By Kathryn Reisdorfer

The Irish, who had not been well received in the East, were more accepted and far more successful in mining areas of the American West. In Prescott, Frank Murphy (b. 1855 - d. 1917), who had his hand in mining, contributed tremendously to the local community.  Another Murphy Beatrice lived in Butte, Montana, which like Prescott was a major mining hub. Although she was not Frank's relative, she was also Irish. She was full of exuberance and appreciation for life, and, luckily for us, she kept a diary.

Beatrice first shows up in the Butte City Directory in 1907 when she was a nurse at St. James Hospital. Later, she worked at Murray Hospital, a 100-bed facility, which, like many healing institutions, was privately owned, in this case by Dr. D. T. Murray. 

Encouraged by a local nun to do so, Beatrice kept a diary during November 1909, when she worked the 7 PM to 7 AM shift as nursing supervisor for thirty nights straight. In that diary, which illustrates much about the lives of women who came West on their own, we see the spirit of a wide-eyed Irishwoman who is not so very different from women one hundred years later. 

Beatrice was a jotter, using capitalization and punctuation as the spirit moved her. She writes that she answered phones, received patients, reported casualties to the newspapers, cared for patients-and even mended broken bones and sutured wounds. One entry reads, "Sewed up three cuts on miners head He wanted to faint while undergoing the operation Gave him a big drink of whiskey and used Christian Science. Which soon revived him." In another she says, "Miner appeared on the scene with cut head. Was going to call Dr. McCrackin but changed my mind and sewed it up myself. Man said he would just as soon have me do it, said it was a pleasure &c &c." 

The patients liked Beatrice, sometimes asking her out or introducing her to friends. "Made a decided hit with one of my patient's friends," she writes, and continues, "Was asked to go out for a ride. Looked very Coy & kittenish & didn't know what to do it being an unexpected shock to my nerves." Beatrice, who easily laughs at herself, also wrote that one patient "offered me a bottle of beer. Which I refused with becoming dignity. Elevated my nose among the clouds & tried to look horrified." 

Although she was a hard-working realist, she also had dreams. One evening when she was not as busy as usual, she "read the society news . Got to thinking seriously on the vanities of this world Decided that man is but a shadow and life a dream Built some beautiful castles in the sunny land of Spain. Came back to earth after a while & Found myself in the unromantic atmosphere of Murray Hospital." Other dreams were no more realistic. One evening after preparing supper she "made a solemn resolution never to marry a man unless he can afford a cook." 

Interspersed with quick, almost breathless descriptions of her daily duties, she adds comments on being a woman. Late at night she and her colleagues discuss the "Man Question," read what she calls "racy" novels, and swoon over handsome doctors. She writes in her quick script, "Had the extreme pleasure of seeing Dr. Witherspoon who gazed at me very kindly," and adds, "Dandy Night." On another evening she writes, "Saw the manly form of Dr. Campbell approaching up the hall Felt a strange thrill of delight at seeing him." 

In order to cover emergencies, Dr. McCrackin lived at the hospital; he was notoriously difficult to wake up. Beatrice boasts that she invented a device for rousing him, which apparently consisted of a sledgehammer and her strong arm. One night, when he finally responded to her pounding on his door, she was "rewarded by the sight of him in a London smoke bath robe which took my eye & was certainly very classy." 

Beatrice was not just susceptible to handsome men; she had rather tender feelings all-round. "Got a swell compliment which made me feel as if walking on air Had the same effect as a cardiac stimulant." Similarly swayed by negative comments, she writes, "Dr. Rodes hurt my feelings to such an extent as to almost make me weep Walked over by the desk sat down & poured forth my soul in song till the call of duty roused me from my reverie miner with crushed foot tried to be faithful unto death about answering bells Fussed over a sick baby till things began to swim before my vision." 

Beatrice did not spend all of her time in the hospital. In addition to having fun with the other nurses, she enjoyed "automobile rides" and dinners with suitors. She also went on a trip to Yellowstone, and she kept a written account of this as well. In it we can appreciate how pristine Yellowstone was in 1911. Visiting there involved treacherous travel and camping out. 

Well aware of propriety, Beatrice, who was single, could not join the tourist excursion alone, so she went with a young married couple. Everything about the trip enchanted her: "As we drove along everybody started to admire the scenery, and the more romantic ones started to have fits. My first attack came on when we reached Fort Yellowstone. The first Soldier Station. I screamed and beat the air with both hands. Such beautiful grounds and quaint buildings and Oh! The dear Soldier Boys." After a day-excursion, she wrote, "The terraces are about four hundred feet high and are every imaginable color I hung on to 'Spike' [the handsome guide]. Climbed down to the Devil's kitchen with him. He pressed my arm occasionally." Knowing that this was not exactly proper behavior, she quickly adds, "I suppose I ought to not tell this but it happened anyway." 

Not only did she love the scenery and the male attention, but she also got a kick out of her fellow travelers. Here she recounts how the group dropped handkerchiefs in the geysers. When you drop one, she writes, it "disappears and in about three minutes it is thrown up to the surface all washed and clean. 'Spike' said it even puts on a laundry mark but mine didn't have any. Mrs. Fitzpatrick dropped hers in five times. We all wished she'd drop herself in, but she didn't." 

For all her breeziness, Beatrice had a serious streak. She writes of one night at the camp: "The moon came out something beautiful. I gazed and gazed at it shining thro the tall trees and forgot everything in the world And the Spiritual part of me soared away above the clouds." This reverence is not surprising. After a particularly busy night at the hospital she had written, "Visited the afflicted and felt sorry for everybody except myself. Came to the conclusion that I was a very lucky person indeed Praised & glorified God for his goodness to me." 

Beatrice Murphy disappears from the Butte City Directory several years after the Yellowstone trip. Perhaps she found her perfect man (one who could afford to hire a cook!) or maybe she just moved on. I'd like to know what became of her, but even if I never follow up on this remarkable woman, I will be eternally grateful to the nun who encouraged her to write! 

(Kathryn Reisdorfer is so much more than a professor at Yavapai College) 



Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number: (pb146f30i1). Reuse only by permission.
Perhaps these women of turn-of-the-century Prescott enjoyed life as much as Beatrice Murphy did while working as a nurse in Butte, Montana. She kept a diary of her time at the Murray Hospital and tells of working, playing, courting, and feigning a disdain of beer.