Oct. 13, 1996
I have the urge to take up the pen once more. What was it like to be a regular Navy man during the long months and yes, years of World War II? The carnage of battle was horrible at best. We left it where it sank at Pearl Harbor. It is a reminder that wars and the results of war are not to be tolerated; but they are still with us and the end is nowhere in sight. Perhaps it will be with us until the end of time as we know it. What drives the force of man's inhuman treatment of his fellow man? I personally know men who saw the horrors of the Auswisch death prison where millions were exterminated. The bodies were disposed of as if they were the carcass of an animal. Our troops arrived there while the fires were still burning under the ovens. Many Jews took their last ride on a railroad car designed to transport livestock. Most would end up in the ovens. Or, consider Omaha beach. It was only one of many such landings but it will long be remembered, perhaps because of the sheer mass of men and equipment who took part in that landing. Victors we were but what a terrible price we paid. I was on the Atlantic only long enough to sail from Norfolk, Virginia to Colon, Panama. Colon is the Atlantic port at the end of the Panama Canal. It may surprise you to know that the Atlantic port of Colon is actually farther west than the Pacific port of Balboa. I spent several years in that area. The jungle in the background on shore was beautiful and of a green color that never faded and of course to the west lay the vast restless waters of the Pacific Ocean. The ocean outside the break water of the harbor is never, never still. In my reverie, I think of it as my sea of grass because on quiet days and clear nights the rolling breakers resembled a field of tall grass waving in a wind. Perhaps that is part of what sustained me during those times. I often went topside after an eight to twelve watch or a twelve to four. At these times only the men on watch were about and one could enjoy the solitude and gain some peace and contentment. There was a saying in the service that certainly portrays a reality. "Hurry up and wait." A cardinal breach of the code of behavior was to be tardy. A man coming off watch could escape briefly from reality as he sat and contemplated the lonely rolling sea. For a brief period, time stood still and there was a renewal within that cannot be described. Not all of war was blood and guts. There were the countless hours of drills. Drills and more drills. You went through the motions of, Abandon Ship and General Quarters (another way of saying) get to your battle stations on the double. On the double was no leisure stroll. In such times the ship became a scene of orderly chaos. These endless drills were practiced until all was accomplished with automatic precision. On rare occasions the ship might drop anchor in a sheltered and isolated bay. A boat or boats with a rifleman aboard would be launched. This was the shark watch. After the guards were posted all hands off watch were free to go swimming. I never did, but one could relieve some one who wished to go. There was also liberty in the various ports. If the time in port was brief only one watch might go ashore. Here again if one did not care to go ashore he might relieve a buddy who wanted to go. A good ships company were a close knit group of men. Another way to get ashore was to be chosen for shore patrol. Shore patrol was the Naval equivalent of the Army's Military Police. It was not a permanent duty. Any petty officer might be called for shore duty. I have served in that capacity. We were not police in an ordinary sense.
^
Our job was to keep our men out of trouble and get them back safely aboard ship. It really was an important duty but it was usually quite pleasant and being on duty we were required to abstain from alcohol. Two events were important in a sailor's life. Crossing the International Date Line and crossing the Equator were events to be remembered. I still have my cards, duly signed that verify these events. According to my card, I crossed the International Date Line on April 9, 1945. I was aboard the U.S.S. Dutchess APA 98. This was the fkst time. We were on our way to Okinowa during the last effort to drive the Japs from the Pacific islands. Other than receiving the card, this was no special event. The International Date Line is of course on the 180th Meridian, halfway around the world from the Greenwich Meridian which is a reference point for all time. It is also, according to my card, the Domain of the Golden Dragon, Ruler of the 180th Meridian. This is a part of the lore of the Seafaring men's tradition. I have crossed it a few times since. Crossing the Equator for the first time was a different matter. The rite of passage must be strictly observed; according to Seafaring men's tradition. One must be initiated into the mysteries of the deep in keeping with the realm and be acclaimed a true and loyal son of Neptune. I crossed the Equator for the first time in September 1941 aboard the U.S.S. Trenton CLII. At that time I was a Fireman 2C, comparable in rate to a Corporal in the Army, however rank was cast aside during the ceremony even the commissioned officers received the same treatment as enlisted men. At the Int. Date Line crossing my rate was M.M.1C. Initiating the Polliwog into the order of Shellbacks was truly a gala affair. It may or may not have been done in war time. I do not know. It required much preparation. We were not subjected to violent physical abuse but the uninformed were certainly kept in utter confusion. The closest thing to abuse was when we were required to take an oath of allegiance to Neptunus Rex whose realm we had dared to enter without due permission. This of course was done by placing the hand on a book, as we swore allegiance. The book turned out to be a copper plate and we were standing barefoot on a wet deck. Just as we touched the "book" someone turned the crank on a device that produced a terrific shock. It was truly a shocking experience. Crawling through a long sleeve that had been used for gunnery practice was not pleasant. It had been filled with several days accumulated garbage that had been exposed to the hot tropical climate. Other similar trials were carried out. I suspect they were only limited by the imagination of the Shellbackers. It was fun and we looked forward to when we would be on the Shellback side of the celebration. I have since crossed the Equator many times but alas the clouds of war overshadowed all else and we went about our business of training recruits with a vengeance. The foremost thought we tried not to think about was, how much of our fleet was still battle ready. The fact was that the Pacific fleet was severely crippled but our spirit was not. We were eager to drive the Japs back to their homeland.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Oct. 1996
ALASKA
I received my high school diploma in 1940. That occurred within a few days of my twenty-first birthday. This gave me the distinction of being the oldest member of the class. What took me so long? It may surprise you to learn that many young men in the community, just a few years my senior graduated from grade school and never returned to the formal classroom. There were several reasons for this. Money was scarce. Many were subsistence farmers and in many cases it was not possible to commute. Staying in town with a family was an option for some girls. They would do domestic work to pay for part of the board and room. Jobs for boys who stayed in town, were hard to find. It is safe to say that girls from the rural areas attended high school while their brothers stayed home and worked. This was true in my family. In fact four of my sisters finished high school and my three older brothers did not. I tried to join the Navy right after graduation but was not accepted. I needed to be circumcised. After surgery and healing it was late September before I became a Navy recruit. I took the oath at Kansas City and was soon on a train bound for Great Lakes Naval Training Station, Wakeegen, Illinois on the shores of Lake Michigan. Recruit training was a breeze. I think that it was an enjoyable time. I had been on my own for a while and that helped. Some who came directly from home found it harder to adjust. One recruit ended his Naval career by jumping off the water tower. Six years later 1 was paid off as a Chief Machinists Mate. My work was operating and maintaining machinery. I was content in that line of work. We often made repair parts in the machine shop. When I left the Navy it was my intention to obtain an engineers licence and return to the sea. This did not happen. In fact labor unions were the reason for my decision. At that time labor unions were gaining strength. It is probable that they operated within the law but they often used intimidating tactics. Woe to anyone who opposed them. We Navy personnel at Dearborn, Michigan during the first Ford Motor Co. strike were well aware of how brutal they could be. I was lead to believe that Maritime unions were the worst of the lot. After seeing the men who worked along the docks, I could well believe that. Under the system of that time, membership in a union was necessary before any job was available. I wanted no part of the unions, to independent perhaps. Well! Here I was in Seattle, Wash., and at loose ends. I was far from home with little money but that was not a thing to worry about. This was certainly not the first time. Somehow the word came that a contractor was hiring men for work on an air base at Fairbanks, Alaska, Ladd Field. Well! why not go. At the hiring desk I signed on for a year. What do you suppose was the first requirement? I joined the union as a common laborer and a group of us were soon on a plane bound for Alaska, We touched down at Whitehorse, Canada, Yukon territory and soon arrived at Fairbanks. We lived in barracks and ate at a mess hall. This was certainly nothing new. I had done that for many years. The food was plentiful and good and the huts for sleeping were comfortable. They were heated by an oil burning stove that was filled from a five gallon can. A spare can full was always kept inside. This was necessary because of the intense cold. Fuel would turn to jelly outside. It was hot in the day time when I arrived in August and the days were long. I was not there when the days were longest. Farther north there is a time of year when it does not get dark.
