mute and turned his face away. “Your call, sir.” He pulled Rebecca around to face him as she gasped in alarm. “Just remember who you’ve got to thank for this, ma’am.”

He pointed over at the manager, who refused to meet her eyes. “That man right there.”

“Anything that happens to her is down to you. Not me,” said the manager.

Rebecca felt herself dragged from the room by one arm. She was pulled into the office next door and pushed against the wall. The man walked over and pulled down the blind before returning to her. Her breath came in ragged pants of fear. “Please, no. Don’t.”

He leaned on the wall, a hand on either side of her head, and pressed his face close. “You were gonna hold this place up. Are you some kind of idiot?”

She blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

The man pulled down his mask, revealing the face of the fair man who had walked into her office looking for Fernsby. “Don’t lie to me, honey. You had the same idea as we did— look at Meagher’s bank account to see where he gets his money. We’ve watched you march up and down outside this place all day, like you were on sentry duty, while you built up your courage. You even got in the way of us doin’ it. What the hell is goin’ on in your head? How dumb can a woman get?”

“You? Here?” She couldn’t quite decide whether to stop being scared or not.

“Yeah. Me.” He indicated with his head. “Now, Nat’s in there, and he needs the combination of the safe. It’s too new and sophisticated for him to crack the combination. You and me need to put on a bit of a show to make sure the manager gives it up.”

“You’re not robbing the bank?”

Jake huffed in irritation. “Try to keep up, Becky. I need you to scream for help so the manager gives Nat the combination to the vault. We want Meagher’s records too.”

She shook her head. “Me? I can’t scream.”

“What do you mean you can’t scream? All women can scream.”

“I can’t. I’m just not made that way.”

He frowned. “Look, Becky. If you won’t scream, I’m gonna have to make you. Let’s do this the easy way, huh?”

“Please, help! Noooo.”

Jake frowned. “You call that screamin’? That’s useless.”

“I told you. I can’t.”

Jake flicked up an eyebrow. “Last chance, Becky.”

“Aaargh—”

“Nope.” A gloved hand reached up to her hat as his eyes glittered with mischief. “Don’t say you weren’t warned, sweetheart.” 

     

     

Into the Storm

     As the twentieth century dawned, women had full suffrage in only four states – Wyoming, Colorado, Idaho and Utah. Women failed to win full voting rights in any additional states until the dam broke in 1910,  when the state of Washington granted women’s suffrage.

Alice Paul

     That same year, Alice Paul returned to the United States from London, where she had been studying and working as a case worker in a settlement house. While in England, she became involved in the struggle for women’s rights. Through her experiences with arrests, imprisonments, hunger strikes, and forced feedings, she learned how to generate publicity for the cause and how to capitalize on that publicity from the British leaders of the movement. Paul returned to the University of Pennsylvania to continue her studies and began participating in National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA) activities, including speaking at the national convention.

     Finally, in the culmination of a long struggle, California women won the right to vote in 1911.

     In 1912, the Progressive Party, led by Theodore Roosevelt, included voting rights for women in their platform. That same year, women won the right to vote in Oregon, Arizona, and Kansas. But eastern states continued to stand in staunch opposition to the cause.

     After earning her Ph.D. in sociology in 1912, Paul dedicated herself to American suffrage efforts. She strongly supported a federal suffrage, which ran contrary to the entrenched state-by-state plan of the NASWA. She and Lucy Burns, who had also been involved in England’s women’s rights movement, joined forces. Paul asked to be assigned to the association’s Congressional Committee.

     One of her first major efforts on the committee was to plan and execute a parade in Washington, D.C. to bring national attention to the suffrage movement and to put pressure on newly elected President Woodrow Wilson. The event was scheduled the day before his inauguration in in March 1913.

     She recruited approximately 8000 marchers from around the country and organized floats, bands and chariots to intersperse with the suffragists. A contingent of men who supported women’s suffrage made up one unit. To placate the southern marchers, the black women were asked to march at the end of the procession.

     Many participants carried banners or wore sashes demanding votes for women. The parade was led by notable labor lawyer Inez Milholland, dressed in white and riding a white horse,  and by a huge banner proclaiming, "We Demand an Amendment to the United States Constitution Enfranchising the Women of the Country."

     The police force was insufficient to keep the peace. More than half-a-million people turned out to view the parade, including large numbers of men in town for the inauguration. When the crowd pushed into the streets, creating chaos and preventing the procession from passing, many of the policemen did nothing to protect the marchers. Approximately 100 women sustained injuries and were hospitalized. Ultimately, national guardsmen were called in to restore order. A Senate hearing was called later in the week to review the  performance of the police. Many women recounted the inaction of the police and one Senator testified to the badge numbers of police officers he had seen standing idly by rather than coming to the aid of the marchers.

