Emily McLeod, Longtime M&M Cook

Photo Credit: Montana Standard

Oral History Transcript of Emily McLeod

Interviewers: Aubrey Jaap and Clark Grant
Interview Date: October 12th, 2018
Location: Butte-Silver Bow Public Archives
Transcribed: April 2020 by Adrian Kien

Jaap: It's October 12th, 2018. We're here with Emily McLeod. Emily, I'd like you to start with and just talk to me a little bit about your parents or grandparents and give me a little background on them.

McLeod: My parents were Manuel Arias. He was from Chihuahua, Mexico. My mother was Mary Navarro. And she was from Arizona.

Jaap: How'd they make their way to Butte?

McLeod: My father came here. There was four children and they lived in...And my grandmother was six foot tall. She was Indian. I would suspect because all Mexicans are real short. She come down from the mountain to work for my grandfather. And my grandfather married her and she had four children. And they lived in Mexico. And my uncle, Patrick came to decide that he wanted to come to the United States. And then you didn't they didn't cross the river like a wetback. They just walked across the bridge and he went to Texas. And he met a lady and she was older than him and he was 6 foot 4. So they were all real tall. And she poisoned him because he fell in love with a young lady. She was an old lady and he fell in love with the young lady and he was going to marry her. And he said, I want to part as friends. And so she said, fine. And she invited him to dinner for their last reunion. She poisoned him. So my dad...

Clark Grant: Killed him?

McLeod: Yes. My dad was Manuel. Emanuel came to the United States to kill that lady, but she had already poisoned herself. So he went to California and he worked for a while as an Indian in the pictures, in the movies. That was to start with. And then he didn't like that much because the Indians never won. So he decided, he went, he came all the way up and he worked in the fields or wherever he could find work. And he never spoke English. And he made it to Montana. And he met my mother. My mother was working in a boarding house. She used to help this lady. And she was already married and had two children. She had two boys and she was married to Fred Martinez. And he was not from Mexico. He was a Spaniard. He came from Chicago, from New York, some place over there, back east. And when she met...Then she married my dad, and that's how I come out.

Jaap: All right. So she was married when she met your dad. Did I understand correctly?

McLeod: She didn't marry him. I don't think they got married in the old days like they do it now. But, you know, they lived together. I think they lived together until I was about six. And then my dad worked in the mines. And so they had immigration orders at the mines. And my mother worked for the immigration. She translated. She said, they said, you can't. You've got to have a green card. Or you gotta marry. Right. So they went to Anaconda and they got married. And so he didn't have to have a green card. Well, I guess, they gave him a green card or not, but he was here to stay.

He raised my two brothers and me. I was his only child. Okay. He quit after he seen me. He said, "Oh, God, help us."

Jaap: No, you were just that great. You were just that perfect. Yeah. That's the other way to look at it optimistically.

McLeod: And I was born on Galena Street. Well, we never used to call them Lebanese. We called them Syrians. Mm hmm. They were all Syrians. And Galena Street from Ohio down to the next street was nothing but Syrians. And I was born right over there where Dr. George's house was. Dr. George, the dentist. His family owned like quite a bit of land in between there. My dad and mom rented a house there. And that's where I was born. I was born in a house, not in a hospital.

Jaap: What year were you born?

McLeod: I was born on Galena Street.

Jaap: What year? Are you gonna tell us?

McLeod: I was born here in Butte, MT.

Jaap: What year?

McLeod: Oh, '37! God, jeez, I hate to say I'm so gosh darn old. I was going to say damn old.

Jaap: Yeah, we're good here. So how did your mom get here?

McLeod: My grandfather, her father was born in Texas. And my grandmother was from Mexico. I don't know what part of Mexico. And he went down there and he wanted to bring her to the United States. And her father was a judge down there. He said, No, you couldn't take my mother and he shot my [grand]mother's father and took her to the United States.

My grandmother. My grandmother was a. I don't think she. I don't know. She had to be dumb, I wouldn't go with some guy who shot my dad, but she went with them. And I don't know why. And then they went to Texas. And then from there they worked all the way up till they got to Montana. And my grandmother had four boys and two girls.

My grandfather got gassed. They were going to leave here and I can't remember where my mother said they were going to go. But he got gassed in the Belmont mine. Then, you know, the company was probably a lot different than it is now. And they said that he died of meningitis because his belly turned upside down. And that's what happens to you when you get gassed.

Jaap: They didn't take the blame and they didn't probably have to pay her anything.

McLeod: And they didn't have to pay her nothing. So she got like a widow's pension of some kind. And so it was tough. She had those boys and then she had, you know. So she. I don't know...

And my mom was a lot older, you know, and she sold my mother to Fred Martinez. He was a big time gambler and he had a lot of gambling places. I don't know if he owned them. I don't know nothing about him. But anyhow, that's how she ended up with Fred. And then, of course, when she met my dad, she liked my dad better, I guess. I don't know. And he and her other husband was real tall, but we all came out short. My brothers, my brother Phil worked at the hospital over here at Saint James for years and he was the head engineer and the nuns loved him. And my brother Fred worked at the pit and he was the boss.

Jaap: So you have two brothers. Is it two brothers and you, then?

McLeod: My dad, when he married my mother, asked those boys if they wanted to change their name. And they said no. That was their father. And they would keep his name. So they went by Martinez and I went by Arias.

Jaap: So you were born in 1937 on Galena Street. Did you live your whole life on Galena Street? Or did you move?

McLeod: No. Then we moved to Ohio Street. And then we lived there till the company bought our house. We lived in the dump, you know, I mean, it was just an ore dump right there. I mean, the Colorado Mine was here and our house was over here. And then, of course, down below. I didn't know about the...whatever that was. What do they call that down there where the Silver Bow Homes was? The Cabbage Patch. I don't know. When I was growing the Silver Bow Homes was already there.

Jaap: Yeah, those got put up in the '40's. So you would've been really little.