I saw my first permafrost. What, pray tell is that? Much of interior Alaska is frozen permanently. The southwestern islands are warmed by the ocean but farther north, inland the tundra will thaw on the surface. It will even get like a bog in places. Below the surface the ground is permanently frozen. I often wondered how they handle the water supply and I don't know the answer. They were building barracks, roads and other buildings. I worked with a jack hammer crew. Where ever digging was required we loosened the frozen earth. The work was not hard. As winter came on we were not doing much. In fact some days we were sent to isolated places where our idleness could not be seen. This was a cost plus project. Such a practice was common during the war. A contractor would bid on a project and agree to do the job at cost plus a percentage of the cost as his profit. In theory it sounded good because die contractor could not lose; but I suspect the system was abused. You see, the more the project cost the bigger the contractor's profit. I suspect that they had more men on the payroll than was actually needed. About mid November the word was passed that anyone who wanted to do so could have their contract cancelled and the company would fly them back to the States. I choose to do so with full intentions of returning in the spring. It has been a long winter. I never returned. Alaska is a big state. The landscape is as varied as the weather. Anchorage and the southeastern islands have a rather mild climate. It is warmed by the ocean. The terrain is rough. Vegetation is plentiful. There are mountains and glaciers and an abundance of water. If my memory is correct, the area around Fairbanks is rather flat. I was there in forty seven. At that time it was possible to drive from the States up the Alcan highway to the interior. The Alcan joined the Richardson and the Glenn highways. One went to Fairbanks and the other to Anchorage. I suspect they were built by the Army. I know the Alcan was. A local man, the late Jack Conard, worked on it. Freight was moved in the winter by Cat trains - a train of sleds pulled by a Crawler tractor. I knew a man who worked on one. In summer, much of the land was covered with a spongy mass called muskeg. About the only traffic it would support was foot traffic. Of course water traffic was common in summer. I thought it was a land of opportunity.
ALASKA
I received my high school diploma in 1940. That occurred within a few days of my twenty-first birthday. This gave me the distinction of being the oldest member of the class. What took me so long? It may surprise you to learn that many young men in the community, just a few years my senior graduated from grade school and never returned to the formal classroom. There were several reasons for this. Money was scarce. Many were subsistence farmers and in many cases it was not possible to commute. Staying in town with a family was an option for some girls. They would do domestic work to pay for part of the board and room. Jobs for boys who stayed in town, were hard to find. It is safe to say that girls from the rural areas attended high school while their brothers stayed home and worked. This was true in my family. In fact four of my sisters finished high school and my three older brothers did not. I tried to join the Navy right after graduation but was not accepted. I needed to be circumcised. After surgery and healing it was late September before I became a Navy recruit. I took the oath at Kansas City and was soon on a train bound for Great Lakes Naval Training Station, Wakeegen, Illinois on the shores of Lake Michigan. Recruit training was a breeze. I think that it was an enjoyable time. I had been on my own for a while and that helped. Some who came directly from home found it harder to adjust. One recruit ended his Naval career by jumping off the water tower. Six years later 1 was paid off as a Chief Machinists Mate. My work was operating and maintaining machinery. I was content in that line of work. We often made repair parts in the machine shop. When I left the Navy it was my intention to obtain an engineers licence and return to the sea. This did not happen. In fact labor unions were the reason for my decision. At that time labor unions were gaining strength. It is probable that they operated within the law but they often used intimidating tactics. Woe to anyone who opposed them. We Navy personnel at Dearborn, Michigan during the first Ford Motor Co. strike were well aware of how brutal they could be. I was lead to believe that Maritime unions were the worst of the lot. After seeing the men who worked along the docks, I could well believe that. Under the system of that time, membership in a union was necessary before any job was available. I wanted no part of the unions, to independent perhaps. Well! Here I was in Seattle, Wash., and at loose ends. I was far from home with little money but that was not a thing to worry about. This was certainly not the first time. Somehow the word came that a contractor was hiring men for work on an air base at Fairbanks, Alaska, Ladd Field. Well! why not go. At the hiring desk I signed on for a year. What do you suppose was the first requirement? I joined the union as a common laborer and a group of us were soon on a plane bound for Alaska, We touched down at Whitehorse, Canada, Yukon territory and soon arrived at Fairbanks. We lived in barracks and ate at a mess hall. This was certainly nothing new. I had done that for many years. The food was plentiful and good and the huts for sleeping were comfortable. They were heated by an oil burning stove that was filled from a five gallon can. A spare can full was always kept inside. This was necessary because of the intense cold. Fuel would turn to jelly outside. It was hot in the day time when I arrived in August and the days were long. I was not there when the days were longest. Farther north there is a time of year when it does not get dark.
I saw my first permafrost. What, pray tell is that? Much of interior Alaska is frozen permanently. The southwestern islands are warmed by the ocean but farther north, inland the tundra will thaw on the surface. It will even get like a bog in places. Below the surface the ground is permanently frozen. I often wondered how they handle the water supply and I don't know the answer. They were building barracks, roads and other buildings. I worked with a jack hammer crew. Where ever digging was required we loosened the frozen earth. The work was not hard. As winter came on we were not doing much. In fact some days we were sent to isolated places where our idleness could not be seen. This was a cost plus project. Such a practice was common during the war. A contractor would bid on a project and agree to do the job at cost plus a percentage of the cost as his profit. In theory it sounded good because die contractor could not lose; but I suspect the system was abused. You see, the more the project cost the bigger the contractor's profit. I suspect that they had more men on the payroll than was actually needed. About mid November the word was passed that anyone who wanted to do so could have their contract cancelled and the company would fly them back to the States. I choose to do so with full intentions of returning in the spring. It has been a long winter. I never returned. Alaska is a big state. The landscape is as varied as the weather. Anchorage and the southeastern islands have a rather mild climate. It is warmed by the ocean. The terrain is rough. Vegetation is plentiful. There are mountains and glaciers and an abundance of water. If my memory is correct, the area around Fairbanks is rather flat. I was there in forty seven. At that time it was possible to drive from the States up the Alcan highway to the interior. The Alcan joined the Richardson and the Glenn highways. One went to Fairbanks and the other to Anchorage. I suspect they were built by the Army. I know the Alcan was. A local man, the late Jack Conard, worked on it. Freight was moved in the winter by Cat trains - a train of sleds pulled by a Crawler tractor. I knew a man who worked on one. In summer, much of the land was covered with a spongy mass called muskeg. About the only traffic it would support was foot traffic. Of course water traffic was common in summer. I thought it was a land of opportunity.
