In 1867, the two young Cashman sisters sailed from Queenstown (now Cobh), Ireland, to America and took the newly completed transcontinental railroad to San Francisco. With the shortage of women on the frontier, these two beautiful Irish girls were expected to be the center of masculine attention, and that marriage and family would soon follow. One of the sisters soon fell in love and married a San Franciscan, Thomas Cunningham.
Her sister Nellie had a different temperament: independent, ambitious, and looking for adventure. The two sisters would lead very different lives.
Nellie grew restless in San Francisco and, hearing of a gold strike in the Cassiar Mines of British Columbia, took off for the gold fields, one of the few women to do so. Once there, she discovered that the miners suffered greatly from the cold and lack of proper provisions.
The rugged territory demanded great strength and endurance, and Nellie had plenty of that, but she saw the miners around her dying of scurvy. She used her money and persuasiveness to expedite a shipment of potatoes and vegetables to the camp. When the supplies arrived, she saw to it that they were distributed free of charge to the suffering miners, and many lives were saved. Her reputation for kindness and generosity spread throughout the mining camps.
By 1877, the gold had depleted, and Nellie traveled to Tucson and then finally to Tombstone, Arizona. She had enough money saved to establish a very fashionable restaurant there. She became the first woman in the territory to establish her own business.
Tombstone was an especially wild frontier town. A stroll through the cemetery gives testimony to the times. From gravestone to gravestone, one reads a succinct message: “Hanged by the Vigilantes,” or
“Killed by the Apaches.” Only one gravestone, that of M.E. Kellogg, showed that he had “Died a Natural Death.”
This was then a town that would give Nellie full scope for her generosity and compassion.
Despite the mayhem in the streets and the deaths and injuries in the mines, Tombstone led a strange dual life. Its restaurants served the finest foods and French wines. Crystal chandeliers decorated the saloons, and outstanding singers and actors performed in several theaters. Indeed, Shakespearean drama was no stranger there.
Nellie became well known not only for her generosity but for her bravery. In 1884, during a robbery, a random shot killed a pregnant woman– the ultimate crime on the frontier. Five men were rounded up and condemned to hang for the murder.
Tombstone was going to do the deed in style. Printed invitations to the hanging were sent out. However, the courtyard that contained the gallows could not accommodate all those who wanted to attend. An enterprising man built grandstands high enough to see over the walls and sold tickets.
The condemned men, hearing of this, appealed to Nellie. They were willing to pay for their crime but did not want their deaths to be a circus. They had even heard that their bodies were to be mutilated.
Nellie assured them that their deaths would “be dignified.”
The night before the hangings, she and a small band of her miner friends destroyed the grandstands and carted the lumber away. They also took turns for almost two weeks at the gravesite so that the mob could not desecrate the bodies. It took great courage to balk the inflamed populace in its thirst for vengeance.
Three of the condemned men were so impressed by Nellie’s goodness that they converted to Catholicism before their deaths.
She never did find the ‘big one’ but when her great heart ceased in 1925, she was still working a few small claims.”
Another time, Nellie heard that renegade miners were planning to kidnap and murder the superintendent of the Grand Central Mine. Silently, all alone, Nellie drove to the man’s house, put him in her carriage, and drove sedately through the town. A few blocks out of Tombstone, she whipped the horses and drove furiously to the nearest railroad station, where he boarded a train, saving his life.
No one could refuse Nellie. When the poor needed help, she opened her purse and went among the townspeople to collect funds.
She contributed and raised funds to build a Catholic church in nearby Tucson. Although she was a Catholic, no one was ever excluded from her generosity because of religion or race. She did, however, enjoy tweaking the English, but her good-humored jibes usually ended with both sides laughing together.
Her sister and brother-in-law died, and Nellie took in their five small children. She raised them to adulthood as good citizens.
One of the children became a wealthy, successful businessman and the president of several banks.
Nellie had boundless energy. Besides caring for the children, running her business, and doing her good deeds, she still hankered for adventure.
Excited over a rumor of a gold deposit in Mexico, Nellie, ever the optimist, after getting a dependable person to look out for the children, set out with eleven men hoping to strike it big.
She was always a smart dresser, wearing modest high-necked blouses and often a feathered hat perched on her dark curls. However, when on mining forays, Nellie slipped into heavy mining shoes, a rough shirt, and overalls, her hair tucked under a stiff-brimmed Mountie hat.
Though they combed miles in the searing Mexican heat, no gold was discovered. The group ran out of water and was prepared to die—except Nellie. She set off alone and managed to find an old Catholic Mission, where she filled goatskins with water, loaded them on a borrowed burro, and, not even waiting to rest, hurried back to the dying men. Recovering their strength, they returned to Tombstone empty-handed.
Nellie went back to running her restaurant and caring for the children, but in 1897, when the children were grown, she heard of the great Klondike gold strike. She could not resist. It was to be one of the most difficult gold stampedes in history.
Nellie “mushed” and kayaked with the best of them, but was appalled by the suffering of the prospectors. Those who fell ill or were injured had nowhere to go, so Nellie raised and contributed funds for the Nuns to build a hospital. She never did find “the big one,” but when her great heart ceased in 1925, she was still working a few small claims.
Nellie’s legend is that of a strong, pioneering woman of the West, loved by all.
Many men she met, from hard-grubbing miners to successful business people and high officials, asked for her hand in marriage. She refused them all. She was an independent woman who saw that all of humanity’s suffering received her care and love.
Arizona historian Jim Crane confirmed that the high praise I read about Nellie was true and deserved.
“Believe me, we historians have searched diligently and have never found a flaw. She was modest, generous, strong, and virtuous – truly ‘An Angel of the Camps.’”
In 2007, Nellie Cashman was inducted into the National Cowgirl Museum and Hall of Fame in Fort Worth, Texas.
Editor’s Note: This article was originally published in the September 1992 issue of Irish America. ⬥
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