The Delaware Canal

by Marie Murphy Duess

  Chapter 7

  The Mules

  It has been said that boat captains’ mules were almost as important to them as their children. Mules were part of the canalboat team, working as hard as the captain and mule driver—sometimes harder. Where the men and little boys slept in the tiny cabins of the boats or sometimes on deck, exposed to the elements, the mules were well taken care of and put up in the numerous stables along the canal. It cost fifteen cents to stable one mule at night, twenty-five cents for two mules, and the captains didn’t hesitate to pay the price.

  Because of their importance, when a mule became lame or died, the canal men had no choice but to purchase another one for their team. Mule teams would cost anywhere from $300 to $400, and the better the quality of the mules, the more the boatmen could brag. They were an investment, and because of their importance, a canal man sometimes treated them with more deference than he did his own family. Losing a mule to lameness or death cost a boatman dearly; in fact, losing a mule and having to replace it would negate the amount he would earn from a round trip hauling coal.

  Half Horse, Half Donkey, All Muscle and Brains

  The fact that festivals have been held across the United States strictly to honor mules is testament to their worth. In Columbia, Tennessee, they have even crowned a special mule each April as king for a day during what they call a Mulesta, and mules from around the countryside parade together to the courthouse, where a girl places a jeweled crown between the king’s long ears.51

  A mule’s dam is a horse and his sire is a donkey, and it appears that most mules inherit the best qualities from both. He has the strength, courage and speed of the horse, and the patience, long ears and sure-footedness of the donkey. A mule has the ability to grow sleek and strong on nothing but grass. Some say he is stubborn, but most muleteers call it wisdom. If his load is too heavy, he expects the mule driver to lighten it. If he’s been put to work for too long, he stops until he’s rested. If the pasture in which he’s eating is hilly, he eats uphill so he won’t have to bend too far down. And if the weather is unbearably warm, he slows his pace—whether the human driving him likes it or not.

  Horses will work themselves into exhaustion and will dash blindly over a cliff, but mules practice moderation instinctively—they don’t overeat and they rest when they need to. They endure heat better, they aren’t gourmet eaters—plain clean hay or grass is good enough for them—and they rarely have hoof problems, as their hooves are strong, tough, flexible and don’t split or chip as a horse’s will. They even live longer than most horses, and they excel in physical soundness.

  Additionally, the mule is easier to breed than its counterpart, called a hinny, which is the offspring of a male horse and a female donkey. Both are almost always sterile, except in very rare cases, which is a result of the differing number of chromosomes of the two species. Donkeys have sixty-two chromosomes and horses have sixty-four.

  The mule was introduced to this country when George Washington heard of the exceptional abilities of the mules that the Catalonian donkeys in Spain sired. The king of Spain was honored by President Washington’s interest and sent two of his finest as a gift to the new country. One died onboard the ship during the passage, but Washington was thrilled with the other one when it was presented. “From him,” President Washington said, “I hope to secure a race of extraordinary goodness which will stock the country. He is indeed a Royal Gift, and henceforward that shall be his name.”52

  Americans who saw the offspring of Royal Gift working on Washington’s farm were amazed to find how durable Washington’s new mules were. They wanted to breed their own mares with Royal Gift, and soon Virginia’s farms were being plowed and cultivated by Royal Gift’s “sons and daughters.”

  Owners of working animals prefer mules to horses since their skin is harder and less sensitive than horses’ skin, and they show a natural resistance to disease and insects. Mules have a combination of hair types, with coarse main hair and a tail more like a horse than a donkey, and they don’t have pronounced arches to their necks. Their bray is mixed with that of a horse’s whinny, and they come in different sizes and shapes. There are miniature mules under thirty-six inches and others that can measure up to seventeen hands. It is interesting to note that they can also strike out with any one of their hooves and in any direction, which many canal mule drivers found out the hard way.

  They are the perfect work animal. They have a strong sense of self-preservation, which is probably why they last longer than horses, and people who have worked with them for years come to heed their mule’s actions.

  Pets of the Mines

  Mules were used extensively in the coal mines. Because of their intelligence, they knew what to do even without a mule driver leading them. When young boys were sent into the mines to handle the mules, they were told to “watch the mule and learn something.”53

  Mules were stabled underground in the mines where boys would care for them. They were rarely brought above ground after being put to work in the mines. Courtesy of Robin G. Lightly, Mineral Resources program manager, Bureau of Mining and Reclamation, PA Department of Environmental Protection.

  The mules’ compact builds were perfect for working in the narrow passageways of the mines. They lived deep in the mines, in stables that were cut out of rock and other materials located near the “cage,” where the miners entered and left. Some never saw the light of day, which is disturbing considering how much they love to roll in the grass and stretch their muscles after a long day of work. Yet, the mine bosses knew that the mules were important to the productivity of the mines, and the animals were well cared for, perhaps even more so than the human workforce. The stables were cleaned out daily and the mules were combed, checked for sores and fed well on oats, corn and alfalfa.

