Rock Springs Rocket, Feb 2, 1923
James M. Puffer, Aged 94, Answered the Final Summons
Another of Wyoming’s sturdy pioneers answered the final summons with the death of James Monroe Puffer last Monday evening at the home of his daughter, Mrs. L. Allred on West Flat, Rock Springs. Deceased was in his 95th year, and for the past seven years had resided with his daughter, four of which the aged man has been an invalid, but during which the burden of his years was made light by the kindly and loving ministrations of his daughter. Before coming to Rock Springs deceased was a resident of Linwood, Utah, on the Wyoming border.
The life of Mr. Puffer is romantic. Born in Michigan over 94 years ago, he left home at an early age and traveled extensively, even to the Orient. The open and pioneer life of the West appealed to him, and he settled in Wyoming when it was a frontier country, and he figured in its early history most conspicuously.
Funeral services for the highly respected pioneer were held at the Allred home last Wednesday afternoon at 2 o’clock, Rev. W.P. Napier of the Congregational church in charge. Interment was in the local cemetery.
___
History - He lived in Wyoming with his daughter Rose Solomon. The following account of his life was sent by one of his sons: "He was in California when gold was exciting all in 1849. He was considered one of the bravest and handsomest men of his day. When thirteen years old, he ran away from home and enlisted on a sailing vessel. He sailed as far north as anyone had gone at that time; was gone on a voyage seven years. When but a young man he was with Kit Carson and those fellows and they called him "the Kid". When the Indians were so bad, he was foremost among those to quell the riots and save families from being massacred. He was U.S. marshal for a time. When Lincoln was assassinated some men were running up the flag and celebrating, and were going to fire a salute. He drew his six-shooter and dared then to do it. His daring and patriotism served his purpose and they slunk off without celebrating. His bravery, daring and cunning, when the Indians were so bad, won for him no little fame. If he could have his life history told, it would make a book to command the admiration and love of his countrymen. He has had many a fight, but has never been whipped squarely in his life. He introduced waltzing in Braver first. He could waltz with a tumbler of water on his head and not spill any. He was an intimate friend of Matt Cullen, the millionaire. He has always had a good racehorse or two. Resided in Linwood, UT.
Some years ago I went into a bank in Vernal, Utah, which is situated quite near the Ute Indian Reservation, and applied for a personal loan. I sat down at the loan manager's desk and filled out an application. The loan manager was a typical westerner, decked out in bolo tie and white Stetson hat. I handed him the completed application and after perusing it, he passed it to a Native American employee at an adjoining desk. "Hey, Tonto," he said to the Indian, "process this for me, will you?" The Ute hurried off to comply. "Did I hear you just call that man 'Tonto'?" I asked. "Why, yes I did. Just a little nickname I have for him." "Isn't that just a bit condescending?" I queried. He leaned back in his chair, grinned, and pushed his Stetson back on his forehead. "Not at all. Not at all. You see, I am the Loan Arranger, and he's my faithful sidekick. That's why I call him Tonto." His name was James Monroe Puffer, but to all and sundry who knew him he was simply Old Man Puffer. My grandfather, Willard Schofield, had known him in Beaver, in Southern Utah, even before they came together to Daggett County in Northeastern Utah in 1895. They were related by marriage through the Twitchell family. Old Man Puffer had been a pioneer settler at Beaver. He had befriended an old Indian named Beaver Adz, for whom the town and county of Beaver was named. Old Beaver was not a "local" Indian. He had come into the region before the arrival of the Mormons with a company of Canadian fur trappers, liked what he saw, and decided to remain. When he met Puffer, they became inseparable friends and local legends. ~