Nov. 10, 1996
The longest journeys have their end The darkest shadows flee Even the dreariest rivers Find their way to the sea. So said the poet of long ago. What longer journey is there than that one on the path of life. When I think of the path of life I am reminded of another poet and his poem. Someday I shall search my library and read it again. "The House by the Side of the Road" In essence he says. "Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man." I am especially touched by his ending. It is something to ponder in times of self evaluation. He continues: Some are good Some are bad Some are weak Some are strong Some are foolish So ami What brings on moods like this? I feel drained. I spoke in a church this morning. The message was that we must actively seek out the lost and lead them back to the path that leads to life everlasting. I stressed the importance of placing the Bible along the highways and byways of the world. I left that church with a feeling that it was flat, not exactly a failure, just flat. Some might call this mood depression but I do not think so. Only God can evaluate the results and I must let it rest there. It is times like these when I really miss Mary. She was a very quiet person but somehow her very presence filled a void. I remember many occasions on a long trip home from who knows where; I would lay my hand on the seat between us; or perhaps the order was reversed and she would lay out her hand. Regardless of who made the advance the response was the same. The partner's hands would join. There was no radio noise that might break the spell neither was a word spoken. At such precious moments nothing spoken was needed. Indeed a spoken word would shatter the silent communion. The point is this; life must be shared. If it is not then the words of the writer of Ecclesiastes seem appropriate. All else is meaningless and a chasing after wind. Those who pile up worldly goods may do so but it becomes a driving force. What is possessed is not enough. More and more becomes the goal. How many times have I heard someone say. "I would have had more but ." You, dear reader fill in the blanks. Is this not the seeds of greed sprouting within the soul. In an attempt at self examination I can say with confidence that amassing earthly treasures was never a goal. We raised our children and none of them are wealthy. If I am wrong then Mary and I failed. My most precious wish is to truthfully say, as did the Apostle Paul "I have run the race, I have fought the good fight, I have kept the faith." I have always followed a simple rule (and have sometimes failed). If what I do will harm some one else then I should not do it, or never take advantage of some one else, even in business. This certainly is not worldly wisdom. I have seen this trait in my sons and I am well pleased. The vengeance is mine, I will repay saith the Lord. So let it be.
The gathering clouds of mood are now gone. Is it possible to commune just by writing it down? If this be so then it adds credence to what the scripture teaches. "It is not good that man should be alone." The fact is that we are never alone unless we choose to isolate our selves. To do so leads to death; both physical (perhaps by self destruction) and, saddest of all eternal death.
The longest journeys have their end The darkest shadows flee Even the dreariest rivers Find their way to the sea. So said the poet of long ago. What longer journey is there than that one on the path of life. When I think of the path of life I am reminded of another poet and his poem. Someday I shall search my library and read it again. "The House by the Side of the Road" In essence he says. "Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man." I am especially touched by his ending. It is something to ponder in times of self evaluation. He continues: Some are good Some are bad Some are weak Some are strong Some are foolish So ami What brings on moods like this? I feel drained. I spoke in a church this morning. The message was that we must actively seek out the lost and lead them back to the path that leads to life everlasting. I stressed the importance of placing the Bible along the highways and byways of the world. I left that church with a feeling that it was flat, not exactly a failure, just flat. Some might call this mood depression but I do not think so. Only God can evaluate the results and I must let it rest there. It is times like these when I really miss Mary. She was a very quiet person but somehow her very presence filled a void. I remember many occasions on a long trip home from who knows where; I would lay my hand on the seat between us; or perhaps the order was reversed and she would lay out her hand. Regardless of who made the advance the response was the same. The partner's hands would join. There was no radio noise that might break the spell neither was a word spoken. At such precious moments nothing spoken was needed. Indeed a spoken word would shatter the silent communion. The point is this; life must be shared. If it is not then the words of the writer of Ecclesiastes seem appropriate. All else is meaningless and a chasing after wind. Those who pile up worldly goods may do so but it becomes a driving force. What is possessed is not enough. More and more becomes the goal. How many times have I heard someone say. "I would have had more but ." You, dear reader fill in the blanks. Is this not the seeds of greed sprouting within the soul. In an attempt at self examination I can say with confidence that amassing earthly treasures was never a goal. We raised our children and none of them are wealthy. If I am wrong then Mary and I failed. My most precious wish is to truthfully say, as did the Apostle Paul "I have run the race, I have fought the good fight, I have kept the faith." I have always followed a simple rule (and have sometimes failed). If what I do will harm some one else then I should not do it, or never take advantage of some one else, even in business. This certainly is not worldly wisdom. I have seen this trait in my sons and I am well pleased. The vengeance is mine, I will repay saith the Lord. So let it be.
The gathering clouds of mood are now gone. Is it possible to commune just by writing it down? If this be so then it adds credence to what the scripture teaches. "It is not good that man should be alone." The fact is that we are never alone unless we choose to isolate our selves. To do so leads to death; both physical (perhaps by self destruction) and, saddest of all eternal death.