  The boys who took care of the mules usually became very close to the animals, and some of them would even ask their mothers to pack sandwiches or fruit for their mules when extra food was available. Not that it was necessary since the mules would help themselves to whatever was in the boys’ lunchboxes—eggs, pork chops, bananas, bread crusts. The boys even shared plugs of tobacco with their mules, and some of the mules grew so addicted to the tobacco that they refused to work until they were given their share.54

  According to Susan Campbell Bartoletti’s book, Growing Up in Coal County, mineworkers came to depend on the intelligence of the mules and their good memories. Miners believed that mules knew their way through the tunnels better than anyone else did, and if they lost their way, they unharnessed the mule and allowed the animal to lead them to safety.

  Their intelligence could be frustrating, however, since they knew exactly how many cars they were supposed to pull, and should a driver sneak another one on the train, the mule wouldn’t budge until it was removed. It never paid for a mule driver to be mean to a mule—the animal never forgot and usually got even no matter how long it had to wait to do so. Weeks after a boy would twist a mule’s ear or beat him with a stick, he could count on receiving a kick in the stomach or seat of his pants.

  Four-legged Canallers

  Mine mules’ lives were very different from those of the boat-pulling mules, just as life was different for the boys who drove the mules along the scenic canal than for those who worked in the black, dank atmosphere of the mines. Yet close relationships developed between the humans and the mules above ground just as they did below.

  The mules that walked the canal were usually better “dressed,” too. Canallers would decorate their mules’ harnesses with bells that jingled a melodious tune. The bells came in useful when a boat moved through dense fog—the boatman at the rudder could steer by listing to the sound of the bells. Many of the mules wore straw hats that were tied under their chins with holes cut out on the brim to make room for their ears.

  Sensible boatmen looked down on others who were cruel to their mules. They knew the invaluable contribution mules made in keeping the boats moving along the canal, and a good mule team, o
nce it was trained properly, could travel the towpath and pull a boat without a driver for long stretches between locks.

  In an article in the Bulletin, Grant G. Emery, once a canalboat captain, told reporter Henry R. Darling:

  A half decent mule with any brains at all was a lot better than a horse. After a couple of trips, the mules knew the canal as well as we did. They knew when to start, stop, and slow down. You didn’t drive the mules. You let them go by themselves.

  Inspectors made regular rounds on the towpath to check the condition of the mules, and a captain could be arrested for improper treatment of his mule. Emery recalled in Bill Yoder’s Delaware Canal Journal:

  They had a woman down there, she’d make you stop the mules and lift the collar; and, if there was a sore on his shoulder, you had to take that mule out, you couldn’t use him. They’d slap a fine on you. She was all through the Delaware.55

  Emery was referring to Eva Huston, who was the SPCA representative on the Delaware Canal at the time. Eva’s concern was well-founded considering the complicated tack the boat-pulling mules had to wear, which included harnesses, fly nets in the summer and waterproof blankets to cover their backs and shoulders in stormy weather.

  Of course, mules didn’t always need someone else to “speak” for them when they weren’t happy. Many mule drivers received a swift kick that would send them into the canal, and if the hoof hit them in the wrong place, it could mean a serious—or even fatal—injury.

  Normally there would be a team of two mules, often three, and occasionally a horse would be part of the team. They were harnessed in tandem, with the lead mule in front and the second mule or horse—called the shafter—behind the lead. There was what was called a spreader, which kept the traces (lines) spread between the first and second mule to protect their legs from becoming chafed. The mule that was attached to the towline was harnessed to a cross stick called a stretcher.

  The mules would work a sixteen-hour day, resting only when the boat went through a lock, and they pulled their load at a steady pace of 2 to 4 miles per hour. They made the round trip from Mauch Chunk to Bristol and back, which was 212 miles, in seven or eight days. At the end of the day, when their harnesses were removed, they would lie down in the grass and roll in great delight, twisting their necks and flexing their legs. This was their way of relaxing, and it also revived them. In fact, if a boat was close to a lock or at the end of the canal near Bristol, but the mules were showing fatigue (and when they were tired, no amount of pulling, prodding or cajoling would get them to move), boatmen would unharness the mules, allow them to roll in the grass and then hitch them up again to make the last few miles to the basin of the canal.

  Although feed bags were attached to their harnesses every four hours, sometimes mules that weren’t muzzled would stop along the towpath to graze. They were especially fond of eating poison ivy. And, like the mules that lived and worked in the mines, boat-pulling mules were just as fond of tobacco. If a mule driver was careless enough to leave his tobacco in his back pocket, the lead mule would pull it out with his teeth, and trying to get it back could result in a swift kick.

  Boatmen stabled their mules at night in private or company-owned stables along the canal. It cost fifteen cents to stable a mule for the night; twenty-five cents for two mules. Courtesy of Jim and Tina Greenwood.

  The New Hope Canal Boat Company, with the help of Captain Dave, mule driver Charles and mules Dot, Dolly, Joe and Daffodil, keeps canal history alive during interpretive canalboat rides in New Hope. Author’s collection.

  Mules weren’t fond of water, which also made them perfect for canal work. Where a horse might decide to take a swim in the canal, the mule would back away from it. They took drinks at overflows and sometimes in the canal, but kept a safe distance.