Old Beaver was a noted tracker. He was often employed during the Indian wars to track renegade Utes and rustled livestock. Old Man Puffer frequently accompanied him and learned the secrets of tracking from the master. My grandfather often recounted the story of Puffer's first tracking experience with Beaver Adz. Sometime during the night, someone had driven off livestock from the town. Old Beaver was called for to track down the culprits, and he took with him his proteg6, Puffer. It was a cold and wintry day. After only a few miles on the trail Beaver suddenly stopped, examined the tracks, and reported there were three men, not Indians but Whites. "How can you tell that?" Puffer asked. "Three horses have iron shoes," Beaver replied. "White men." A few miles farther on Beaver stopped again and examined signs in the snow. "One man old. Two men are young." he said. Puffer was amazed. "How could you possibly tell that?" Beaver pointed to three yellow stains in a snowbank. Beaver kneeled down and pointed to the tracks and the stains. "One man he pee close to shoes: him old. Other two pee far out: them young." When the three men were finally captured, it was found they were an elderly father and his two young sons. Old Man Puffer settled in the little town of Manila (then known appropriately as Sandtown) in 1896. He was a familiar sight on the streets for many years. He dressed in a curious combination of buckskin and corduroy, chewed tobacco and spat it out between words, and was more often drunk than not. He trapped beaver and bobcats for a living, and reeked of animal fat. He bathed once a year whether he needed it or not. His habits and behavior was generally frowned upon, especially by the staunch church- goers and member of the Ladies' Relief Society. The religious ladies set out on a personal and zealous mission to reform him and, if possible, convert him to the faith in order to save his soul. It was an exercise in futility. They tried persuasion, then shamed him, but he obstinately chewed and drank and cursed his way toward damnation. The ladies warned him sternly that his evil habits would be the death of him, and that tobacco and whiskey would be his undoing. James Monroe Puffer died at the age of 91. When he died the good ladies of the Relief Society, with all proper self-righteous acclaim, stated: "We told him that his evil habits would be the death of himl" ~ Kerry Ross Boren
James M. Puffer, Aged 94, Answered the Final Summons
Another of Wyoming’s sturdy pioneers answered the final summons with the death of James Monroe Puffer last Monday evening at the home of his daughter, Mrs. L. Allred on West Flat, Rock Springs. Deceased was in his 95th year, and for the past seven years had resided with his daughter, four of which the aged man has been an invalid, but during which the burden of his years was made light by the kindly and loving ministrations of his daughter. Before coming to Rock Springs deceased was a resident of Linwood, Utah, on the Wyoming border.
The life of Mr. Puffer is romantic. Born in Michigan over 94 years ago, he left home at an early age and traveled extensively, even to the Orient. The open and pioneer life of the West appealed to him, and he settled in Wyoming when it was a frontier country, and he figured in its early history most conspicuously.
Funeral services for the highly respected pioneer were held at the Allred home last Wednesday afternoon at 2 o’clock, Rev. W.P. Napier of the Congregational church in charge. Interment was in the local cemetery.
___
History - He lived in Wyoming with his daughter Rose Solomon. The following account of his life was sent by one of his sons: "He was in California when gold was exciting all in 1849. He was considered one of the bravest and handsomest men of his day. When thirteen years old, he ran away from home and enlisted on a sailing vessel. He sailed as far north as anyone had gone at that time; was gone on a voyage seven years. When but a young man he was with Kit Carson and those fellows and they called him "the Kid". When the Indians were so bad, he was foremost among those to quell the riots and save families from being massacred. He was U.S. marshal for a time. When Lincoln was assassinated some men were running up the flag and celebrating, and were going to fire a salute. He drew his six-shooter and dared then to do it. His daring and patriotism served his purpose and they slunk off without celebrating. His bravery, daring and cunning, when the Indians were so bad, won for him no little fame. If he could have his life history told, it would make a book to command the admiration and love of his countrymen. He has had many a fight, but has never been whipped squarely in his life. He introduced waltzing in Braver first. He could waltz with a tumbler of water on his head and not spill any. He was an intimate friend of Matt Cullen, the millionaire. He has always had a good racehorse or two. Resided in Linwood, UT.