Nov. 1996
PROFILE OF A GRADE SCHOOL TEACHER
Here in western Kansas one room school houses dotted the landscape. I am not sure how it was in earlier days. Sheridan County was organized in 1880. I doubt if there was any formal school in the county prior to that time. Probably home school, teaching the three R's was the rule. Perhaps a few families banded together for that purpose. I would rule that out because my father stated that only four families lived along the Solomon River in what is now Sheridan County when Grandfather settled along its banks. Indeed it was a flowing stream at that time. Few settled away from the creeks because they needed water. The population changed rapidly in the eighties. As a matter of fact the population soon numbered more than four thousand and it has been declining since that peak. Americans have always took pride in our high literacy rate, so schools soon became organized. The building was usually a wood frame building perhaps twenty four by thirty. The teacher might have as high as thirty pupils and all eight grades. Since transportation was probably on foot or horse back it was mandated that no child should need to walk more than three miles to attend school. Most were closer, I and my brothers and sisters walked about two miles. Quite often the teacher was a young woman fresh out of school. In my time one could graduate from high school, take a summer of "normal" course, pass the required test, then they were a qualified teacher. Most teachers I knew were women. It was not unusual for a young teacher to have a pupil or two almost as old as she was. It was customary for a teacher to board and room with a local family. I think that custom was changing about the time I finished grade school. Cars and improved roads made it easier to travel. I believe that my father attended Normal School. He may well have held a teacher's certificate but he did not teach school. My mother taught at least one term. During their early years I am sure that an eighth grade diploma and normal school were sufficient to obtain a teacher's certificate. I suspect in the earlier times the teacher often married a local resident. The school was supervised by a three man school board. I suppose that a woman might have served after the nineteenth amendment to the U.S. Constitution was passed. It was called the women's suffrage movement. It gave women the right to vote and Frances E. Willard was a leader in that movement. Since I was born about that time I was named Willard. It is safe to say that schools evolved. Certainly a young, inexperienced teacher must have had a hard time. Eight grades were called to the recitation bench at the front of the room each day. In the course of a normal day they might be called forward for a lesson in geography, arithmetic, grammar, English, spelling and history. Not all grades took all these studies every year. A bit of arithmetic would soon convince you that the time was too limited for that. The school day started at nine a.m. and lasted until twelve o'clock with a fifteen minute recess. It started again at one 1 p.m. and lasted until four o'clock with a fifteen minute recess. This equaled five and one half hours per day, five days per week, eight months per year. Eight years were normally required to complete this course of study. If a pupil failed and did not complete the required course of study, that pupil could quit school at age sixteen. This happened for various reasons. A slow learner might just give up. Many compassionate teachers would make the extra effort and try to get the pupil to finish More frequently it was a case where the pupil was absent from school and working at home. This more often happened to a boy but sometimes a girl might be required to take the place of an ailing or dead mother.
There were truancy laws but with local control of the school they were not rigidly enforced. Did the teacher have complete control over the school subject, to the elected school board? No, the county superintendent wielded a great deal of influence. I believe they were elected and they might be re-elected many times. Naturally the teacher wanted us to shape up during the county superintendent's visit but they could come unannounced. Their office also required them to supervise the county examinations. These exams were given every spring to every seventh and eighth grader. A passing grade was required. A diploma was issued to all eighth graders who met the requirements and graduation ceremonies were conducted in a central location every spring. I graduated in nineteen thirty three. This was during the depth of the depression. It was decreed that the boys would wear bib overalls made of blue denim and chambray shirts. The girls wore gingham dresses. Quite an appropriate attire, don't you think? We may have been poor in worldly goods but we certainly had our pride and so did the teachers. I do not mourn their passing but I believe they served us well. So let it be.
PROFILE OF A GRADE SCHOOL TEACHER
Here in western Kansas one room school houses dotted the landscape. I am not sure how it was in earlier days. Sheridan County was organized in 1880. I doubt if there was any formal school in the county prior to that time. Probably home school, teaching the three R's was the rule. Perhaps a few families banded together for that purpose. I would rule that out because my father stated that only four families lived along the Solomon River in what is now Sheridan County when Grandfather settled along its banks. Indeed it was a flowing stream at that time. Few settled away from the creeks because they needed water. The population changed rapidly in the eighties. As a matter of fact the population soon numbered more than four thousand and it has been declining since that peak. Americans have always took pride in our high literacy rate, so schools soon became organized. The building was usually a wood frame building perhaps twenty four by thirty. The teacher might have as high as thirty pupils and all eight grades. Since transportation was probably on foot or horse back it was mandated that no child should need to walk more than three miles to attend school. Most were closer, I and my brothers and sisters walked about two miles. Quite often the teacher was a young woman fresh out of school. In my time one could graduate from high school, take a summer of "normal" course, pass the required test, then they were a qualified teacher. Most teachers I knew were women. It was not unusual for a young teacher to have a pupil or two almost as old as she was. It was customary for a teacher to board and room with a local family. I think that custom was changing about the time I finished grade school. Cars and improved roads made it easier to travel. I believe that my father attended Normal School. He may well have held a teacher's certificate but he did not teach school. My mother taught at least one term. During their early years I am sure that an eighth grade diploma and normal school were sufficient to obtain a teacher's certificate. I suspect in the earlier times the teacher often married a local resident. The school was supervised by a three man school board. I suppose that a woman might have served after the nineteenth amendment to the U.S. Constitution was passed. It was called the women's suffrage movement. It gave women the right to vote and Frances E. Willard was a leader in that movement. Since I was born about that time I was named Willard. It is safe to say that schools evolved. Certainly a young, inexperienced teacher must have had a hard time. Eight grades were called to the recitation bench at the front of the room each day. In the course of a normal day they might be called forward for a lesson in geography, arithmetic, grammar, English, spelling and history. Not all grades took all these studies every year. A bit of arithmetic would soon convince you that the time was too limited for that. The school day started at nine a.m. and lasted until twelve o'clock with a fifteen minute recess. It started again at one 1 p.m. and lasted until four o'clock with a fifteen minute recess. This equaled five and one half hours per day, five days per week, eight months per year. Eight years were normally required to complete this course of study. If a pupil failed and did not complete the required course of study, that pupil could quit school at age sixteen. This happened for various reasons. A slow learner might just give up. Many compassionate teachers would make the extra effort and try to get the pupil to finish More frequently it was a case where the pupil was absent from school and working at home. This more often happened to a boy but sometimes a girl might be required to take the place of an ailing or dead mother.
There were truancy laws but with local control of the school they were not rigidly enforced. Did the teacher have complete control over the school subject, to the elected school board? No, the county superintendent wielded a great deal of influence. I believe they were elected and they might be re-elected many times. Naturally the teacher wanted us to shape up during the county superintendent's visit but they could come unannounced. Their office also required them to supervise the county examinations. These exams were given every spring to every seventh and eighth grader. A passing grade was required. A diploma was issued to all eighth graders who met the requirements and graduation ceremonies were conducted in a central location every spring. I graduated in nineteen thirty three. This was during the depth of the depression. It was decreed that the boys would wear bib overalls made of blue denim and chambray shirts. The girls wore gingham dresses. Quite an appropriate attire, don't you think? We may have been poor in worldly goods but we certainly had our pride and so did the teachers. I do not mourn their passing but I believe they served us well. So let it be.
Dec. 6, 1996
^
Bob is home from Florida. It is nice to have company but he is not one to sit quietly at home on long evenings. He will sometimes read a book in the quiet time but it seems that a force drives him to seek out others. How amazing it is that each person is unique. How is it possible that no two people in all creation were ever just alike? I enjoy solitude but quiet company is enjoyable. There are schools of thought held by scholars that seem to differ. Some say that the individual is shaped by genetics. Or put another way manners and attitudes are inherited. If that is true then why are father and son or mother and daughter often direct opposites? Certainly environment appears to shape many people. Consider the fact dial a doctor's son often becomes a doctor, or a good preacher may be fadier to another preacher. Look around and see how often, like father like son is true; but we must acknowledge the fact that the opposite also is true. My observations lead me to believe that what has been mentioned is not so easily applied to women; but as more and more women leave the home and join the work force that too may change.