McLeod: Yeah. But I was like a bull child, so.

Jaap: Were you a bull child?

McLeod: Yes. Yeah. And I was a bully too.

Jaap: Were you a bully? Do you have some stories to go along with that?

McLeod: I used to fight with whoever chose me. I'd fight back. And I fought with my oldest brother. And he was six years older than me. I went through many a windows. I have the scars by punching him. But then I'd end up. He'd end up pushing. Because Mexican family. The girls did the work. The boys did the work outside. Ah, you know, they didn't do anything in the house. So I'd be cleaning their bedroom and he'd end up jumping on the bed or, just to aggravate me. So then we'd go at fisticuffs and my mother would come out with the broomstick, a spoon and I'd get the worst part of it because he'd throw the bed up against me and knock me down so that I couldn't get up as fast as he did and run. And I was sort of chubby. So. But then my middle brother, now, he was three years older than me. But we got along. He was just the best pal I ever had. And we used to do some things. Because I was never allowed to leave our yard unless my brothers were with me. One of them. And so me and Fred would go. And he had his friends and we'd go and we'd fill our pockets up and we always wore bib overalls, so we'd fill our pockets up, go over to the Colorado Mine and then go over on Arizona Street. And the Chinese laundry was there. And the steps would go real far down, like real steep steps. And we'd open up that door and they'd be down there smoking their pipes, whatever they did. I don't know what they were doing, but anyhow, we would fling those rocks at them. Then they'd come after us, but we could run over the dump and hide where the cars used to come out and you'd stand over there. But they couldn't find us. But there were a lot of Chinese when I was little. Lots of them. And my brother Phil used to tell me that, you know, because they used to walk around with that little...Well, I don't know if it was a pillowcase or what, but it was always on their back and he'd say they get fat little girls and they eat them.

So if I seen those poor men coming down the street, you could hear me screaming all the way to Meaderville and I'd run like crazy because I was scared to death that they were going to take me. And then one day my dad said, No, don't do that. They're nice people. And he said, That's not nice for you to do that. And so he took me and we went across the street because they would never [come across the street]. They would go on the mine side. That was all mine on Ohio Street. On the corner was a gas station, but on this side was all the mine. And he took me over there and he said hello to the man and the man and said hello. And he said, See? They're very nice. And you say hello. I said hello. But I hid behind him. And after that, I wasn't too scared. I didn't really trust them.

But we had a good life, you know, as on the Eastside. And people were a lot different then. You knew everybody on the whole block. And now you could live and you never. I know my neighbors, but that's because I'm sort of pushy. But we never locked our doors. I don't remember ever having a key to the house. Never, you know. And then my brother, Fred, the middle one. He was quite sickly. But they think it was because he lived with my gram for a while and then my mother wanted him back when she married my dad. They took him and they got a judge's order to get him. And they took him. And it bothered him, I think for a long time. He was quite sickly. He had Down syndrome and rheumatic fever and all that stuff. And so my father paid quite a bit at Murray Clinic, a hospital, whatever it was. And he was in there for almost a year. Off and on. And Dr. Gillespie took care of him. And he grew up with you know, he was a hard worker and everything, but he drank. And the oldest one, he was a big tattletale. So you had to watch what we'd done because he'd tell my dad. But he was a sneaky type. He didn't get caught at what he'd done. But we did. But my brother Fred never, ever sassed my father. I did. I was terrible. But that's because I was the baby. But my brothers never, ever sassed. And what my father said. That's what they done. And never, ever gave them an argument. But I always fought. I fought like cats and dogs because I had to wash dishes, I had to do this and that. I was a brat.

Jaap: Were there other Mexican families in your neighborhood?

McLeod: There was one next door to us and they were the Rodriguezes, but she was English and he was from Mexico. And then the other family that her and my mom were real, real close was Mildred Aguirre. And Mildred and her were real, real good friends. And she was married to Benny Aguirre. And when she had my brother Phil, Mildred was in Whitehall. Benny was working in the fields doing something over there. And when she came back to Butte, she had a baby. And my mom had Phil and she said, "Huh, Mary, I gotta show you my baby." And Mary said, "Oh, I got a baby, too." And so she said, "What's your baby's name?" And she said, Phil. And she said, "So what's your baby's name?" "Phil." So they called our Phil, Little Phil. But their Phil was a husky kid, where my brother Phil was about this big. He was skinny and scrawny. And so they called him Little Phil. But when they grew up, my brother Phil was bigger than the other Phil, but they were friends forever. Then there was Dolores. And Dolores was the same age as my middle brother. There were three years between them. And then she had Junior. But Junior was a year older than me. Not quite a year, maybe months in between. But each of them had children at the same time. And my mother didn't have no more children after me.

Jaap: Where'd you go to school?

McLeod: And the Aguirres were really good friends of ours. And then my father was from Chihuahua Mexico. And my godparents are Daniel Ramirez and Labrada Ramirez. And they were our best friends and I used to live with them more than I did at home because they had like lots of children. They had like seven or eight girls and two boys. You know, they were a huge family. And I loved living with them because when we ate dinner, you ate at a big long table and you had benches where we sat and before you got to sit down, you had to show your hands and your face to make sure they were clean. Otherwise, you didn't get to sit at the table. We all ate at the same time. There was no radios on or nothing. You ate your dinner. And you talked a little bit. Never fought on the table.

Jaap: Was that not the case at your house?

McLeod: My house. My dad did, too. We ate at five o'clock as soon as he got home from work. The table was set. Dinner was on the table. And we were all clean, when we sat down. But we didn't have a bench or anything. We just had a table and chairs. And I thought why did we have that and they had benches? But then they had all those children, you know. So. But I was a miserable child. But, you know, I went to school at the Grand School. And I had dyslexia. So it was hard for me to learn, you know, to learn. I mean, whatever I learned, I had to cram it in my head. And then half the time it wouldn't stay. But then they didn't know about dyslexia. So when I graduated, I went to high school. My parents would drive me to the front door and I'd leave the back door. I didn't want to go to school, because it was hard for me. Where the other children were like, that come to them like crazy. You know, even to read. It took me a long time just to read something. Even a book now I have to read a couple times before I get it straight. And now they have, you know, for people like that.

