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The following (auto)biographical sketch excerpt comes from the first installment of Frank B. Converse's "Banjo Reminiscences" series published in The Cadenza in June 1901.
"The Denver City experience mentioned in the Clipper article occured in 1861, and was, I believe, the pioneer of public entertainments in that then chaotic "city" of log cabins, shanties, teepees, and a sparse scattering of hastily erected wooden buildings--the saloons, hotels and gambling houses of the embryo city; the "citzens" a motley, heterogeneous gathering of miners, speculators, prospectors, Mexicans, Indians, cattle drivers, and roughs and toughs from "anywhere;" a typical mining center, where nearly every individual, wearing conspicously as a necessary part of his wardrobe a Navy revolver or two, often supplemented by a "bowie" in his bootleg, was "a law unto himself," and needed but a slight provocation to make up a case for the Coroner.
The Pike's Peak gold excitement was then at it's height, and Denver the general rendezvous for the gold seekers, preparatory to starting for the diggings. At this time the idea of a railroad could hardly have been intimated; but the stampede for Denver was "on;" the cry was "Pike's Peak or bust," and the broad, thoroughly beaten trail leading from St. Joseph, Mo., along the Platte river was white with "Prairie Schooners"--large, heavy, freight-laden wagons, their contents protected by bow-topped white canvas coverings (hence the name), and each drawn by several yoke of oxen, urged to the utmost by their swarthy Mexican drivers, the deafening crack of whose dexteriously applied short-stalked whips, with heavy lashes fifteen to eighteen feet long, raising welts where they struck, caused the poor beasts to cringe and groan even before the blow reached them. But the "schooners" had company. Ox teams, mule teams, push carts, wheelbarrows and all sorts of contrivances on wheels struggled along in the grand cavalcade--all making for the same goal!
(My) journey to Denver was in the company of five others,--Charlie Petrie, an old-time minstrel and bones player, and Joe Gibbs, a fine basso, being of the party. Each contributed toward the purchase of our outfit--a yoke of oxen and a small covered wagon to carry our camp fixtures, provisions, etc., and thus equipped we joined the great procession. Frequently when camping near an Indian village, Petrie and I would go among the teepees and serenade the Indians, but I am pained to confess that while they were charmed by the bones, they were quite indifferent to the banjo.
A forty days tramp brought us to Denver.
In the peaked garret roof of one of the frame houses I have mentioned, on a rudely constructed stage, curtained at one end for a dressing room, and with rough, unplaned benches for our audiences, appeared "Converse and Petrie's World Renowned Minstrels"--the members of which had been hastily recruited from the "flotsam" found floating in the city. Our opening was a grand success; the house was packed and--well--but we gave them their money's worth,--at least so they said; though perhaps it would be "different" if repeated now. But this was then; and though encouraged to remain and "grow up with the country," imperative business compelled me to return to "the States" (as they expressed it), but with a feeling of satisfaction, however, in having pioneered the banjo among the Indian tribes of the plains and at Denver."
"The Denver City experience mentioned in the Clipper article occured in 1861, and was, I believe, the pioneer of public entertainments in that then chaotic "city" of log cabins, shanties, teepees, and a sparse scattering of hastily erected wooden buildings--the saloons, hotels and gambling houses of the embryo city; the "citzens" a motley, heterogeneous gathering of miners, speculators, prospectors, Mexicans, Indians, cattle drivers, and roughs and toughs from "anywhere;" a typical mining center, where nearly every individual, wearing conspicously as a necessary part of his wardrobe a Navy revolver or two, often supplemented by a "bowie" in his bootleg, was "a law unto himself," and needed but a slight provocation to make up a case for the Coroner.
The Pike's Peak gold excitement was then at it's height, and Denver the general rendezvous for the gold seekers, preparatory to starting for the diggings. At this time the idea of a railroad could hardly have been intimated; but the stampede for Denver was "on;" the cry was "Pike's Peak or bust," and the broad, thoroughly beaten trail leading from St. Joseph, Mo., along the Platte river was white with "Prairie Schooners"--large, heavy, freight-laden wagons, their contents protected by bow-topped white canvas coverings (hence the name), and each drawn by several yoke of oxen, urged to the utmost by their swarthy Mexican drivers, the deafening crack of whose dexteriously applied short-stalked whips, with heavy lashes fifteen to eighteen feet long, raising welts where they struck, caused the poor beasts to cringe and groan even before the blow reached them. But the "schooners" had company. Ox teams, mule teams, push carts, wheelbarrows and all sorts of contrivances on wheels struggled along in the grand cavalcade--all making for the same goal!
(My) journey to Denver was in the company of five others,--Charlie Petrie, an old-time minstrel and bones player, and Joe Gibbs, a fine basso, being of the party. Each contributed toward the purchase of our outfit--a yoke of oxen and a small covered wagon to carry our camp fixtures, provisions, etc., and thus equipped we joined the great procession. Frequently when camping near an Indian village, Petrie and I would go among the teepees and serenade the Indians, but I am pained to confess that while they were charmed by the bones, they were quite indifferent to the banjo.
A forty days tramp brought us to Denver.
In the peaked garret roof of one of the frame houses I have mentioned, on a rudely constructed stage, curtained at one end for a dressing room, and with rough, unplaned benches for our audiences, appeared "Converse and Petrie's World Renowned Minstrels"--the members of which had been hastily recruited from the "flotsam" found floating in the city. Our opening was a grand success; the house was packed and--well--but we gave them their money's worth,--at least so they said; though perhaps it would be "different" if repeated now. But this was then; and though encouraged to remain and "grow up with the country," imperative business compelled me to return to "the States" (as they expressed it), but with a feeling of satisfaction, however, in having pioneered the banjo among the Indian tribes of the plains and at Denver."