^
Bob is home from Florida. It is nice to have company but he is not one to sit quietly at home on long evenings. He will sometimes read a book in the quiet time but it seems that a force drives him to seek out others. How amazing it is that each person is unique. How is it possible that no two people in all creation were ever just alike? I enjoy solitude but quiet company is enjoyable. There are schools of thought held by scholars that seem to differ. Some say that the individual is shaped by genetics. Or put another way manners and attitudes are inherited. If that is true then why are father and son or mother and daughter often direct opposites? Certainly environment appears to shape many people. Consider the fact dial a doctor's son often becomes a doctor, or a good preacher may be fadier to another preacher. Look around and see how often, like father like son is true; but we must acknowledge the fact that the opposite also is true. My observations lead me to believe that what has been mentioned is not so easily applied to women; but as more and more women leave the home and join the work force that too may change.
Dec. 1996 THE LAST CHRISTMAS OF THE FRANK MORGAN FAMILY
The year was nineteen hundred thirty six. The great depression and the drought on drouth was coming to an end. Did you know this word has two ways to spell it? Recovery was slow and times were hard. I was seventeen and if I had a dollar to spend, I was rich. In fact I was a fair skunk and gopher trapper. We sold the skunk hides and the county paid a nickel bounty on gopher scalps. This was my only income. Dad worked away from home and I did the farm work. In spite of the financial problems and the travel involved the whole family was together. The boys from the Hills, as we called them, came down with their wives. Julius and Stella had no children. Robert and Mildred brought their son, Jim. Irene and Frank Richards lived on a small farm nearby. They had one child, Nancy Jo Ann. Winnie came from Denver. She was still single. Wallace, my brother, and my sister, Rosa came from Colorado. He was employed on the Turkey Track Ranch located east of Fountain and Rosa kept house and went to high school. She received her diploma from the Squirrel Creek School in El Paso County. Vera was teaching at the Prairie Flower School, located six miles south of where we lived. I, of course was still at home. My younger sister, Lucille (Cille) and brother, Arthur were still going to the Tasco Grade School. There is a picture of that gathering floating around somewhere in the family. As I remember, it was a beautiful, shirt sleeve weather day. The picture referred to includes Mom and Dad and their ten children. Memory fails me, I cannot remember if the two grandchildren were included in the picture. The dog, I might add answered to the name of Buck. He and I claimed each other. We spent many days together herding cattle. He is the same dog who survived a snake bite by a rattler. It is proper to note at this time that my own grandson, Jay Rietcheck, who has a severe hearing loss, witnessed an incident on his folks' front lawn. One of the dogs received a snake bite but no harm came to him Gay). He was a very excited boy when he came running into the house to ask his mother to come look, I killed the rattler and with prompt action by the vet, the dog was good as ever the next day. The years, how quick they pass. A few months later Dad was gone, killed by asthma. It was probably made worse by living in the dust storms of the Dirty Thirties. Soon we will celebrate a holiday together with my family. I and my six children together with the thirteen grandchildren. But!! There will be an empty chair at the table. Mary, the grandmother, will not be physically present but I shall insist on an empty chair. She was always careful to include all thirteen as her grandchildren but just for the record only ten could she claim as blood descendants. You see, Melissa Bohr, Neal Draper and Nolan Draper are step children of my son, Sam and daughter, Susan Draper. This may have been a Thanksgiving day event. Memory is sometimes faulty after sixty years.
The year was nineteen hundred thirty six. The great depression and the drought on drouth was coming to an end. Did you know this word has two ways to spell it? Recovery was slow and times were hard. I was seventeen and if I had a dollar to spend, I was rich. In fact I was a fair skunk and gopher trapper. We sold the skunk hides and the county paid a nickel bounty on gopher scalps. This was my only income. Dad worked away from home and I did the farm work. In spite of the financial problems and the travel involved the whole family was together. The boys from the Hills, as we called them, came down with their wives. Julius and Stella had no children. Robert and Mildred brought their son, Jim. Irene and Frank Richards lived on a small farm nearby. They had one child, Nancy Jo Ann. Winnie came from Denver. She was still single. Wallace, my brother, and my sister, Rosa came from Colorado. He was employed on the Turkey Track Ranch located east of Fountain and Rosa kept house and went to high school. She received her diploma from the Squirrel Creek School in El Paso County. Vera was teaching at the Prairie Flower School, located six miles south of where we lived. I, of course was still at home. My younger sister, Lucille (Cille) and brother, Arthur were still going to the Tasco Grade School. There is a picture of that gathering floating around somewhere in the family. As I remember, it was a beautiful, shirt sleeve weather day. The picture referred to includes Mom and Dad and their ten children. Memory fails me, I cannot remember if the two grandchildren were included in the picture. The dog, I might add answered to the name of Buck. He and I claimed each other. We spent many days together herding cattle. He is the same dog who survived a snake bite by a rattler. It is proper to note at this time that my own grandson, Jay Rietcheck, who has a severe hearing loss, witnessed an incident on his folks' front lawn. One of the dogs received a snake bite but no harm came to him Gay). He was a very excited boy when he came running into the house to ask his mother to come look, I killed the rattler and with prompt action by the vet, the dog was good as ever the next day. The years, how quick they pass. A few months later Dad was gone, killed by asthma. It was probably made worse by living in the dust storms of the Dirty Thirties. Soon we will celebrate a holiday together with my family. I and my six children together with the thirteen grandchildren. But!! There will be an empty chair at the table. Mary, the grandmother, will not be physically present but I shall insist on an empty chair. She was always careful to include all thirteen as her grandchildren but just for the record only ten could she claim as blood descendants. You see, Melissa Bohr, Neal Draper and Nolan Draper are step children of my son, Sam and daughter, Susan Draper. This may have been a Thanksgiving day event. Memory is sometimes faulty after sixty years.
Dec. 1996
Tis two nights before Christmas and all through the house, nothing is stirring. Bob and Lady, the dog, are all die company there is. What contrast to days gone by. Mary would deck die house widi a bit of die holiday trimmings. Nothing elaborate, you understand. It was just a tribute to the season of celebration. If she had access to a million dollars I doubt if it would have been different. She was a frugal woman. This was a trait diat I much admired. She taught me a lesson early in our marriage. I believe the females of all God's kingdom have a strong protective regard for their offspring. This is something that I suspect the male will never understand. If she ever brought home anything that might seem frivolous it was for die children. Christmas was a special time. We, for years ate a breakfast together on Christmas morning. This continued until her death. All the family would try to come to this special gathering. I am not sure why we did this; but it was good for die family. Perhaps we did it in deference to our children's spouse's family. They too gadiered on Christmas day and of course die expanded family could not be at both grandparents at the same time. Mary would be up late on Christmas eve. She would hang stockings for family members; nothing elaborate. It was just her way of letting us all know that we wrere special. Oh Lord forgive! How much I took for granted. I am thankful for the bittersweet memories.
