Here's a few recollections put to paper around 1940 by an old-timer named George Coats, who moved here with his parents shortly after 1876 when Hill City was founded.
-Ed
When the railroad was building through town in the summer of 1890, a good many "hobos," as the common track and grade laborers were called, would come to town on paydays to spend what little they might have left, after their board and commissary bills at camp were held out. The contractor they worked for generally made it a point to see that the hobos didn't have much net pay due them, and often only gave them a time check, for which they had to give all kinds of discount to get cashed. Mostly, they gambled at the "sure thing" games or bought the lowest grade rotgut whiskey that was ever sold anywhere.
The saloons, about a dozen were here then, all had their "hobo bottle" to set out when a hobo called for a drink. This bottle was kept partly replenished by the bartender keeping a funnel in it, so he could dump back all remnants and dribbles left over in anyone's unfinished drinks. The whiskey sold to them in the original bottle was of about the same low-grade vile stuff. It soon had them off their feet where they could be easily robbed, or rolled, as it was called then, of what little money they might have left. As a class, the hobos were the lowest grade of labor. They were usually somewhat ignorant, and physically deficient from being older than their best days.
During the summer of 1890, one could often see a fire up in the timber where a bunch of hobos would be staying overnight after being in town all day. Don Hare, a local boy, happened to be up in the timber near one of these camping spots, when he found the body of a dead man. The coroner said he had been killed by a club, probably in a fight or robbery. I don't remember if the authorities ever discovered his name or any trace of who killed him. No one seemed to care much what happened to these poor men.
All kinds of businesses were booming. At one time there were 23 saloons running at full blast day and night. The town had the reputation of being the toughest place anywhere in the west at that time. It was overrun with all kinds of sure-thing gamblers, rounders and strong-arm robbers. The Hobos, as the railroad grade workers were called, were easy pickings on paydays when they came to town, got paralyzed drunk and laid around in the sawdust on the floors of the saloons and out along the street. They mostly stayed as long as they had a cent.
Many of the tin miners went up against the sure thing games until they were broke after first paying their grocery and other monthly bills. The stores mostly carried them from payday to payday. The general run of credit receivers were better risks those days than they are today.