So I didn't go to school. So my dad, you know, my brothers when they got older and they said they didn't want to go to school. My dad said, if you don't go to school, you have to go to work. And he said, I don't care what you do, but my brother Phil always, always had a job. He needed to work for the lady next door. She was a German lady. I did, too. I worked for her. He sold papers. He was on a paper route. And that's the only time he was nice to me, when we'd go collect. He had to collect on Mercury Street where the houses were. And so the ladies, when you'd go there to collect, they'd give him money for their papers, and then they would give him a tip. And, of course, I was the fat little girl. I had big, long, fat braids where my mother would and they'd end up giving me five bucks. So he'd give me a quarter and I was happy with that damn quarter.

Jaap: And so you tagged along.

McLeod: And he got five bucks. He was always the type that took care of us. And when he got paid and if it was my birthday, he'd go up to Thomas's, and Thomas's was right up on the next block on Park Street, and we'd go up there and he'd buy me. He bought me a dress and it was plaid on the bottom and velvet on the top. And then bought me patent leather shoes. But I was a devil for shoes. And my mother would never take me shopping because I was so bold. Then we had Kean's shoe store. I liked Kean's shoe store. They're really expensive. And you had Neuman's bootery. And so my mother would take me and she bought me some of them saddle shoes that were brown.

And I'd say, "You ain't putting them on my feet." And she'd say, "I'm going to put them on your feet." "No, you're not." And I'd take off and go. Go home. And so she told my dad, no more. So my dad said, OK. So when I needed shoes on Saturday, I'd wait for him at the pay office. And then we'd go to the shore. And he said to the guy, "Give her what she wants." So I would get whatever I wanted. And he'd say, OK. He'd pay for them and then we come home. My mother would say, "That kid, she ain't gonna wear them too long." My dad said, "Well, what else can we do?" So I got whatever I wanted. I had wooden shoes when they came out. I mean, those were the most popular shoes and they were wood. They were the ugliest things there ever was. But I wanted a pair and they were quite expensive. My dad bought them for me, but I hit my brother with one of them in the head and I sort of split his head open. The oldest one. I wasn't very nice. When it came to buying things. And they just let me go whenever I wanted.

And one time...my dad always used to make us go to church. He was very [Catholic]. You know, he was. And so we used to have to go to church early in the morning. And you couldn't eat because you had to receive communion then. Now you can eat and receive communion, but then you couldn't. And I passed out because I didn't have nothing to eat in my stomach. And you couldn't drink water. My dad didn't let us drink nothing. So it was like that was the end of our career of being real good Catholics.

Jaap: Where did you go to church?

McLeod: At Sacred Heart.

Jaap: Sacred Heart?

McLeod: Yep. And then when I got older, you know, you went to church on New Year's Eve. And at the Sacred Heart, it'd be completely packed. And sometimes there'd be a drunk out there on the steps. Because, I mean, where I lived from Park Street, there was nothing but bars all the way up and right across the street was the bar. Coolidge's. And they'd come over there and they wouldn't probably get in the church because a lot of times the church was packed, even in the back where you couldn't get in. And it was different.

Jaap: Yeah. So did you graduate from high school then?

McLeod: Didn't go to high school.

Jaap: So your dad made you work.

McLeod: I went to work.

Jaap: And where did you go to work?

McLeod: I worked for the lady next door. And she paid me good. And I used to have to scrub and clean her house and do all kinds of things, which didn't bother me. And then I had to do my own chores. So, you know, and my mother had to iron everything, not just shirts. You had to iron sheets. And that's what I started to learn how to iron, was pillowcases, dish towels. And I still iron. I iron everything. And if I was mad at him, I'd starch his shorts.

Jaap: That will keep you in good behavior. So you worked for her for how long?

McLeod: I worked for her until I got about 16. And then I went to work at St. James. And that was the worst thing. And then, of course, I didn't know how to drive. So, I had to walk from Ohio Street up to St. James, which wasn't a real far walk, but it was a walk and you had to go early in the morning. And I didn't like that too well. So then I quit that job. And when Community opened, then I went to Community and worked there in the kitchen. The big kitchen was down on the floor. And then you had kitchens all the way up to the...And I worked on the kitchen in there. I tried being a tray girl. I wasn't too good as a tray girl. But you know, you had to feed people. And then you cleaned the sink, you know, and you'd clean around. And the beds after. You didn't make the beds when the patients were there. And the aids did that. But you had to feed them. I was sort of short and chesty. And if you went, and the miners were sorta, you know, they were either young or some were super old and boy they'd try to grab a hold of you. Then that was a fight with me too.

Jaap: Yeah. I don't know if I would do that to you.

McLeod: Yeah, I mean, but they were just men. You know, it was a man's ward they used to have on the ends and you had to go feed them. And we all were really young, 17, 16. We were all young. So that was where I first...And then I just kept on working for St James for a long time. I worked in the kitchen. Then I became, at the end, I was a head cook at St. James. And I was a lead cook. I had to come at 5:00 and then I got breakfast, lunch and I'd have to start dinner. So it was a good job. And I got along pretty good with the nuns. I had a couple of favorite ones. You know, you always have a favorite one. Sister Dolores was my favorite. She was a big heavyset sister. And you could hear her tromping with that white uniform they wore. And that's when they wore the whole outfit. And you could hear her and she'd come in and she'd say, "I'm not eating that damn shit" and that where the fruit was. Because we'd have fruit where the salad bar was. And she'd say, "Go get me something good." So I'd say, "OK. What do you want?" So I'd go in the cooler and give her whatever she wanted. And then on Saturday days our boss wasn't there. And her favorite thing was cream puffs. I'd make her cream puffs. Her and they lived in the houses down below. And I'd take them. Now I'd make her a big cream puff for her and the other sister. And take them to them. She'd be so happy. She would just be dancing up a storm. But she was the nicest nun. And Sister Catherine was real nice. She'd come in the morning and she'd help me because I'd have to get the coffee ready for the cafeteria. And the coffee ready for the patients, and then get going on the cooking. And so she was nice. She always helped, but she died too. So did Sister Dolores. They're all dead. I'm the only one probably living in that place.