     The parade succeeded in bringing national attention to the movement. That same year, the Alaska Territory granted full suffrage to women.

      Paul's methods and her emphasis on the goal of a federal amendment created tension with Anna Shaw, president of NAWSA, and other leaders of the organization. They thought Paul was moving too aggressively in Washington, D.C. and elsewhere and were unhappy that she didn’t support their state-by-state approach. Disagreements about strategy and methods led to a break with NAWSA.

      By the beginning of 1914, Alice Paul and Lucy Burns had formed the Congressional Union for Woman Suffrage to campaign for a constitutional amendment guaranteeing suffrage for women throughout the United States of America.

     The fight was on.

Ann Markim

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Flowers and Romance and how I use them in my writing.

Flowers and Romance – Excerpts. Plus how I use them in my writing.

THE SNOW BRIDE (THE KNIGHT AND THE WITCH 1) https://amzn.to/2MZZan0    

UK  https://amzn.to/2H1tYzY                    

I often use flowers and seasons, and the folklore and symbols attached to these, as ways to point out contrasts in my stories. So in “The Snow Bride” I have the harshness of winter set against my heroine and hero’s dreams of summer – a clue to their developing feelings and relationship. The Green Man, too, is an old figure in folk lore and a powerful symbol of rebirth and renewal - a sign of Magnus' own changing circumstances.

Excerpt

                                                               

They plodded another mile, then Magnus admitted they should stop. Even on the old west road, which they had stumbled onto at midnight, going was onerous. The horses were weary, heads down, stumbling, their hooves covered in snow. When the snow turned to a biting sleet, everyone had endured enough.

          Before him Elfrida was silent, uncomplaining, though God knew she must be chilled and weary. It was she who noticed the forester's hut, set back from the road behind a holly tree. She tapped his arm to alert him and he called orders to the others, his voice cracking in the cold.

          The forester, whoever he had been, had abandoned the hut, but it was just big enough for them all. Magnus knocked out a panel of wattle to enlarge the door and they brought the horses in.

          While he made a fire just inside the doorway Elfrida slipped off into the darkness. When she returned the men had bedded down and were chewing whatever rations they had with them. Magnus patted a lump in the floor beside him, close to the fire, and she lay down without a sound.

          Magnus rose and put what remained of the door back across the threshold as a barrier and wind-break. Checking it was secure, he knocked the snow off his cloak and stretched out again beside Elfrida. As soon as he closed his eyes he slept, and dreamed.

          It was summer and he was in a pleasure garden. Protected by a stout stone wall, it was bordered by fruit trees and ripening vines and filled with small sparkling fountains, the like of which he had not seen since his return from Outremer. One fountain played over a turf seat studded with marigolds and daises. Magnus ran his fingers through the damp flowers and he heard a woman sigh with contentment, a welcome sound.

          Elfrida always knew when she was dreaming and this time was no different. It was midsummer and she strolled in an orchard filled with fragrant apple blossom. She carried a twig of mistletoe, its waxy berries still in impossibly fresh bloom. Above her head finches darted and sang and bees buzzed in lazy contentment, dusky with pollen. There was a hay stack beneath an oak tree and a green man smiling at her though the heavy white-green pomanders of a guelder rose. 

          "You have a gentle, courteous touch, Sir Magnus."

          Elfrida sighed again and stretched out on the turf seat. Where she lay down roses sprouted and burst into flower, their petals as soft and flawless as her skin. She smiled, and in the wonder of the moment Magnus could not tell if she was clothed or not. From a blower of white and pink rose petals, she held out her hands to him and smiled a second time, trusting and warm, her bright eyes filled with admiration. "Come."

          The green man sprang down from the branches of the guelder rose and became Magnus. He bowed to her, a warm breeze ruffling his black hair curls. "My Lady."

THE SNOW BRIDE (THE KNIGHT AND THE WITCH 1) https://amzn.to/2MZZan0    

UK  https://amzn.to/2H1tYzY

In the sequel to "The Snow Bride", I use medieval beliefs to explore how flowers could be used in magic and for more sinister purposes than courtship. 

A SUMMER BEWITCHMENT ( THE KNIGHT AND THE WITCH 2) https://amzn.to/2SxGj5L Amazon Co Uk  https://amzn.to/352aAfD
In"A Summer Bewitchment", Elfrida explains to Magnus about valerian.

