Hallo, this will be hard for me to speak as I am a man of few words. We do not speak much in my family as there is always so much work to do. Life is very different for me now. I come from Bohemia which is a wonderful place if you are enriched with money. However I am a poor Pecher. In our family that meant we would drain the pitch from the trees and make tar. It is a dirty sticky job. My family has done this for many generations. In our family we scramble to make enough to eat. We are poor peasants, and as a peasant I would be required to join the army and mostly likely be in one of the many wars and get killed. I do not wish to die for some King or another’s land. One of the blessing of being born in Bohemia is most of us are taught to read at least the bible. We like to have theological discussion and Bohemians are creative and smart. I hope I am smart enough to leave for a better opportunity in this place called America. I am not married, while I can interact with men I am shy with women. I am not very handsome or don’t think I am. My hair is brown, I am tall and skinny and I have brown eyes. My sisters teased me and called me stick because I was so thin. I did not tell my family I was leaving for America, it would have been forbidden. I caught a ride to the port and hired on as a deckhand to pay my way to Canada. We landed in Quebec and snuck off the boat. I still had time on my contract but I did not want to be a seaman. In Quebec I found little in the way of jobs. However there were men there in Quebec signing people up to immigrate to a town called Leadville Colorado and promised much money for those willing to mine. I will go, I don’t know if I want to mine, but I do want to make a better life for myself. Who knows I may find me a girl!!

What’s happening? Tim Murphy here.

You have undoubtedly heard from my wife and my loving sister-in-law.  Hen’s teeth those two can jaw! I am sorry to admit I provided them with much to complain about. It’s true; I brought them to Leadville with hopes of making our fortunes and tales of riches! However, I must admit that life has been a lot harder than I had anticipated.

You see, before the blazing fire started, everything in St. Jo, Canada, was going according to plan. Many families, including ours, were left with nothing but ashes when it destroyed the town. All their homes, careers, and hopes were destroyed. Both emotionally and financially, it hurt us a lot. Jobs became scarce and many families battled to make ends meet. When the future appeared to be uncertain, several people, including my family, started looking for new chances in America.

We expected to travel to New York when we left Ireland for the Americas, but fate led us to Canada. Both St. Jo’s and Quebec were flourishing cities, and it was in St. Jo’s that I met the lovely Annette, who is now my wife, at a church luncheon. Her beautiful, thick brown hair and those green eyes that reminded me of naughty pixies made me fall in love at first sight. We both shared the same Catholic faith, which served as the foundation of our community, despite the fact that she was French and I was Irish. Despite having come from diverse homes, our parents supported our love if we agreed to continue being churchgoers.

When I was given the opportunity to work as an engineer in the mines here in Leadville, I was overjoyed. I believed it would be a wonderful experience and a method to prepare us for life. Sadly though, life had other ideas for me. Soon after arriving, I became ill, and the silt and fine mining dust filled my lungs. It was difficult for me to do much but lie in bed and watch over Pat, our young child. Particularly considering that my wife and sister-in-law must handle everything, it feels so unmanly. I’ve started drinking to escape the sadness of my circumstance, and I’m not proud of it. I understand why Annette is upset with me; I don’t blame her. In my drunken stupor, I almost allowed our son to sustain injuries in a fire.

Now that the business has let me go, we risk being evicted from our small house. We don’t have enough money, and I have no idea how to bring in more. It feels like an admission of failure to send my family back to my parents’ house in Massachusetts or Louise to Quebec with her mother.

But, what the heck? I have chosen to swallow my pride after Louise recommended the dress shop concept. While they are at work, I’ll look after Pat while I’m at home. I might even master the art of cooking. Knowing how I tend to burn everything, including beans that wind up smelling like a babe’s shite, Annette says I don’t need to worry about that. I’m determined to provide for my family, even if it requires me to take a backseat to what I had imagined my role to be.

Thank you for listening, and good luck to me as I continue to learn new things and look for ways to contribute.  (Whispering mischievously “I’ve heard rumors about a developing ladies’ society!”)