And then after I quit St. James and I went to work at the donut shop right on the corner of...it was a drugstore. And then next door was the donut shop. And I worked for him for maybe a year. And I used to have to deliver the M&M. I'd go over and take donuts to them.

And my dad used to like to gamble. That was one of his bad habits. But my mother only gave him, like payday, he'd only get a couple of dollars and that was his gambling money. Sometimes he'd win. Then he was like...Oh my God, we were happy as could be, because he'd go over...His favorite thing was crab. And he'd go over to the Metropolitan and buy himself a great big crab. And then whatever everybody else wanted. Of course what my dad ate, I'd eat. But not the boys, they didn't like it. And so he'd buy them what they wanted. And my mother, she was sort of picky, but she liked crab. She was a little short lady and my dad was 6 foot 3. My mother was 4'11", so he could stand like this and she'd go under his arm. But they liked to dance. They loved to dance, them too. And like I say, we just had a good life with what we did.

And like I say, when I went to the M&M, that's where I met him.

Jaap: OK. Tell me about that.

McLeod: I worked at the M&M and he used to come in. He worked, you know, all the time in construction. And we knew all the guys that worked that were laborers and miners. Because there was miners then. He lived at the Tate. And the Tate had all these guys. They lived on the third floor. There was Cameron McLeod. And what was the one that drank all the time?

Jim McLeod: Grant?

McLeod: Grant. And the little guy that I didn't like at all, Shadow. They all lived on that third floor. And he used to come in and eat dinner and never took a lunch, most of the time. But he'd eat dinner. So he said to me one day, "How about a date?" And I said, "Oh, sure, I'll meet you after 10:00 when I get off to go." And he said, "I'll be at the Four North [?]." OK. I get over there and he's passed out on the counter of the bar. That was the end of my date. But then we got together and that was that. I told him I had a daughter. I forgot to tell you.

I had a daughter when I was like 19. And I married, I didn't want to marry, I got pregnant and his name was Andrew Martinez. He was from New Mexico. He didn't have a pot to throw out and I don't know why I liked him, but he was a nice looking man. If you want. He was little, though. He wasn't big. And I got pregnant. And my dad said, "You have to marry him." And I said, "Just let me have my baby and then I won't get married." He said, "That baby has to have a name because she's got to go through life without a dad." And he said, "If you marry him, you don't have to live with him. You can come home." And I said, "I don't want to live with him and I hate his guts." And so he said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah." But then he went after him. And he was a little guy. And then my dad went after him. And my dad always used to carry a knife and he said, "I should cut you from one end to the other." And he was at the El Patio and my mother had to drive him because my dad always had a new car but couldn't drive. And my mother drove him up there and he went in and he told him, "You marry her. She don't want to marry you, but you're gonna marry her.

Because you can give that baby a name." So I did. And never, ever seen him again. He came to my house and I told him if he came to the door, I'd shoot him. And I did. I sat there for a long time. He sat there outside for about an hour. And I had a .38. I was waiting for him to come in. I would have shot him right in the head or someplace. He left. I raised her and he raised her. She was eleven when we got to get [divorced]. And then I had a son. There's 12 years difference between my son and my daughter. And they're both really good kids. And they're both really hard workers. Only my daughter. She was something else and she was beautiful. She was like a little...she's little too. She's only 4'11". And she was always real tiny and she grew up and she married an Irishman. Mulcahy. So she works still at Safeway's. So she went to school and she's a hard worker. She'll probably be like me and work until she's 78. I worked till I was 78.

Jaap: So when did you go to work at the M&M?

Jaap: So when did you go to work at the M&M? Do you know what year that was?

McLeod: Jimmy was born in '71, so I must have went there in...Because when I had Jimmy, I was in my thirties, so it had to be in the 60's, I guess.

Jaap: And how'd you end up working there? How'd you get a job there?

McLeod: Well, I was working, I told you, at the donut shop. Well, then one day I went in there and Rosie [inaudible] said, "They're looking for a cook. You want to cook?" "No, not really. I don't think so." And then, I mean, there were a lot of men in there, I mean, very few women. But a lot of men. And I thought, no way, Jose. I'm not going there. So anyhow, I quit Jimmie's donut shop. And then I went to the union and I said, "I need a job. I got my daughter." You know, my dad helped me. And I said, “I got to have stuff, insurance and stuff for her needs, OK?” She took me to the M&M because I wouldn't go in there by myself. I went in there. And Oh, my God. And Rosie Riasitch, she was well known here. And her and this waitress were real close. And they wanted Rosie to work downstairs and she had to break me in upstairs. So she did. And they gave me a hard time. But I was sort of...I didn't take their crap too much and I stayed there and I showed them I could do it. So I did. I was a good cook. I worked the graveyard when we'd make a couple thousand dollars just on the restaurant part. That's with three people, a cook, a waitress and a dishwasher.

Jaap: Who was working there at that time then?

McLeod: Well, at that time. When I first began, Tony Canonica's sister was our dishwasher. And Luigi, she would be Luigi's sister-in-law. She was my waitress. And then me on graveyard. And then I went through quite a few waitresses. Then I would end up working with Elsie Delmore. And she wasn't a Delmoe then, but she was a Peckman. And me and Elsie worked together. And she could get me in more trouble than you could believe. She'd tell guys I was going to go home with them and they'd sit there, wait until we got off at 6:00. And then they'd try to say, "Well, c'mon, you're going home with me." "The hell I am." And then, Tony would have to throw them out. That's Tony Delmoe. And I'd say, "Elsie, you son of a gun." But I didn't call her "son of a gun." I am going to kick your butt if you don't keep that stuff. She'd laugh. And we both would start laughing, but we'd have a lot of fun. And she was a good waitress. She was an excellent waitress.