Excerpt

Outside in the warm, still evening they walked arm in arm, both carrying panniers, and Elfrida shared what she knew of the stranger with Magnus. He in turn told her what he had learned of Rowena from the priest. It was, she thought, strangely companionable, but she wished they were speaking of less dark, mysterious matters.

“Valerian is a magic plant,” she explained, skirting carefully around a flowering elder bush. “It has many uses. One is as a lure. To seduce.”

“And the hare’s foot?” Magnus nodded to the elder bush as he stalked by, a grudging acknowledgement. “The rosemary I know from you is a guardian against evil spirits, so is that good?”

“Because he protects himself from demons and the like does not mean he is not evil himself.”

“Well spoken! The stranger’s mention of a Holy Mother?”

“The hare protects him from all danger. It is a creature of magic. The mother he reveres may be the Virgin, but he worships her in older ways.”

Magnus raised his black brows in silent inquiry.                              

“The wreath he leaves in thanks and sacrifice, of valerian and elder blossom, marigold, wild thyme and daisy, is made of flowers pleasing to the older gods. I have seen such posies left at ancient standing stones and statues, at rock carvings of the horned god.”

As flowers are often seen as decorative and signs of peace, healing, love and respect, I wished to show a scene where my heroine Elfrida also uses them as instruments of revenge. She and Magnus have been deliberately insulted at a noble's house by Elfrida being offered a gown to dress in that is little more than a rag. She uses flowers gathered from the common land to transform it.

Excerpt  

“These are beautiful.” Elfrida meanwhile was lifting up stems of corncockle, of oxeye daisies, of lilies and white roses. She gave him a look warm with gratitude. “Truly beautiful living jewels.”

He smiled, to prove he was not aggrieved with her, and watched in burning indulgence. Flowers flashed under and through her nimble fingers, a cascade of whites and purples, shot through with gold. Elfrida was charming them, using her magic to pin and fasten the blooms to the dull brown gown. In moments, as he leaned against the door, ignoring another careful knock, she threaded flowers into sleeves and made a belt of lilies worthy of Solomon. Her face glittering with concentration, she stripped the roses of their thorns and fashioned them into a crown.

“My lord.” A plea beyond the door.

“Hold!” Magnus ordered, his cheek against the wood.

When he twisted round again Elfrida was robed in her gown and plaiting her long hair. “Splendor

Wild Rose

 in…” The oath died on his lips. At times his wife’s beauty was almost unearthly, utterly peerless. How? He wanted to ask, but it was Elfrida herself and what she could do.

The brown dress was transformed, enchanted by the woman wearing it and her flowers. She was a living tapestry, her face that of an angel’s, her unveiled hair brighter than a dragon’s flame and crowned by white and pink roses. Sleeved with oxeye daisies and corncockle, belted by lilies and garlanded with golden marigolds, the sweet fragrance as she moved was rich as the summer itself.

There were even flowers for him, Magnus realized, as she secured a spray of oxeye daisies across his chest.

“Hey!” he half-protested, but she wagged a busy finger. “Today, you are my lord of flowers. These are your banner.”

A SUMMER BEWITCHMENT ( THE KNIGHT AND THE WITCH 2) https://amzn.to/2SxGj5L Amazon Co Uk  https://amzn.to/352aAfD

 Lindsay Townsend 

Opening a Can of Beans or How to Feed Your Characters

by Patti Sherry-Crews

A brief history of the can opener might not be the most romantic topic for a blog post to be written by a romance writer, but as a writer of historical fiction stopping my narrative to ask questions such as "how did people in the old west get their food out of the can?" is part of my process.

When I sit down to craft a story I probably spend as much time researching as I do writing—if not more. Especially if I'm working on an historical novel. I might start a line of dialog and then wonder if a certain word or phrase was in use at the time, so I have to open a new tab on my laptop to look up the etymology of said word or phrase.

Likewise, dropping in historically accurate details requires research. The minutiae of my characters' lives is what brings depth and texture to the story. They don't just sit down to eat, they have to eat something and it better be something available during that time period.

So, I spend a good amount of time looking up details about clothing, food, medicine, etc.

When I wrote my first historical western, Margarita and the Hired Gun, the two main characters spend most of the book out on the trail—for weeks on horseback. They had to eat, and though they did live off the land to some extent, they mainly had to rely on food they carried with them. This presented a problem for me because how would they keep food from spoiling on their long journey?

In researching this question, I was surprised to find how early canned food became available. Canned food has been around since 1810. It would have been one of the foodstuffs Michael and Margarita carried with them in their saddlebags in the late 19th century.