Hello, I am Annette, Louise’s slightly older sister. If you have read her hello, then you know she traveled with me, my spouse and little boy Patrick to the grand Leadville Colorado. Let me tell you a little of myself. I married my husband Tim Murphy because he was oh so handsome! He is of Irish descent with rich dark hair like ripe cherries. Mama says that I was oh so silly to say a man has hair the color of cherries. Let us just say, with his cherry hair, pale blue eyes with shards of silver and fair skin he is very tasty. Mama was not happy with this match. She was furious as she had invested a great deal of our family’s finances for me to be taught by the nuns to prepare me for a proper marriage. Many girls are not taught to read, write, and do sums as well as to sew and be competent in needlepoint. She did the same with Louise. She had to with Louise for my sister is what you can charitably call handsome. Frankly, I think Mama sent her along with me in hopes of finding a man desperate for a woman. Such a man will appreciate her handsomeness. Louise wants us to open a dress shop to bring in income as if I need more work. Taking care of a sick husband and a child isn’t enough? When I married, the priest said for better or worse, I did not know it would be immediately for worse. My handsome husband is tired and grumpy all the time. Bring me this, bring me that. I know he is angry and unhappy at himself for being ill. This terrible country we are in has sapped all his strength. What started out as a adventure has turned into a nightmare. The green dust that grinds into you pores alone can make one mad. Constantly sweeping and cleaning just to survive. I am sure you do not wish to hear me go on and on with my complaints. Perhaps Louise has a point. Opening a dress shop and perhaps becoming atelier would do me good. We would meet the ladies and visitors of the town, hear the gossip, and perhaps make a fine income. Chastain’s has a nice ring to it!!

Bojour, I’m Louise Chastain. I’m from Quebec City, and I’m twenty years old. My ancestors originated from St. Jo’s, which was close to where we lived. Tragically, a terrible fire engulfed the town and burned much of it to the ground. There were fatalities, property damage, and job losses. Many of our friends moved to the Americas in search of better possibilities.

Among those who chose to travel were my sister Annette and her husband Tim Murphy. My mother requested that I go to Leadville, Colorado with them in 1878 along with my young nephew Patrick. My mother envisioned it as an opportunity-rich, thrilling journey that may also aid in my search for a husband and a place to call home.

Unfortunately, the last two years have been difficult and chilling. We frequently find ourselves starving, and I can feel my stomach emptying. I no longer identify as a juene fille at the age of twenty; instead, I feel more like a matron. We accompanied Tim to Leadville after he received an offer to work as an engineer in the silver mines. My responsibility was to travel with Annette and assist with Patrick’s care.

Tim, however, became unwell and has been out of work for a while. As much as I would like to go back to Quebec, we don’t have the wherewithal to do so. I can’t stand the idea of going hungry, but he insists on staying. I have few options as a single woman and am conscious of how dependent we are on men to survive. I find it frustrating because if a man is unable to work, it is on to us women to find alternative means of support.

I lack the attractiveness to be a dirty dove or a can-can girl, and I have no desire to work as a washerwoman like a slave. I frequently feel confined by the social restrictions placed on my sex. I often find myself scratching my arm till it bleeds out of irritation and fury while attempting to control my emotions and keep from crying.

Even though I’m French, my mother was not impressed with my culinary skills, and my brothers frequently offered to take over when it was my turn. Ah, memories of home. I do, however, have certain talents because of the schooling I acquired from the nuns. Thanks to the nuns’ strict instruction, I have perfected my sewing and lace-making skills, am proficient in math and reading, and can perform sums.

I’ve persuaded my sister that in order to increase our income, we need to create a store. We may provide sewing and tailoring services there for the local entertainers as well as the wives of the miners and company owners. We look forward to meeting other women in our business, discussing local gossip, and letting Leadville’s ladies know that the Chastain sisters are the ones to visit.

I’m hoping to overcome the obstacles and carve out a better future for my sister and I in this rough and opportunity-rich town of Leadville.

Welcome to my adventure of the Leadville Ladies Society.