Some years ago I went into a bank in Vernal, Utah, which is situated quite near the Ute Indian Reservation, and applied for a personal loan. I sat down at the loan manager's desk and filled out an application. The loan manager was a typical westerner, decked out in bolo tie and white Stetson hat. I handed him the completed application and after perusing it, he passed it to a Native American employee at an adjoining desk. "Hey, Tonto," he said to the Indian, "process this for me, will you?" The Ute hurried off to comply. "Did I hear you just call that man 'Tonto'?" I asked. "Why, yes I did. Just a little nickname I have for him." "Isn't that just a bit condescending?" I queried. He leaned back in his chair, grinned, and pushed his Stetson back on his forehead. "Not at all. Not at all. You see, I am the Loan Arranger, and he's my faithful sidekick. That's why I call him Tonto." His name was James Monroe Puffer, but to all and sundry who knew him he was simply Old Man Puffer. My grandfather, Willard Schofield, had known him in Beaver, in Southern Utah, even before they came together to Daggett County in Northeastern Utah in 1895. They were related by marriage through the Twitchell family. Old Man Puffer had been a pioneer settler at Beaver. He had befriended an old Indian named Beaver Adz, for whom the town and county of Beaver was named. Old Beaver was not a "local" Indian. He had come into the region before the arrival of the Mormons with a company of Canadian fur trappers, liked what he saw, and decided to remain. When he met Puffer, they became inseparable friends and local legends. ~
Old Beaver was a noted tracker. He was often employed during the Indian wars to track renegade Utes and rustled livestock. Old Man Puffer frequently accompanied him and learned the secrets of tracking from the master. My grandfather often recounted the story of Puffer's first tracking experience with Beaver Adz. Sometime during the night, someone had driven off livestock from the town. Old Beaver was called for to track down the culprits, and he took with him his proteg6, Puffer. It was a cold and wintry day. After only a few miles on the trail Beaver suddenly stopped, examined the tracks, and reported there were three men, not Indians but Whites. "How can you tell that?" Puffer asked. "Three horses have iron shoes," Beaver replied. "White men." A few miles farther on Beaver stopped again and examined signs in the snow. "One man old. Two men are young." he said. Puffer was amazed. "How could you possibly tell that?" Beaver pointed to three yellow stains in a snowbank. Beaver kneeled down and pointed to the tracks and the stains. "One man he pee close to shoes: him old. Other two pee far out: them young." When the three men were finally captured, it was found they were an elderly father and his two young sons. Old Man Puffer settled in the little town of Manila (then known appropriately as Sandtown) in 1896. He was a familiar sight on the streets for many years. He dressed in a curious combination of buckskin and corduroy, chewed tobacco and spat it out between words, and was more often drunk than not. He trapped beaver and bobcats for a living, and reeked of animal fat. He bathed once a year whether he needed it or not. His habits and behavior was generally frowned upon, especially by the staunch church- goers and member of the Ladies' Relief Society. The religious ladies set out on a personal and zealous mission to reform him and, if possible, convert him to the faith in order to save his soul. It was an exercise in futility. They tried persuasion, then shamed him, but he obstinately chewed and drank and cursed his way toward damnation. The ladies warned him sternly that his evil habits would be the death of him, and that tobacco and whiskey would be his undoing. James Monroe Puffer died at the age of 91. When he died the good ladies of the Relief Society, with all proper self-righteous acclaim, stated: "We told him that his evil habits would be the death of himl" ~ Kerry Ross Boren
Rock Springs Rocket, Feb 2, 1923
James M. Puffer, Aged 94, Answered the Final Summons
Another of Wyoming’s sturdy pioneers answered the final summons with the death of James Monroe Puffer last Monday evening at the home of his daughter, Mrs. L. Allred on West Flat, Rock Springs. Deceased was in his 95th year, and for the past seven years had resided with his daughter, four of which the aged man has been an invalid, but during which the burden of his years was made light by the kindly and loving ministrations of his daughter. Before coming to Rock Springs deceased was a resident of Linwood, Utah, on the Wyoming border.
The life of Mr. Puffer is romantic. Born in Michigan over 94 years ago, he left home at an early age and traveled extensively, even to the Orient. The open and pioneer life of the West appealed to him, and he settled in Wyoming when it was a frontier country, and he figured in its early history most conspicuously.
Funeral services for the highly respected pioneer were held at the Allred home last Wednesday afternoon at 2 o’clock, Rev. W.P. Napier of the Congregational church in charge. Interment was in the local cemetery.
___
History - He lived in Wyoming with his daughter Rose Solomon. The following account of his life was sent by one of his sons: "He was in California when gold was exciting all in 1849. He was considered one of the bravest and handsomest men of his day. When thirteen years old, he ran away from home and enlisted on a sailing vessel. He sailed as far north as anyone had gone at that time; was gone on a voyage seven years. When but a young man he was with Kit Carson and those fellows and they called him "the Kid". When the Indians were so bad, he was foremost among those to quell the riots and save families from being massacred. He was U.S. marshal for a time. When Lincoln was assassinated some men were running up the flag and celebrating, and were going to fire a salute. He drew his six-shooter and dared then to do it. His daring and patriotism served his purpose and they slunk off without celebrating. His bravery, daring and cunning, when the Indians were so bad, won for him no little fame. If he could have his life history told, it would make a book to command the admiration and love of his countrymen. He has had many a fight, but has never been whipped squarely in his life. He introduced waltzing in Braver first. He could waltz with a tumbler of water on his head and not spill any. He was an intimate friend of Matt Cullen, the millionaire. He has always had a good racehorse or two. Resided in Linwood, UT.