I don't know of any waitress that I ever worked with that was as good as she is. She could take care of that whole table. And when we worked there on graveyard, you had guys standing up, waiting in line to get in there. So you had to work really fast and everything was fresh. So you had to go in that cooler between sausage, brains, liver. I hated those two things to cook, but sausage, steaks. And he always cut them downstairs in the basement. I'd make the soup. And then when I went dayshift, I'd make the soup in the morning and they would make the gravy downstairs. And then you had to bring it in and put it in the steam table. Get all that stuff ready. Besides steak and cooking breakfast. And the only thing I didn't like to cook...And when I worked graveyard, I'd say, no. I wouldn't cook hotcakes. Sometimes I'd have maybe four or five grand rounds and omelets and steaks. So how are you going to put [them on]? And we had a little grill that wasn't very much wider than this.

Jaap: How many meals do you think you'd serve in a night?

McLeod: Oh, at least two or three hundred. We'd bring in a couple thousand dollars and then food was cheap. When I first started to work there, corned beef and cabbage was four bits.

Well, when I got there, it was twenty five cents and then he raised it to four bits and Irish whiskey was what a nickel or ten cents, something like that. So, I mean, you had tons of people there on Saint Patrick's Day. I think I worked all the Saint Patrick's Days. One guy came in and said, "You're not Irish." And I said, "Yeah, I'm not Irish." But I said, "I know who my dad and mother are." But then I was being a bold, rotten person.

Jaap: That's pretty good.

McLeod: But, you know, and Dan Delmoe. He owned the bar and he was the man that was sort of like a little man syndrome. But he was mean as could be when he wanted to be, you know. He could throw out big guys and he could handle himself. And, but he was hilarious. The little Jew that used to shine shoes, and he'd be over there by the Woolworth's. And there was a hotel and he shined shoes below there. That little guy used to aggravate him. And he'd say, "You pop-eyed, Italian son of a gun." And Dan would get mad. And he'd go after him. He beat the...He sued Dan four times. He'd come in and he'd stand there at the door and call him all kinds of names. Well, then, Dan would get mad and beat the hell out of him. The one time I was there, he picked him up and threw him. And the doors, two swinging doors and swung it all the way out the first door and then he swung him out the other door. And the little Jew ended up underneath a car. He threw him so hard he went underneath the car. And, you know, he was tough. But this little Jew always asked for it.

And like working at the M&M, you met all kinds of different kinds of people. And we had Eunice. She used to be the little Indian lady. And she was married to a Mexican. And he beat her so bad. Her brain was gone. But she was as clean as anybody you ever seen. I mean, she always was clean with herself. And she'd come in. She'd say, "Hey, you goddamn Mexican, give me a dollar." And I'd say, "Hey, you gosh damn Indian, give me a dollar." And then I would end up giving her coffee or something. And I'd end up giving her a dollar. So she could go get a glass of wine or whatever she was drinking. And they murdered her. She got murdered in the back of the M&M. Right by where Gamer’s backdoor is, that's going down towards that way. That's where they found her. But she was the nicest little Indian. She wouldn't hurt anybody. But she was wacko, you know. And she was so clean. You couldn't help liking her. I didn't. I liked her. And I'd give her coffee. If we were busy. You couldn't let her sit at the counter. But I'd give her a cup of coffee and tell her to go sit in the back. She would drink her coffee. And if she had a little bit of money, she'd go get a drink. Yeah, but she was a nice lady.

And the only time I had a real bad experience was when at the M&M...They were twins, but they were from the Eastside. And I don't know if they were Jews or if they were Italian, but were real short. But they might have been Greek too, you know, there were a lot of Greeks, lot of Jews. And the one little guy was in there gambling and he lost a thousand dollars. Then he wanted his money back. He said they were cheating him. So Dan told him to get the heck out of there. So he threw them out. So pretty soon I had to go. And then you went out of the restaurant and you went into the back where there's a door that goes downstairs. And we had a cooler, a great big cooler. And that's where we used to keep our gravy and our French fries and stuff. So I went back there to get a can of gravy and that guy is standing there with a .38. And he was hollering. I mean, real bad language. And Dan was downstairs and Rosie was holding Dan. Because he wanted to come up with the butcher knife. But a butcher knife ain't going to help him when this guy's got a gun.

Anyhow, the guy shoved me up against the corner, and it's not very wide. So he shoved me up against the corner. And he stared down the steps. Well then I ran out and I told Tony. I said, "He's underneath there." And Tony said, "Yeah, I know. I called the cops." They came and got him. They took him to jail, but they never allowed him back in there no more. But that was sorta scary. That's the only time I was scared there. Otherwise, I never, if there was a fight, I was right out there. I'd like to watch those fights. I thought maybe I could learn something.

You know, one time, him. Oh, lordy. I grew up on the Eastside. So you knew everybody from, oh, Ohio Street down to Meaderville. We knew everybody, and so. This friend, and her name was Nita Parks. And Nita used to go with my brother Fred. And then she left after she got older and she went. I don't know where she went. And then she came into the M&M and I was working graveyard and she said, "Emily, is that you?" And I said, "Yeah, Anita." We were talking. And she had, she was married to a big colored guy and he was a big guy. And then her brother was there and her brother weighed like maybe 300 pounds. Big, big kid. And this one and his cousin come in, and they're sitting and he's singing and everything is beautiful. And the colored guy got mad. So his cousin and him were going to fight. The cousin was all the way up to Hennessey's and that ding dong was standing out there ready to fight. And the colored guy hit him. Or was it the big guy? One of them hit him. And I mean, he had, he got a big nose, but it was squished and his teeth. And then the big guy had a gun. And then Tony had called the cops and he said, "You guys better get the hell out of here because we got the cops coming." Well, me and Tony had to go out there and clean the sidewalk where his blood was. And his cousin was standing up there by Hennessey's. And he never got hit, but he got it. Next morning, I went up there to the Tate to see how he was. Oh, my God. He looked like he got hit with a Powerball, but he survived.