Tis two nights before Christmas and all through the house, nothing is stirring. Bob and Lady, the dog, are all die company there is. What contrast to days gone by. Mary would deck die house widi a bit of die holiday trimmings. Nothing elaborate, you understand. It was just a tribute to the season of celebration. If she had access to a million dollars I doubt if it would have been different. She was a frugal woman. This was a trait diat I much admired. She taught me a lesson early in our marriage. I believe the females of all God's kingdom have a strong protective regard for their offspring. This is something that I suspect the male will never understand. If she ever brought home anything that might seem frivolous it was for die children. Christmas was a special time. We, for years ate a breakfast together on Christmas morning. This continued until her death. All the family would try to come to this special gathering. I am not sure why we did this; but it was good for die family. Perhaps we did it in deference to our children's spouse's family. They too gadiered on Christmas day and of course die expanded family could not be at both grandparents at the same time. Mary would be up late on Christmas eve. She would hang stockings for family members; nothing elaborate. It was just her way of letting us all know that we wrere special. Oh Lord forgive! How much I took for granted. I am thankful for the bittersweet memories.
Christmas eve 1996
How many Christmas eve church services have I attended? I do not know. How far back does the memory go? That too is lost in the passing of time. I can however remember attending Christmas eve programs at the old Presbyterain church at Tasco. It was a celebration combined with the childrens' program. We may have rode to church in a horse drawn wagon. Maybe not on Christmas eve but we did so many a time. Times were hard and community gatherings were a welcome event. Perhaps the pace was less hurried. Perhaps we celebrated more than the birth of Christ but surely true worship of God was part of the gathering. Oh! that we might turn back the pages of time. Of what avail? Why these pensive moods? It is a season for reflection. Self examination is not easy and honest self examination may often be unpleasant. It has sometimes led to self destruction. Is life then an exercise in frustration? By no means. Man has a source of strength within his grasp. How strange it is that so many reject it. Mankind is doomed to live by the sweat of his brow, but this does not go on forever as if we were on a treadmill going nowhere. The poet Longfellow must have understood this. He both asked and answered this question when he penned "A Psalm of Life." "Tell me not in mournful numbers. Life is but an empty dream?" Next we exert another thought "Life is real, Life is earnest, And the grave is not the goal. Dust thou art to dust returnest was not spoken of the soul." And so it is. We may have melancholy moods but they can serve a purpose that is useful. They can serve us well as a reminder of how selfish we are by nature; but we have a power within our grasp. Grasp it we must or all is lost forever and that dear reader is a long time. Thus it behooves us to: "Go tell the untold millions, Jesus was crucified." I made a hard decision today. The question was really this. Who do I put first, my brother man or myself? There is but one answer and I firmly believe that I made the right choice.
How many Christmas eve church services have I attended? I do not know. How far back does the memory go? That too is lost in the passing of time. I can however remember attending Christmas eve programs at the old Presbyterain church at Tasco. It was a celebration combined with the childrens' program. We may have rode to church in a horse drawn wagon. Maybe not on Christmas eve but we did so many a time. Times were hard and community gatherings were a welcome event. Perhaps the pace was less hurried. Perhaps we celebrated more than the birth of Christ but surely true worship of God was part of the gathering. Oh! that we might turn back the pages of time. Of what avail? Why these pensive moods? It is a season for reflection. Self examination is not easy and honest self examination may often be unpleasant. It has sometimes led to self destruction. Is life then an exercise in frustration? By no means. Man has a source of strength within his grasp. How strange it is that so many reject it. Mankind is doomed to live by the sweat of his brow, but this does not go on forever as if we were on a treadmill going nowhere. The poet Longfellow must have understood this. He both asked and answered this question when he penned "A Psalm of Life." "Tell me not in mournful numbers. Life is but an empty dream?" Next we exert another thought "Life is real, Life is earnest, And the grave is not the goal. Dust thou art to dust returnest was not spoken of the soul." And so it is. We may have melancholy moods but they can serve a purpose that is useful. They can serve us well as a reminder of how selfish we are by nature; but we have a power within our grasp. Grasp it we must or all is lost forever and that dear reader is a long time. Thus it behooves us to: "Go tell the untold millions, Jesus was crucified." I made a hard decision today. The question was really this. Who do I put first, my brother man or myself? There is but one answer and I firmly believe that I made the right choice.
The following article was one of the earliest written about A.S. "Sam" Morgan. Although the main thrust concerns the early history of Sheridan County, the article does contain some history on Sam Morgan. •
Some Early Day History Concerning This County: Sheridan
By way of introduction, I will say my father settled at Museum in '71, so named because of Indian and other relics found there - now the home of George Pratt. This county had not been surveyed at this time. Supplies were brought from Fort Hays. He was handling cattle on shares for a man at Brookville, whose name I have forgotten. At that time, only four men lived on the south Solomon in what was to be Sheridan County. Cattle were marketed at Hays or Abilene, being driven to one of those points in late summer. Father had been over considerable of this county before with buffalo hunters. The buffalo hides were sold at Hays and Wallace at a dollar each. The Dodge City and Black Hills trail struck at what is now Buffalo Park, a half-way place between Hays and Wallace. Signs of this trail may be seen on the Hardy Bradbury ranch east of Hoxie. Near there was Camp Scripture where cowboys might quench their thirst and also try their luck on the green cloth. The trail struck north Solomon near the George Kious place. To the Kious family was born the first white child in Sheridan County. It was just south of Buffalo on Big Creek where they were camped for dinner that Joel Collins and one of his cowboys were killed by cavalry troops from Hays. Collins and seven of his cowboys who had taken a herd of beeves to the Black Hills from Texas, had sold the cattle and during a carousel had lost the money. Starting home they robbed the U.S. Mail at Big Springs, splitting in pairs and Collins and one of the cowboys returned by the trail, the others going in other directions. Considerable money was found sewed in their slickers. An acquaintance of Collins at Buffalo sent the news to Hays and a special engine and car brought the soldiers to Buffalo, but the informant did not get the reward. In the Indian raid of 78, the Indians crossed this part of the county along this trail. One white man was killed on south Solomon. Several people were killed on the north Solomon, two women were tortured to death with red hot king bolts. The people here had trouble keeping away from the Indians and watching prairie fires. When the Indians found freight wagons, they tore cloth into strips and tied the strips to their ponies' tails, then they would race about. In the "Price of the Prairie" is a very good description of this raid. Among the people I have heard my father speak of as living in this country in the earlier days was Pete Ribidoux, of Wallace, who traded goods for buffalo hides; Tom Duly and Pat Hickey, who operated a trading place at Hays, later at Ellis; Ace Adair, latest marshall at Ellis; Jim Steerman, near what is now Moreland; Sol Reece, Bill Simpson and S. Larrick on the north Solomon; Bob Fowler, of Brookville; Hays Bros., of Bull City, now Alton. Father came to Osborne from Nebraska with these boys. Ones neighbors were very far apart at that time. Camps, as homes were called, were never locked, provisions were kept there whether at home of not, so that the traveler might find shelter and food, if necessary. No questions were asked of strangers. If he told his name, allright; if not, allright. It was not considered healthy to ask a man his name. Many things happened that he did not investigate. About the only law was a pair of six-shooters. A very large majority of the people were doing right. A horse thief was promptly disposed of, if caught, as a man's horse was an absolute necessity. Occasional bands of rusuers went through the county.