Some years ago I went into a bank in Vernal, Utah, which is situated quite near the Ute Indian Reservation, and applied for a personal loan. I sat down at the loan manager's desk and filled out an application. The loan manager was a typical westerner, decked out in bolo tie and white Stetson hat. I handed him the completed application and after perusing it, he passed it to a Native American employee at an adjoining desk. "Hey, Tonto," he said to the Indian, "process this for me, will you?" The Ute hurried off to comply. "Did I hear you just call that man 'Tonto'?" I asked. "Why, yes I did. Just a little nickname I have for him." "Isn't that just a bit condescending?" I queried. He leaned back in his chair, grinned, and pushed his Stetson back on his forehead. "Not at all. Not at all. You see, I am the Loan Arranger, and he's my faithful sidekick. That's why I call him Tonto." His name was James Monroe Puffer, but to all and sundry who knew him he was simply Old Man Puffer. My grandfather, Willard Schofield, had known him in Beaver, in Southern Utah, even before they came together to Daggett County in Northeastern Utah in 1895. They were related by marriage through the Twitchell family. Old Man Puffer had been a pioneer settler at Beaver. He had befriended an old Indian named Beaver Adz, for whom the town and county of Beaver was named. Old Beaver was not a "local" Indian. He had come into the region before the arrival of the Mormons with a company of Canadian fur trappers, liked what he saw, and decided to remain. When he met Puffer, they became inseparable friends and local legends. ~
Old Beaver was a noted tracker. He was often employed during the Indian wars to track renegade Utes and rustled livestock. Old Man Puffer frequently accompanied him and learned the secrets of tracking from the master. My grandfather often recounted the story of Puffer's first tracking experience with Beaver Adz. Sometime during the night, someone had driven off livestock from the town. Old Beaver was called for to track down the culprits, and he took with him his proteg6, Puffer. It was a cold and wintry day. After only a few miles on the trail Beaver suddenly stopped, examined the tracks, and reported there were three men, not Indians but Whites. "How can you tell that?" Puffer asked. "Three horses have iron shoes," Beaver replied. "White men." A few miles farther on Beaver stopped again and examined signs in the snow. "One man old. Two men are young." he said. Puffer was amazed. "How could you possibly tell that?" Beaver pointed to three yellow stains in a snowbank. Beaver kneeled down and pointed to the tracks and the stains. "One man he pee close to shoes: him old. Other two pee far out: them young." When the three men were finally captured, it was found they were an elderly father and his two young sons. Old Man Puffer settled in the little town of Manila (then known appropriately as Sandtown) in 1896. He was a familiar sight on the streets for many years. He dressed in a curious combination of buckskin and corduroy, chewed tobacco and spat it out between words, and was more often drunk than not. He trapped beaver and bobcats for a living, and reeked of animal fat. He bathed once a year whether he needed it or not. His habits and behavior was generally frowned upon, especially by the staunch church- goers and member of the Ladies' Relief Society. The religious ladies set out on a personal and zealous mission to reform him and, if possible, convert him to the faith in order to save his soul. It was an exercise in futility. They tried persuasion, then shamed him, but he obstinately chewed and drank and cursed his way toward damnation. The ladies warned him sternly that his evil habits would be the death of him, and that tobacco and whiskey would be his undoing. James Monroe Puffer died at the age of 91. When he died the good ladies of the Relief Society, with all proper self-righteous acclaim, stated: "We told him that his evil habits would be the death of himl" ~ Kerry Ross Boren
James M. Puffer, Aged 94, Answered the Final Summons
Another of Wyoming’s sturdy pioneers answered the final summons with the death of James Monroe Puffer last Monday evening at the home of his daughter, Mrs. L. Allred on West Flat, Rock Springs. Deceased was in his 95th year, and for the past seven years had resided with his daughter, four of which the aged man has been an invalid, but during which the burden of his years was made light by the kindly and loving ministrations of his daughter. Before coming to Rock Springs deceased was a resident of Linwood, Utah, on the Wyoming border.
The life of Mr. Puffer is romantic. Born in Michigan over 94 years ago, he left home at an early age and traveled extensively, even to the Orient. The open and pioneer life of the West appealed to him, and he settled in Wyoming when it was a frontier country, and he figured in its early history most conspicuously.
Funeral services for the highly respected pioneer were held at the Allred home last Wednesday afternoon at 2 o’clock, Rev. W.P. Napier of the Congregational church in charge. Interment was in the local cemetery.
