Tale of the Tommy knocker - Joel Goers

There are many stories of the gold rush throughout the west. It was a time of economic boom, a time for progress in industry, territorial expansion and also a time for fantastic, romantic and sometimes tall tales of the epic west. A sense of mysticism and destiny surrounded the conquering of this fabled land. Yet as quickly as it had started, the gold rush soon burnt itself out, a raging fire with not enough fuel. Left in the wake of the rush are the skeletal remains of ghost towns, huge mining shafts, and innumerable twisted catacombs deep beneath the heart of the Rocky Mountains.

Mining was one of the most dangerous jobs of that era and truly required gold as an incentive. The technology of the time being somewhat unreliable and crude compared to modern times, cave-ins and mechanical of mishaps were an everyday threat to miners. Now according to popular mining town lore/history (for the two are quite often interchangeable in such romanticized environments), cave-ins, missing tools and machinery malfunctions were not always the result of poor construction or lack of care. Sometimes the unexplained happened and even when every possible precaution had been taken by the miners, catastrophes still occurred. When unexpected things happened, many miners with simple educations would use tales and folklore as an explanation.

Around a century and a half later I was born into a family that lived up around Idaho Springs, a sparse small mining town left over from the days of glory. I spent my childhood growing up in the mountains miles away from any sort of neighbors or towns. I can still vividly remember just how magic those mountains were to a 4 year old child. Along with the magic came the horrific realization of just how dangerous the mountain environment can be for a small child. As a kid I never considered how dangerous an old mining shaft could be, how quickly one can get stuck in a white out blizzard at altitude, or how common it was to have a bear going through your garage on a monthly basis. The personality of the mountain is a mixture of isolation, beauty and terror, worthy of extreme reverence.

My favorite pastime as a child was to wander the woods surrounding my house and use my imagination to conjure massive invading armies, or perhaps to reenact some sort of Native American tribal scene. I fought those invaders and spirited myself through countless hours that way. One particular day stands out in my memory. I was doing just these activities, not really paying much attention to my surroundings, when I stumbled upon a giant rock face on the lee side of the mountain that was my home. Having never seen this particular spot before, it quickly commanded all of my attention.

Upon further and closer investigation I noticed what looked like a small wooden frame stuck into the side of the giant wall of stone. I quickly realized much to my excitement that it was a door to a mining shaft. Yet what seemed to be a friendly and welcoming adventure at first, soon turned my stomach sour with horror, for the shaft quickly took on an evil and menacing appearance. I had seen nasty old mine shafts before; that wasn’t what had frightened me. It was the frosted air breathing out of the dark endless tunnel that gave me Goosebumps, for it was the middle of July!

Now in the black depths of the ocean lives a fish, Melanocetus johnsonii, commonly known as the angler fish. The Angler fish is special because it will lure other little fish close enough to eat by using a bioluminescent bulb attached to its head.
As I stepped closer to the black opening, my breath began to show in the air as it does in the middle of winter. Transfixed I stared into that endless pool of black as if hypnotized. I couldn’t move my feet, for my leg bones seemed to be made of lead. A second shiver ran down my spine because suddenly the blackness was cut by a barely perceivable glint of sunlight on metal, so faint I wasn’t sure if I had actually seen it. Quick as a cat it flashed again, brighter than before. Being me, curiosity soon overcame the terror in my chest. As I took my first step into the blackness, it glinted again as if urging me forward. Slowly I took one more step, then another. Yet as I made my way further and further in, the glint seemed to get no closer than it had been in the beginning. Finally, looking back I saw just how small the entrance had become for I had walked a good 20 feet into the pit. Then, all at once the frosted air belched out and the terror returned. The urge to flee came suddenly. Out of the dark several feet above the glint appeared two yellow eyes, human in shape but feline in glow. A gurgle rose from my throat in a pathetic attempt to scream. I still to this day have never ever run as hard as I did then.

In ancient Welsh folklore there is mention of spirits that live beneath the ground. Not unlike the Irish leprechaun, these strange mythological creatures were said to stand around two feet high with a grizzly complexion. Known as knockers, these short men would dress in traditional mining garb, and according to legend, would appear in shafts to indirectly harass miners. Mischievous in nature, the knockers would steal mining equipment, cause cave-ins, and break machinery. They were named knockers because of the faintest click click click that would sound right before a cave-in, and it was said that the knockers would make the noise with their hammers while attempting to cave in workers.