Grant: And who is this gentleman?

McLeod: Jim McLeod. That's how I ended up with him. And I have a son that's Jim's. Well, his dad was Jim, but they called him Mac all the time. And then Jim, this Jim. And then we have my son and I have a grandson that I raised.

Jim McLeod: They're all Jim's.

McLeod: They're all Jim's. So if they call and want Jim, do you want the old one; the young one; or the youngest one?

But working at the M&M was fun. And then after I quit the M&M, I went back to the hospital. And then I had a knee replaced, so I quit working and I was in my 60s and I was off for a little while and I went to work at the pasty shop.

Jaap: Which pasty shop?

McLeod: Joe's. I worked with Tom and he's a nice guy. Very nice man. And they used to call me the cougar. I was the old lady. I was always out there talking to the guys. Because out there at the pasty shop, you'd cook, you'd wash dishes, you made sandwiches and you waited on people. You did it all. I'm not a real good waitress unless I like you. Then I gave you the best service, but if I didn't like you...hmm...OK. And most guys that come in, they all knew me. So it was just like the M&M. I had a lot of boyfriends. But I guess I just liked that one. They all used to ask me for dates. All those guys like Maloney. He used to run Maloney's bar and he was the grumpiest old man, but he liked me and he was nice to me. One of the guys that worked up here at the pay office. He was about this big, but he never failed to come in every day for lunch, but he'd have his drinking lunch. And in the morning he'd have a cup of coffee and a shot. But he'd come in every day, three times a day, while I was there.

But, you know, you had favorites. All the Perini boys. I took care of all the Perini boys. The Battermann's. And I'll tell you what, the Battermann's were tough people. Had nasty mouths, but they were always real respectful with me. I'd like them. They were nice to me, and I was nice to them. And his wife when he was married to Sissy. She was a real nice lady. And like I said, nobody bothered me too much. And then I had Butch Marino. He went to prison for selling dope. But he was, and the Marino boys are all pretty tough. And he was another bouncer I had. You didn't mess with me or Butch would take care of you. Battermann. Whoever I had there. And Tony. And then when Charlie took over, Charlie was a nice man, but he had no business being a businessman. He ran the bar down. He couldn't even buy liquor unless he had cash. But he didn't buy the M&M. Dan just let him run it. He never, ever bought the M&M. It still belonged to Dan Delmoe. Then when they sold it. I don't know. Patty Delmoe must have got something. I don't know if she got anything out of it. I don't really know anything about it. And Patty was a real nice lady. She was married to Tony, not to Tony, to Dan. And she was the prettiest lady you ever seen. I think every guy I know that was in love with her. She had a waist about this big and she always wore real tight jeans. I mean, she wore them tight. But she was tough, too. She'd tell you to go to the devil, but she always used keep the bar really clean.

I still have a glass from the [M&M]. I have a glass and a vegetable dish from the M&M. The vegetable dishes are about this big. And you served your dinner and then because then they served like...Dan used to always have tongue, ox tails, tripe, all that stuff that people probably wouldn't even touch now. And that was always in there. I mean, he served prime rib and he served steaks, but there was still that...And brains, oh mother of God, that was horrible to touch. I mean, they'd cook them downstairs, the brains. Then they'd bring them up in a plastic bucket. And it was so gross because it was slimy and you had to pick up that whole big chunk of brain and then you have to throw it on the grill and then chop up onions and put it in there and cook it and then put eggs in it. That's how they ate them. Scrambled eggs and brains with hash browns. I never did try that. No, never.

But then I worked all over. I worked at Ray's. I worked for Ray's. And I worked at Terry's. I worked at the Ranch House. No, what was it? The Ponderosa. I used to drink at the Ranch House on Broadway. Do you know about that?

Jaap: I know about the Ranch House.

McLeod: One time we were there and we were all drinking. And Katie Marie, they lived on Galena Street. And they had their church there, too. And their house was right behind the church, Katie. And she had a sister. The mother and father married - sisters and brother. Katie was a little whacko too. She used to play with us when we were young. Played baseball, hide-and-go-seek, whatever. We'd play in the alley on Galena Street. We went to the Ranch House. Katie got drunker than a son-of-a-gun, and she had the biggest boobs I ever seen in my whole life. And she took her blouse off and her bra off. Oh mother of God, that was a sight to make you puke.

But, you know, you seen all kinds of sights then. You know, we had an Indian lady that came in there. And she was all dolled up and she was nice and clean. And she went to sit on the bar to get a drink. And the whole ass was sticking out because the pair of pants were ripped all the way down. And she had no underclothes. No one underpants. So. Yeah, but it was fun.

And whenever we got hurt at the M&M, we got burnt. We went to Marty and he took care of us. None of us ever went to the hospital. We always went to Marty. Marty took care of us and Dan took care of Marty. All the people were really good there. Like I said, I had a good life.

Jaap: So your family lived in their home until the company bought them out, is that correct? Is that what you said? Tell me a little bit about that. When the company bought your parents' home.