  Occasionally, and always with great chaos involved, mules would fall or be pulled into the canal. If one mule went into the canal, the other was bound to follow since their tack bound them together, and if they weren’t assisted out immediately, they would drown. When it happened, the mule driver or captain would try to cut the traces as quickly as possible, because the loss of a mule—or worse, a team—meant a loss that a captain may not be able to recoup.

  The great inventor and head of the Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company, Josiah White, found the intelligence of mules very interesting. As mentioned in an earlier chapter, when he completed the gravity railroad in Mauch Chunk, White decided that the mules that worked outside the mines would be carried down the mountain in specially built cars—called “wagons”—on the loaded train in order to save time. Once the coal was unloaded from the train, the mules would pull the empty cars back up to the mine. During an annual report of the Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company, White included a note about the mules. It read:

  So strong was their attachment to riding down, that in one instance, when they were sent up with the coal waggons [sic], without their mule waggons, the hands could not drive them down, and were under the necessity of drawing up their waggons for the animals to ride in.56

  Miles of Mules

  Mules are an icon of our national heritage because of the importance they played in the nation’s economic development. In the summer of 2003, a public art project was launched throughout the Delaware and Lehigh National Heritage Corridor; that is, towns and villages in Bucks, Lehigh, Northampton, Carbon and Luzerne Counties. The project featured more than 170 life-sized fiberglass mules.

  The Miles of Mules program in Pennsylvania was sponsored by businesses, schools, individuals, families and nonprofit organizations. A committee of fifteen volunteers in Bucks County called the “Grooming Committee” reviewed artists’ applications and ideas on how they wanted to decorate a fiberglass mule. When their applications were accepted, they received a $1,000 honorarium to cover expenses.

  The mules were decorated by renowned local artists, amateurs and students who worked together to decorate the mules as school projects, all of whom used unique mediums and reflected their own styles and personalities or that of the region. There were traditional mules, colorful mules and sometimes outrageous mules, and all were unique. The project pulled together extensive community and business involvement. Once decorated, the mules were put on display throughout the region in public “paddocks” all along the canal corridor.

  Rosemary Tottorato, who owns a graphic arts and communications company in Newtown, created a mule she called Mule Tales. Using this unusual medium, she wanted to communicate the important events that took place during the canal era. “The challenge was how to do it on a life-sized fiberglass mule.” She went to the National Canal Museum Archives in Easton for research, and then with two sizes of rubber stamps, Rosemary told the stories of the canallers by carefully stamping quotes and newspaper articles all over her white mule. It took her seventy-five hours to complete.

  During the Miles of Mules project in 2003, 175 fiberglass mules were decorated by renowned artists, amateurs and students and placed in “paddocks” throughout the Delaware and Lehigh National Heritage Corridor. Courtesy Rosemary Tottoroto, Tutto Design and Communications.

  Using old newspaper articles and narratives by canal men, Rosemary Tottoroto tells the stories of the Delaware Canal in Mule Tales, which she designed for the Miles of Mules project. Courtesy Rosemary Tottoroto, Tutto Design and Communications.

  This whimsical mule decorates the gardens of the Golden Pheasant Inn in Erwinna. Courtesy of Michel and Barbara Faure.

  Salvaged, by artists Pete and Jennifer Miller, uniquely interprets the strength of the mule and the animal’s “heart of gold.” Author’s collection.

  Sitting on the banks of the now quiet canal, Jim and Tina Greenwood’s mule stands in tribute to the working animals that kept the canalboats moving from four o’clock in the morning until ten o’clock at night. Courtesy of Jim and Tina Greenwood.

  Ben was created by artist James Feehan and now lives in the garden of the lock tender’s House No. 11. Surrounding Ben are John Thompson,
Jack Thompson, Susan Taylor, Jan Wolters and Betty Orlemann. Courtesy of the Friends of the Delaware Canal.

  When the “Summer of the Mules” drew to an end in November 2003, “The Mane Auction Event” was held in Bucks County, and forty-five of the decorated mules were sold at auction at the Michener Museum in New Hope. The proceeds of this auction benefited the Delaware and Lehigh National Heritage Corridor, the Michener Art Museum and other nonprofit groups such as Habitat for Humanity, Big Brothers Big Sisters of Bucks County, Artists in Residence, Fox Chase Cancer Center and many more worthy organizations.

  Some of the owners of the mules have been kind enough to share them by displaying the mules around Bucks County for everyone to enjoy.

  Chapter 8

  The Canallers

  Men, women and children worked the mule-driven canalboats from early spring to early winter, stopping only when ice prevented their boats from moving on the waterway. Babies were born on the canal, and death was a shadowy companion.

  But who were they? How did their life’s work become a boat, a mule team and a load of coal? Some of the earliest canal workers were from local towns and villages, farmers turned boatmen. Others were free men of color. Yet the majority of the canallers were drawn from the nineteenth-century immigrant pool, primarily the newly arrived Irish, Scotch and Germans. Some had worked in the anthracite mines, decided they couldn’t take that life any longer and exchanged their Davy safety lamps for night hawkers. Others had worked on the excavation of the canal channel, and when it was complete, exchanged their shovels for rudders.