After Buffalo Park was established, a freight trail was made from Lenora to Buffalo. The settlers of the late '70's and early '80's used the trail considerably. Among the people that settled in this county during that time to become identified with the development of this county were : C A. Pearson from the Shafers on the Saline; Abram andJ.F. Pratt, the George Pratt family, of Museum; F.H. Phelps, Dick Lynam, G.W. Taylor, the Waldens, Cresslers, Hopkins, and Charley Johnson, who claims to have helped celebrate my birth, and many others whose names I do not recall at this time. The Wm. T. Holmes family, of which my mother is a member, settled about five miles south of what was Guy in '80, coming from Canada. Grandfather Holmes broke a small piece of ground and planted wheat. In harvesting this wheat, father's acquaintance with my mother began. He had rounded up some wild cattle and was driving them home past this field where grandfather and two girls were pulling up this wheat by hand. He was obliged to gather cattle for several days afterwards. Father and Mother were married in October 1881. In '80, an earthquake shock was felt in the country. Two brothers named Martin lived on Martin Creek, one a sort of half-wit, shot Into a tree in front of their dugout, thinking someone was trying to pull the ridge pole of their dugout, so noticeable was the quake here. Father sold out at Museum in '81 and settled at the mouth of Sand Creek. My first recollections are of the hard winters of '85 and '86. No food was provided for wintering stock. Cow hides were plentiful the spring of '86, many people losing all of their cattle. Up to the '90's, stock was run on grass. When storms came, the cattle drifted with them. The length of the storm determined how far they would drift - sometimes as far as the Smoky. Weak ones would be found sticking in the snow drifts all along the way. After the storm, men went out on their trail looking for his own and neighbor's stock to get them back before another storm, if he could. Most ranchers brought in some ear corn in the fall when the snow was on the ground. They would sack this, going through the herd handing out an ear at a time to the weaker ones. Many range horses were here during the '80's. These horses were rounded up when wanted by several men. One or more would start the bunch, which would run, being turned at intervals by riders until they were running in a sort of a circle for several miles, gradually drawing nearer to the corral by a broked horse. There he would be roped, usually by the forefoot and thrown to be branded or haltered. Among my first recollections in watching this work, it required much hard riding. One of the worst troubles of the stockmen was Texas itch. In winter, cattle developed great sores, often most of the hair coming off their backs. After '80 and '85, people began to provide some food for storms, also some shelter. At this time, the country was settling very fast. Most land open to entry being taken up, speculators buying desirable railroad land in large quantities. The settlers were mostly single men or young couples, most of whom abandoned their claims in a few years, some without making proof, others as soon as proof could be made and the land mortgaged for enough to get away on. During this time, most of these people would go east to work, returning to live on their land or claims only as much as die law required. Many hired their homestead work done, having neither the tools nor work horses. Many timber claims were filed, proof on which required a certain number of live trees. Very few were made. Tom L. Pratt was one of the few who really raised a grove. Most of the claims were plowed yearly and planted with locust seed - rows about twelve feet apart. I believe sometimes corn was planted between the rows, usually to be destroyed by range cattle or horses. Later, by act of Congress, die claims were allowed entry as homesteads. About '91, some barley, corn, wheat and broom corn was being raised. T.M. Walker did much to encourage the raising of broom corn, having a great deal planted on his own account, but the low prices of the '90's put an end to the broom corn industry.
A steam threshing rig was operated in the early '90's, east and northeast of Hoxie, by John Thompson and John Talbot - the first in the country., I think. I believe it was in '92. About 1890, alfalfa was introduced in this country by Harry Williamson, or the Moses ranch near Grainfield. Uncle Jim Grinnell had a small field east of Hoxie. After '96, this became a very popular forage crop. A child's memories are naturally limited, but I believe the crops of '91 and '92 were very good, considering acreage. "93 and '94 were very lean years. Speaking of our family, our diet was chiefly beans, fat bacon and corn meal. I have not cared much for mush or boiled beans since. Several cars of "aid" were shipped to this county from the east in '94. One car sent by Lew Blakely and others, of Carrolton, Missouri, was distributed by my father, E.H. McCracken and J.S. Turner. It consisted mostly of clothing and flour, some dried fruits this fruit tasted mighty good even though only a few pounds to a family. Blakely owned some land near Guy. About this time, the Salina-Colby railroad was built, he and others organized a company to build a water-power flour mill at Guy. Work progressed as far as quarrying a considerable amount of rock and hauling them down to the mill site. Quite a large town-site was laid out at Guy by Hopkins and his son-in-law, C.E. Perkins, the father of John Hopkins, of Grainfield, had a store and post office where F.W. Houseworth now lives. The misses Gertrude Pratt and Annie Pratt (now Mrs. C.A. Taylor) both of Hoxie, were both expert riders and carried mail from Museum to Guy and Hoxie on ponies; later by buck-board. On one of her trips from Hoxie, Mrs. Taylor's pony ran away throwing her from the cart and she received a broken collar bone. Father found the unconscious woman and brought her to our house. The railroad was built in '87 and '88, but did not operate much until about '98. During '93 and '94, some of the cuts were filled with drifting dirt from two to four feet deep. Not enough rain fell during '93 and '94 to sprout seeds. Fourteen months without moisture, the drouth, not really being broken until Decoration Day '95, when a cloudburst struck this country. This was followed by several years of very good crops. The winter of '97 and '98, corn was hauled to Guy, where Bonfield was feeding cattle, at 11 to 14 cents per bushel. Some of this corn was hauled from near the north of Solomon. A sod school house was built a few rods from where J.R. Conard's blacksmith shop now stands. L.M. Grant lived there in '88. Our first school consisted of some twenty or more pupils. Mrs. Viola Draper was the teacher of the pupils, my brother, Charles and I were the only ones here now who entered the first term of school. Prairie fires were a great source of worry for the settlers during the '80's and '90's. One fire in '89 started near the north Solomon and burned to the Smoky River. A very high wind was blowing, making it impossible to stop the fire. Homes were saved by backfires, splitting the main fire. Many piles of cow chips that had been gathered for winter fuel caught fire and smoldered for many months afterwards. Women and children did very little going to town in those days. My first trip to town that I remember was in '91 and/or '92. My principle memory of that trip was seeing E.P. Werda, then druggist at Hoxie, riding a bicycle with a high wheel and a very low one. I took my first train ride after I was 18. My father did very little farming. I did no farm work until I was past fourteen. The tools then in use would not be very desirable now. Many children have followed the plow, dropping corn in every third row. One spring, father broke about ten acres of prairie. Charles and I followed, making holes in the sod with hatchets and dropped seed in these holes, covering them by stepping on them.