McLeod: Oh, when we bought my parents' house. Our neighbor, the German lady that lived on, they sold their house first. So they were close. The only difference between her land and our land was a walkway. And it was wood. You never, ever see wood walkways now, but it was wood. You walked all the way across there. And then her house sat in back. And then she had her son's house. He had the house on the corner of Galena and Ohio. And he used to run a gas station up on Park Street. And she was a Call, but she was married before. And his name was Miller, Gerry Miller. And they sold their house first. But all the rest of the land in the back of their house was ours. There was like, I'd say at least three lots that were my dad's. And then our house. And then he owned Rodriguez's house too. And my dad, he was a big, big man and he had a big, big heart. And if people come there like, and he knew a lot of Mexican people. My mother wasn't really friendly with the Mexicans. She wasn't too friendly. She liked the neighbors, but she was, I think, she always did want to be a Mexican. I'm proud I'm Mexican and I'm very proud. And I made sure my children are proud of being Mexican. Half. But she was different. And she never, ever really liked to associate with those people. And she was good to her mother. But my dad, if they came in, gave him a sob-sob story, he'd say, go take one of the cabins and live there until you can pay for one.

And then the company came and they wanted to buy our land. My dad said, "No." The thing he was worried about was they were closing the Sacred Heart School. And my daughter went to the Sacred Heart for one year and he said, "What are we going to do about this baby?" He wanted to buy it. My dad loved gardening. He had the prettiest flowers that you ever did see. He had a garden in the backyard that we'd have strawberries about that big. He had a green thumb. And he always used to share stuff with the neighbors and stuff. And he didn't want to live. He wanted a house over there in Rocker and my mother didn't want that. She said, where would my daughter go to school? And of course Ramsay was there, but my mother kept on saying, "No, there's no place for her to go to school and she'd have to ride the bus." And he used to take her to school when she was little. And so he said, "OK." So then they found a house on Colorado and they got that house. And my dad died there. He died when he was like 65. He died in '72. I guess. His brother used to run the D&M. He owned the D&M and he loved my son. Oh, my God. I should have named him Danny, but I didn't. I named him Jim. But he would, he had the D&M and he'd have guys that come in that would sell Tonka toys. My son had every Tonka toy there was to have. He brought him a Winnebago. It was a big one like this. And that kid wore it out.

We lived on Franklin. And he would ride it from one end of the thing to the other in. And Mulcahy's, Moe was a police officer. And then we had Graham behind us. And Graham above us. And Casey was another cop. And Moe used to like to tease my son. Him and Graham. And they used to say, "Hey, you little Mexican." And he'd say, "Mom, he called me a Mexican." I said, "You tell them, yeah, you are." He says, "But you tell him this. The bottom half is Mexican and the top half is Irish and that's the best part of you." Moe would come up the street with the siren on. "Ma, what did you do?" Because they all used to call me Ma. And then I worked at Ramsay. Now they all called me Grandma. So Ma was my name up on Franklin Street. And he'd say, "Ma, did you tell that baby to say that?" But he had a little girl that was the same age as Jimmy. Amy. Amy used to talk like a little Chinaman. You couldn't understand a word she said. And she would say to Moe, "Jimmy, I'm going to marry Jimmy McCleod." But she couldn't say Jimmy McCloud. And he had a recording of all the stuff she was going to do with Jimmy. I don't know what they did with that. One of the boys must have it.

And my daughter married his son. The middle son. She's married to John Mulcahy. Like I said, she had all the boys when she was young. She's still beautiful. But all those guys up there, I had them sitting, my husband made a fence for us. I had more boys up there than you could shake a stick at. She used to like Mike. Mike Casey. Then she went to Mulcahy. She ended up with Mulcahy. So they still live in my house up there. We gave it to them. He did. He gave him that house. And my son. We bought a house in Lone Pine Gulch. I'm not a country girl. And I lived there for almost 10 years, right? Maybe a little bit more now. We bought 20 acres and my uncle died. And he gave me his house on Casey Street. Boy, you could follow the dust behind me, coming in, moving right into that house. And then it's beautiful. You had all the animals. You got mice. And I'm scared to death of them things. I'd fight a grizzly bear, but a mouse, it scared the hell out of me. And it's like that's the only thing I didn't like.

And then my son come. He was working in New York when that bomb hit. But he was down at the end of New York. Not up that far. He married a girl from Georgia. She used to call me Miss Emily that used to drive me crazy. Miss Emily. Oh, God, but she's a very nice lady. She's a nurse. She works at the Copper Ridge and she works as hard as he does. And they have lots of animals. They have cows, pigs, horses, chickens. I'm scared to death of chickens, and I don't like birds either. They all went hunting one day and she said, "Would you take care of the chickens and feed them?" And I didn't want to say, "No." But I did. So she said, "All you have to do is give them water and some food." I went up there and they were in a pen, you know, she didn't leave them running around, but I took a 2x4 with me and this one chicken kept on looking at me. I think she wanted to bite me.

but I took a 2x4 with me and this one chicken kept on looking at me. I think she wanted to bite me. And when she come near me, boy, I hit her with that 2x4. And then when they come home, they said, "Gee, what happened to the chicken?" I said, "Oh, I don't know. She was fine when I seen her." But it was after I got through clobbering her. That's the end of my life up there in the country.

Jaap: Yeah. All right, Emily, do you have any other stories? Clark, do you have any specific questions?

Grant: When was the last time you were in the M&M?

McLeod: When Elsie died? And I got drunk and he had to take me home.

Jaap: That's OK. She died last year. Was it last year.?

McLeod: Mmmhmm. But me and her were really good friends. We drank together. I used to babysit her youngest boy. Petey was my baby. I'll have to tell you this story because nobody else would believe this story. I always babysat Tony, Petey. Tony was her oldest boy. That was Tony's boy. She married Tony Delmoe. And she had a boy with him. Then he got cancer and he died. Then she married Pete Delmoe. So Pete, she had a little boy with Pete and Petey was my boy. And so I always took care of him. I'd go down to the ranch where they had the buffalo and stuff. And I'd play with him. I'd play farms with him, and whatever he wanted to do. And he drank a bottle until he was like six and a half years old. He had his bottle. And now he's a lawyer. You know, he's a prosecutor or something. And he's the best kid. But he had the nastiest little mouth you ever did hear.

