CanÌƒon City record. [volume] (CanÌƒon City, Colo.) 1883-192?, 1908-08-13
THE SOCIAL STANDING
OF THE CAMP COOK

Walter Juan Davis, one OF the good
old scouts of the Denver Press club,
began life in the west al q govern
ment surveyor under General Atkin-
son in southern New Mexico along in
the early eighties. One of his proven
bially good stories incident upon that
period runs something like this:
"As look back over those times of
carefree life in the open. one dread
figure looms up before my minds eye.
1t is the figure Of a despot, cold, re-
lentless, inexorable. OF the camp cook
I speak.
Until cast my lot with the survey
1 was won't to boast that never did
I harbor a trace of ill-will for any
one. Contact with a camp cook spoil
ed me.
Many time in the solitude of my
|breeze-kissed bed chamber. and fiend-
ish chuckles and a raw atmosphere.
planned to steal out in the dead of
night with cleaning gun in hand-but
stay! / fear that this will incriminate
me. 1 am struggling to intimate that
no one was farther from my heart and
nearer to my stomach than the camp
cook.
"I am the camp!' That is the way
the camp cook looked at 1t. The only
time we ever loved him was that lit
tie instant when he raised his sharp
rasping voice and gave short stingy
call to meals. One by one we filed
into the cook tent where the Neces-
sary Evil held sway.
"The tyrant stood over us with a
look that seemed to say. How kind it
is of me to feed this bunch of in
grates!' Occasionally, someone work.
ing for graft would say. Your soup
is delicious tonight, Chef Compli-
ments had a peculiar effect on the
cook Tears filled his eyes and low
sound, resembling as much as a sniff
fie as grunt issued from his face. He
took on the attitude that said palmer
than words: It's about time you fell
lOWS dWohS W INC CASCIlChCy vi LILY
victuals!'
Once left a piece of leathery
steak untouched on my plate. 1t was
the mistake of my life for the cook re-
garded it as personal insult. reflec-
ton on his ability to please. In aus
tere tones he demanded of me the rea-
son for the objectionable sin. My
first reckless impulse was to fire the
steak at his head and thus forever ST.
lence him. But he had a meat clever
in one hand and big lump Of coal in
the other. So said a bad word and
hastily departed. 1t never occurred to
me that the cooks duties were any
thing but a soft snap, until one day,
in the absence of the despot, l was re-
quested to take his place. l had six
hours in which to prepare the evening
meal The first half of the afternoon
spent in reading candy recipes in
the cook book. Exactly what confec-
tionery had to do with preparing a
simple repast for ten hungry men l
cannot say. 1 know that / slipped on
into the sweetmeats department part
ly by taste but more by accident.
My original object in picking up the
book was to learn the most approved
method of peeling and boiling pota-
toes. Should the salt go in before, af-
ter or never? There was a puzzler
for me. / was still bothering over this
point when a committee reminded me
that the usual supper time would come
to pass in about sixty minutes. start
ed about and gathered all the left over
morsels that / could find in camp.
Dumping them into spider on the
stove, l stirred the whole business
around as it received it's warming over.
Hoodoo mush.' boys, said as plac-
ed the concoction on the table. Then
1 backed out Of the tent and ran. There
were dark hints Of general mutiny
in the camp that night"
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