While working on my most recent project, I once again put my characters out on the trail. In one chapter they sit down together to share a can of beans....but, wait....how do they open that can of beans? I never thought about that before.

 Hero and heroine stare mutely at one another across the campfire holding a can of beans aloft and wondering how to open it. Author, help us out here, their bewildered eyes seem to say.

* the author opens a new tab.

I quickly looked up when the first can opener was made to see what this handy tool would have looked like. In 1858, Ezra J. Warner designed the first can opener. Warner's design consisted of a pointed blade with a guard made to puncture the can. Then a second, curved blade would be worked around the top of the can in a sawing motion.

But, pay attention: Peter Durand got a patent from King George III for his canned food process in 1810. Notice that? Canned food was out there 50 years before anyone could figure out how to get the food out of the can!

That's like building a garage around a car before envisioning the need for a door the width of a car to drive out of the garage. So how did folks open a can of peaches before 1858?

 Briefly, let's look at canned food, the need for which was a by-product of war. Needing to move troops great distances for long periods of time, Napoleon offered a reward to anyone who could solve the problem of feeding an army on the move. In 1809 Nicolas Appert first preserved foods by putting them in hermetically sealed and heat sterilized containers. Unfortunately these early containers were made of glass, which is not the ideal for rough travel.

The first cans (short for "canisters") made by Durand were of wrought iron with a tin lining. In order to open them, the use of a chisel and hammer was recommended. As you can imagine canned food did not immediately take off like it was the best thing since sliced bread. 

Then came the American Civil War and canned foods once again kept moving armies fed. Canned foods like oysters, meats, fruit, and vegetables made their way from the battlefield to the general stores at this time. 

But early can openers were not user-friendly. The threat from the sharp blade and the jagged edges left on the open can frightened the customers, so store clerks would perform the service of opening cans for them during purchase.

Now, back to our romantic campfire dinner now completed and recently published story, His Unexpected Companion. Since Kit and Olivia are traveling after 1858, I was able to provide them with a Warner can opener.

Excerpt:

They worked together around the campfire. He kept a deliberate distance from her all the while. He levered open the can of beans with a firm grip on the wooden handle of the can opener, slicing the curved blade through the metal. Because it was so new, the blade was very sharp.

“Watch your fingers.” Her voice so close to his ear startled him, causing him to

jerk his hand. 

He took in a sharp breath. He could have easily sliced his hand open. It was a narrow miss.

“You might want to give a warning before a man picks up a sharp object. Not while he’s using it.” He finished opening the can of beans and dumped it into the skillet with the bacon already cooking and filling the air with its fragrance.

She clicked her tongue. “Kind of jumpy aren’t you?” her sights fixed on him as he cleaned off the can opener with his kerchief. “I see you got one of those fancy openers.”

“I bought it in town. No sense in wrestling with a can. How do you open them?”

“With my knife.”

You can see the can opener plays a small part in the story. It gets mentioned a couple more times, and the reader probably doesn’t think anything of it. But from the author’s point of view, a lot of behind-the-scenes work went into this simple passage. The exchange also tells us something about the hero and heroine.

Authors, have you come across any interesting facts while doing research? How much time do you spend researching versus writing? Do you have any go-to places to search out your facts? Readers, do anachronism stop you dead in your tracks while you’re into a book?

About His Unexpected Companion:

Olivia Darling is her own woman—self-sufficient, intelligent, and wise to the ways of the world. She’s also beautiful enough to rile other women and garner unwanted attention from men, which could bring more danger down on her than living the outlaw life she’s taken to. Headed home to Colorado, she’s ready to put her past behind her—but what kind of reception will she get?

Kit Traver is headed home to Colorado, giving up his law practice back East to return to the place he loves—and the woman he intends to marry. His life neatly planned, this journey will give him the time he needs to be alone with nature before he takes on the responsibilities of practicing law again and being a married man. 

When Kit and Olivia meet in Denver, it’s not the best first impression—for either of them. But, they are traveling the same trail, so it’s only natural they ride along together. It’s obvious to Kit that Olivia needs his protection—if only from herself!

But traveling together ignites a fire between them that can’t be ignored, especially once they arrive, only to discover that everything has changed while they’ve been away. With her father mysteriously murdered, Olivia has her hands full trying to keep the big ranchers from pushing her off her family’s small spread. Can Olivia and Kit make a home together? Will Kit walk away from his socialite family for the love of HIS UNEXPECTED COMPANION?

Available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08CN617WV

To see more books by Patti Sherry-Crews visit her website http://pattisherrycrews16.wix.com/author-blog

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