An instance of such hero-worship was cited by the late Father Phillips, one of Wyoming Valley's most prominent clergyman, with natural gifts of his own to distinguish him. The incident which he describes below occurred at the turn of the century:
"I was booked to deliver an address at an Ancient Order of Hibernians meeting one night in Plymouth. A committee escorted me to the stage on which were seated many prominent members of the Order, among them a little old gentlemen whose face was handsomely decorated with side-whiskers. While conversing with a member of the committee, the little gentleman in question, who was seated on my right, suddenly said, "Begorra, I wonder what's keeping the talent?" I turned and looked at him with surprise, but said nothing. Suddenly he cried, "I wish the talent was here." Again I looked at him with surprise, wondering whether he meant to slight me -- me, who thought I was the whole thing.
Presently, my little friend on the right emitted a roar which would shame the best efforts of a Sioux warrior on the warpath. He threw his hat high in the air and roared with all the lung power at his command: "Be jabbers, the talent has arrived! The talent has arrived!"
It seemed in a moment as though bedlam had broken loose. Every man in the audience was on his feet, whooping with bulging eyes and mouth agape: "Hurrah for Con!" I looked towards the entrance when, lo and behold! I saw Con Carbon being carried on the shoulders of two strapping young miners towards the stage. I thought that my little friend on the right would go into convulsions on the wings of enthusiasm. Every lineament of his features seemed to bespeak the esteem in which he held Con. Even his side-whiskers looked as though their every hair waved a welcome to the laughing, rollicking, good-natured Con.
It was several minutes before the enthusiasm subsided, only to break forth again in cries of, "Let us have 'Me Johnny Mitchell Man,' Con." When Con stepped to the front of the stage, the applause was simply deafening. It seemed to shake the whole building, from top to bottom.
He, and not I, was the feature of the evening. Beside him I felt my own littleness. He certainly was a wonderful character."
Con Carbon died in 1907. Among the tributes paid his memory was a letter to his family from United Mine Workers of America President John Mitchell in which the union leader told how the minstrel had inspired him during the Anthracite Coal Strike of 1902.
-- Edited from: Minstrels of the Mine Patch : Songs and Stories of the Anthracite Industry (1938) by George Korson.
Cornelius "Con" Carbon is buried in an unmarked grave in
St. Gabriel's Cemetery in Hazelton, Pa. George Korson (1895-1967) was a folklorist, journalist, and historian who also wrote Coal Dust on the Fiddle : Songs and Stories of the Bituminous Industry (1943).
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