So it was Christmas time and Elsie said, "We got to go shop." And I said, "OK. I'll go with you." And we decided we'd go down to Downey’s. Tim used to live just below, and they were real good friends. So we went into Downey’s. And Downey’s always was like a mall. I mean, it was packed at Christmas time. You know, they were buying all this stuff. Me and Petey were walking. And Petey never let go of my hand. And he never, ever called his mother, "Mother," he called her Elsie. So Petey said, "Elsie." And she said, "What do you want?" And he said, "I want that farm set." And she said, "No, you've got too many." And he said, "You mother..." The 'F' word. And he wouldn't let go of my hand. And she turned around. She said, "Jesus, Emily, why don't you make your kid stop using that language." Everybody's staring at me like, "Oh, mother!" And I wanted to cry! And he wouldn't let go of my hand. He was a good sized little boy. But she went flying down the aisle, laughing her head off. But that was Elsie.

And I loved Petey. He was always my favorite. And he's a big boy now and a beautiful young man. And he went to college down at Missoula and he was a reporter, a sports reporter, but he didn't like that. So then he went back to school and now he's down in Billings as a prosecutor, I think. Nice boy. And then my son and her daughter were boyfriend and girlfriend, and they were boyfriend and girlfriend from the time they went to high school until my son graduated. He was older than her and that's when she got killed.

Elsie had bought her car for graduation. And Jim and Patty were both sort of wild. And I'll say my son was wild. So they went to the, they had the Edwards girl and she was like a freshman. And then they had the Campbell boy who was going with the Edwards girl. And Elsie had bought Patty this little car and it had a fastback. And they took a ride. And Elsie said, "You guys shouldn't be run around with that little Edwards girl because she is too young." And they said, "No, she's not." And so they went and they decided they were going to go to Wise River. So they went to Wise River. I don't know if they were drinking too much or what happened. But anyhow, they decided to come home. And they were taking the road, not that you go through Wise River. They went the other way to come out at Anaconda. And they got in a wreck. And the two girls died.

They tried to say that Jimmy was driving, but he went out the windshield. He was on the other side and he went out the windshield. And he really never got hurt. He got a broken shoulder. And he has a real tender nose and the blood was coming out of his nose and out of his ears. So they had to take him to Missoula because they thought he had a brain injury. Anyhow, they found out it was just the blood. And then Patty died and so the little Edwards girl was in the back. And the Campbell boy, all he got was a broken thumb. And Jim had to go to a dentist for years to take the asphalt out of his mouth, because where he skidded, flew out of the car and his mouth. And Patty, she died. And she was a beautiful little girl, little redhead, cute as could be. And he took a long time for him to forget her.

Then he married a young lady, well, he didn't want to marry her, but he got her pregnant. I said to him, "I don't care if you marry her, but you have to give that baby a name." So he did. But she didn't want to get married till after she had the baby, because she wanted to have that white dress and all that crap. Which she shouldn't have had. And she had this huge big wedding. And I went home with my baby and at the wedding, I didn't even watch the dance. Because I had got drunk the night before at the party. And I got real drunk and my hair never was ever black. It was always dark brown. I had dark skin. I was the darkest one in the whole family. But I had brown hair, not real light brown, but dark brown hair. You could probably say, "Oh, she looks like she's got black hair," but it wasn't. So I was drunk and we went and I was still a little drunk when we went to go have our hair done and we went to Penny's. She said, "Can I touch up your hair?" And I thought she meant by touching up, she was going to put some crap in it. Right? Well, she dyed my hair. And it turned like a copper penny. And then I said, "What the hell am I going to do? I got a wedding to go to."

And so they kept on doing all this crap instead of saying, "Well, we'll give you a wig," right? No. They kept on putting this crap on. And the more crap she put on the more coppery it got. And I looked like one of those old hookers, a colored hooker down in Vegas. And I had a mint colored dress and it was mint. And I'm dark anyhow. And I had this horrible orange hair. And I had to go to the wedding like that. I only stayed for a little while at the reception and we went home and I took my baby with me. And I had my baby then and I still got him. He's 24 years old and he's still living with me. And he doesn't look like a Mexican. And he runs around with guys that are half Mexican, you know, and I know all those kids, they all call me Grandma. And they, he, I said, "Well, who are you at with?" "The little Mexican?" I said, "What the heck are you?" Because he's red headed. Blue eyes. And real freckley-faced. Looks just like him. And my son, he used to be redheaded, dark like auburn, not red. And he's got green eyes. But now his hair is turning gray and black like mine. And he's very handsome. Just like my daughter is beautiful and my son is very handsome, but that's because I'm the mother.

Grant: Do you have a favorite drink?

McLeod: Do I have a favorite drink? I hate beer, but any hard liquor I like.

Grant: Gin?

McLeod: I put away a little bit, but I never really got really so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing. I might have hit a couple of garbage cans or something, but never, ever really wrecked the car. Oh, I rolled a couple of cars when I lived in the country. And I was sober. I come home one time and I lost. When I worked at Ray's. After we worked at Ray's, you know, I used to go sit and have a drink or two. I had two or three and I'm going home. But my son happened to see me and I was driving on the wrong side of the road on the railroad. And they took my car away from me and drove me home. I got lost going up there one time too. After working a shift, then you have a few drinks. Never did kill myself. I don't like beer, but I do like...I am not really a wine drinker either. But I like hard liquor. If I'm going to drink, that's what I drink. And I got drunk at Elsie's drinking tequila. On the rocks. And that's the end of my life.

Jaap: Well, Emily, thank you.

McLeod: Anyhow. And he was born on the Eastside, too.

Jaap: Would you want to come in to do an interview?

Jim McLeod: Sure!

McLeod: He can tell you about all the drinking he done.

Grant: All right, then.

McLeod: The reason I liked him was he had a nice car. He had an Oldsmobile with a convertible top. It was beautiful and he was working in Bozeman. I'd drive him and then I'd have the car for a whole week. I was a natural girl, liked the cars. Well, thank you.

Grant: Thanks for your time. It was great.

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