Grandpa John and the Tommyknocker

Grandpa John and the Tommyknocker

Of all the hard-rock miners in Leadville in 1888, Grandpa John Stiverson was special. Why? Because he was the only miner who had talked to a Tommyknocker. How many of you know about Tommyknockers? They are little men, about two feet tall, with long, white beards and pointy ears. I brought along this little one to show you. Tommyknockers inhabit mines and they can either be friends of the miners, or play pranks on them. If they are insulted or ignored, they can become spiteful and harm the miners. Tommyknockers wear miners clothes and boots, and pointy caps.

Tommyknockers were rarely seen but the miners knew they were there because they would tap on the walls of the mine. Some folks believe that the Tommyknockers were the souls of dead miners who had been killed in cave-ins. The mines in those days were not very safe and there were a lot of cave-ins. Some miners believed that a Tommyknocker could cause cave-ins, so they left food and drink in the shafts as peace offerings.

One day as usual, Grandpa John kissed his wife Ruby and went to work in the mine. He took his lantern, pick axe and his shovel, and he had a cart that was pulled by his donkey, Prudence. The mine was a sloping tunnel, not one of the modern shafts dug straight down with horizontal drifts where the digging took place. Grandpa John had shoveled enough ore into the cart to fill it half way when he saw the Tommyknocker walking toward him from deep in the tunnel. As it came nearer, Grandpa John tipped his hat to the sprite in a gesture of respect. The Tommyknocker responded by taking off his cap in what also looked like respect. But John could see a a smile and a twinkle of mischief in the Tommyknocker’s eyes and he was a bit worried. All at once, the sprite jumped into the ore cart and with his cap, swatted Prudence on her backside.

Prudence took off in a trot up the slope toward the mine entrance. The Tommyknocker held on to the swaying cart and cackled with glee. John grabbed his tools and lantern and ran after Prudence and the Tommyknocker. John tried to catch up, but he was slowed down by the weight of his shovel, pick axe and lantern. Prudence finally stopped trotting about a hundred yards from the mouth of the tunnel. When Grandpa John arrived, he was out of breath. He wasn’t mad at the sprite because it wasn’t smart to be disrespectful. He just asked simply, “What did you do that for, Mr. Tommyknocker? I wasn’t finished filling up my ore cart.”

Before the Tommyknocker could answer, John heard a loud rumble from deep in the tunnel. It was a cave-in! The tunnel that he and Prudence had just been in had collapsed!

The Tommyknocker laughed, and said, “That’s why I did it!” John realized then that the Tommyknocker had saved his life. He was immensely grateful! “What can I do to repay you?” Grandpa John asked the Tommyknocker. The tiny man stroked his long white beard and thought for a moment. “I’d like some of Grandma Ruby’s oaten cakes,” he replied. Grandpa John was pleasantly relieved at the simple request. Also, as much as he loved his wife of 20 years, he really couldn’t stand to eat Ruby’s oaten cakes. They never resembled cakes and they were as hard as rocks! Grandpa John smiled and said, “You shall have all the oaten cakes you want! Anything else?” “Yes, a thimble-full of goat’s milk,” the sprite answered. John was again relieved. He owned two goats, so he had fresh milk daily. “I’ll bring you some every day. Is that it?” “Nope, and some whiskey for my pet rat, Angelino,” the Tommyknocker said. John laughed. “You can have all the whiskey that he wants.” The Tommyknocker jumped from the cart and headed back into the dark tunnel. As he was walking out of sight, the Tommyknocker looked back and said “Oh, I don’t know, but Angelino can drink a lot of whiskey! Hee hee hee!”

I want to share a poem with you. This Tommyknocker helped me write it a writer named Myriam Higgins provided the format.

Tap tap knock knock. What’s that sound?

It’s a Tommyknocker knockin’ underneath the ground.

Tap tap knock knock. Tiny little men.

If you treat ‘em nice and feed ‘em, they will be your friend.

Tap tap knock knock. Who goes there?

It’s a Tommyknocker knockin’, so you’d better beware.

Tap tap knock knock. What does he require?

Oaten cakes, goat’s milk, and a belly full of fire.