___
History - He lived in Wyoming with his daughter Rose Solomon. The following account of his life was sent by one of his sons: "He was in California when gold was exciting all in 1849. He was considered one of the bravest and handsomest men of his day. When thirteen years old, he ran away from home and enlisted on a sailing vessel. He sailed as far north as anyone had gone at that time; was gone on a voyage seven years. When but a young man he was with Kit Carson and those fellows and they called him "the Kid". When the Indians were so bad, he was foremost among those to quell the riots and save families from being massacred. He was U.S. marshal for a time. When Lincoln was assassinated some men were running up the flag and celebrating, and were going to fire a salute. He drew his six-shooter and dared then to do it. His daring and patriotism served his purpose and they slunk off without celebrating. His bravery, daring and cunning, when the Indians were so bad, won for him no little fame. If he could have his life history told, it would make a book to command the admiration and love of his countrymen. He has had many a fight, but has never been whipped squarely in his life. He introduced waltzing in Braver first. He could waltz with a tumbler of water on his head and not spill any. He was an intimate friend of Matt Cullen, the millionaire. He has always had a good racehorse or two. Resided in Linwood, UT.
Some years ago I went into a bank in Vernal, Utah, which is situated quite near the Ute Indian Reservation, and applied for a personal loan. I sat down at the loan manager's desk and filled out an application. The loan manager was a typical westerner, decked out in bolo tie and white Stetson hat. I handed him the completed application and after perusing it, he passed it to a Native American employee at an adjoining desk. "Hey, Tonto," he said to the Indian, "process this for me, will you?" The Ute hurried off to comply. "Did I hear you just call that man 'Tonto'?" I asked. "Why, yes I did. Just a little nickname I have for him." "Isn't that just a bit condescending?" I queried. He leaned back in his chair, grinned, and pushed his Stetson back on his forehead. "Not at all. Not at all. You see, I am the Loan Arranger, and he's my faithful sidekick. That's why I call him Tonto." His name was James Monroe Puffer, but to all and sundry who knew him he was simply Old Man Puffer. My grandfather, Willard Schofield, had known him in Beaver, in Southern Utah, even before they came together to Daggett County in Northeastern Utah in 1895. They were related by marriage through the Twitchell family. Old Man Puffer had been a pioneer settler at Beaver. He had befriended an old Indian named Beaver Adz, for whom the town and county of Beaver was named. Old Beaver was not a "local" Indian. He had come into the region before the arrival of the Mormons with a company of Canadian fur trappers, liked what he saw, and decided to remain. When he met Puffer, they became inseparable friends and local legends. ~
Old Beaver was a noted tracker. He was often employed during the Indian wars to track renegade Utes and rustled livestock. Old Man Puffer frequently accompanied him and learned the secrets of tracking from the master. My grandfather often recounted the story of Puffer's first tracking experience with Beaver Adz. Sometime during the night, someone had driven off livestock from the town. Old Beaver was called for to track down the culprits, and he took with him his proteg6, Puffer. It was a cold and wintry day. After only a few miles on the trail Beaver suddenly stopped, examined the tracks, and reported there were three men, not Indians but Whites. "How can you tell that?" Puffer asked. "Three horses have iron shoes," Beaver replied. "White men." A few miles farther on Beaver stopped again and examined signs in the snow. "One man old. Two men are young." he said. Puffer was amazed. "How could you possibly tell that?" Beaver pointed to three yellow stains in a snowbank. Beaver kneeled down and pointed to the tracks and the stains. "One man he pee close to shoes: him old. Other two pee far out: them young." When the three men were finally captured, it was found they were an elderly father and his two young sons. Old Man Puffer settled in the little town of Manila (then known appropriately as Sandtown) in 1896. He was a familiar sight on the streets for many years. He dressed in a curious combination of buckskin and corduroy, chewed tobacco and spat it out between words, and was more often drunk than not. He trapped beaver and bobcats for a living, and reeked of animal fat. He bathed once a year whether he needed it or not. His habits and behavior was generally frowned upon, especially by the staunch church- goers and member of the Ladies' Relief Society. The religious ladies set out on a personal and zealous mission to reform him and, if possible, convert him to the faith in order to save his soul. It was an exercise in futility. They tried persuasion, then shamed him, but he obstinately chewed and drank and cursed his way toward damnation. The ladies warned him sternly that his evil habits would be the death of him, and that tobacco and whiskey would be his undoing. James Monroe Puffer died at the age of 91. When he died the good ladies of the Relief Society, with all proper self-righteous acclaim, stated: "We told him that his evil habits would be the death of himl" ~ Kerry Ross Boren
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