The grass hook was a tool that was hard on ankles if you struck with instead of pulling. Cane seed was threshed with a flail or raked off the head with a curry comb. We boys would much rather herd than do this work. About '96, large pastures were being built with little attention being given to the section lines. Large herds were summered in these pastures and shipped in the fall. Four pastures controlled by Tom L. Pratt, George H. Pratt, Benton & Hopkins, Fowler and Marshall, occupied a large part of the valley, Saline and Springbrook townships. After 1900, the county was setded very fast. Quite a contrast are the many modern homes of today to the dugouts and sod houses of what seems but a few days ago. Saddle pony to buggy to automobile. Pony mail routes to radio. As I look back, it seems unreal. Thus has gone more than 41 years in Sheridan County. May I see the changes of 41 more. -J.F. Morgan (John Franklin Morgan, eldest of seven Morgan children, 1882-1937.)
Some Early Day History Concerning This County: Sheridan
By way of introduction, I will say my father settled at Museum in '71, so named because of Indian and other relics found there - now the home of George Pratt. This county had not been surveyed at this time. Supplies were brought from Fort Hays. He was handling cattle on shares for a man at Brookville, whose name I have forgotten. At that time, only four men lived on the south Solomon in what was to be Sheridan County. Cattle were marketed at Hays or Abilene, being driven to one of those points in late summer. Father had been over considerable of this county before with buffalo hunters. The buffalo hides were sold at Hays and Wallace at a dollar each. The Dodge City and Black Hills trail struck at what is now Buffalo Park, a half-way place between Hays and Wallace. Signs of this trail may be seen on the Hardy Bradbury ranch east of Hoxie. Near there was Camp Scripture where cowboys might quench their thirst and also try their luck on the green cloth. The trail struck north Solomon near the George Kious place. To the Kious family was born the first white child in Sheridan County. It was just south of Buffalo on Big Creek where they were camped for dinner that Joel Collins and one of his cowboys were killed by cavalry troops from Hays. Collins and seven of his cowboys who had taken a herd of beeves to the Black Hills from Texas, had sold the cattle and during a carousel had lost the money. Starting home they robbed the U.S. Mail at Big Springs, splitting in pairs and Collins and one of the cowboys returned by the trail, the others going in other directions. Considerable money was found sewed in their slickers. An acquaintance of Collins at Buffalo sent the news to Hays and a special engine and car brought the soldiers to Buffalo, but the informant did not get the reward. In the Indian raid of 78, the Indians crossed this part of the county along this trail. One white man was killed on south Solomon. Several people were killed on the north Solomon, two women were tortured to death with red hot king bolts. The people here had trouble keeping away from the Indians and watching prairie fires. When the Indians found freight wagons, they tore cloth into strips and tied the strips to their ponies' tails, then they would race about. In the "Price of the Prairie" is a very good description of this raid. Among the people I have heard my father speak of as living in this country in the earlier days was Pete Ribidoux, of Wallace, who traded goods for buffalo hides; Tom Duly and Pat Hickey, who operated a trading place at Hays, later at Ellis; Ace Adair, latest marshall at Ellis; Jim Steerman, near what is now Moreland; Sol Reece, Bill Simpson and S. Larrick on the north Solomon; Bob Fowler, of Brookville; Hays Bros., of Bull City, now Alton. Father came to Osborne from Nebraska with these boys. Ones neighbors were very far apart at that time. Camps, as homes were called, were never locked, provisions were kept there whether at home of not, so that the traveler might find shelter and food, if necessary. No questions were asked of strangers. If he told his name, allright; if not, allright. It was not considered healthy to ask a man his name. Many things happened that he did not investigate. About the only law was a pair of six-shooters. A very large majority of the people were doing right. A horse thief was promptly disposed of, if caught, as a man's horse was an absolute necessity. Occasional bands of rusuers went through the county.
After Buffalo Park was established, a freight trail was made from Lenora to Buffalo. The settlers of the late '70's and early '80's used the trail considerably. Among the people that settled in this county during that time to become identified with the development of this county were : C A. Pearson from the Shafers on the Saline; Abram andJ.F. Pratt, the George Pratt family, of Museum; F.H. Phelps, Dick Lynam, G.W. Taylor, the Waldens, Cresslers, Hopkins, and Charley Johnson, who claims to have helped celebrate my birth, and many others whose names I do not recall at this time. The Wm. T. Holmes family, of which my mother is a member, settled about five miles south of what was Guy in '80, coming from Canada. Grandfather Holmes broke a small piece of ground and planted wheat. In harvesting this wheat, father's acquaintance with my mother began. He had rounded up some wild cattle and was driving them home past this field where grandfather and two girls were pulling up this wheat by hand. He was obliged to gather cattle for several days afterwards. Father and Mother were married in October 1881. In '80, an earthquake shock was felt in the country. Two brothers named Martin lived on Martin Creek, one a sort of half-wit, shot Into a tree in front of their dugout, thinking someone was trying to pull the ridge pole of their dugout, so noticeable was the quake here. Father sold out at Museum in '81 and settled at the mouth of Sand Creek. My first recollections are of the hard winters of '85 and '86. No food was provided for wintering stock. Cow hides were plentiful the spring of '86, many people losing all of their cattle. Up to the '90's, stock was run on grass. When storms came, the cattle drifted with them. The length of the storm determined how far they would drift - sometimes as far as the Smoky. Weak ones would be found sticking in the snow drifts all along the way. After the storm, men went out on their trail looking for his own and neighbor's stock to get them back before another storm, if he could. Most ranchers brought in some ear corn in the fall when the snow was on the ground. They would sack this, going through the herd handing out an ear at a time to the weaker ones. Many range horses were here during the '80's. These horses were rounded up when wanted by several men. One or more would start the bunch, which would run, being turned at intervals by riders until they were running in a sort of a circle for several miles, gradually drawing nearer to the corral by a broked horse. There he would be roped, usually by the forefoot and thrown to be branded or haltered. Among my first recollections in watching this work, it required much hard riding. One of the worst troubles of the stockmen was Texas itch. In winter, cattle developed great sores, often most of the hair coming off their backs. After '80 and '85, people began to provide some food for storms, also some shelter. At this time, the country was settling very fast. Most land open to entry being taken up, speculators buying desirable railroad land in large quantities. The settlers were mostly single men or young couples, most of whom abandoned their claims in a few years, some without making proof, others as soon as proof could be made and the land mortgaged for enough to get away on. During this time, most of these people would go east to work, returning to live on their land or claims only as much as die law required. Many hired their homestead work done, having neither the tools nor work horses. Many timber claims were filed, proof on which required a certain number of live trees. Very few were made. Tom L. Pratt was one of the few who really raised a grove. Most of the claims were plowed yearly and planted with locust seed - rows about twelve feet apart. I believe sometimes corn was planted between the rows, usually to be destroyed by range cattle or horses. Later, by act of Congress, die claims were allowed entry as homesteads. About '91, some barley, corn, wheat and broom corn was being raised. T.M. Walker did much to encourage the raising of broom corn, having a great deal planted on his own account, but the low prices of the '90's put an end to the broom corn industry.
A steam threshing rig was operated in the early '90's, east and northeast of Hoxie, by John Thompson and John Talbot - the first in the country., I think. I believe it was in '92. About 1890, alfalfa was introduced in this country by Harry Williamson, or the Moses ranch near Grainfield. Uncle Jim Grinnell had a small field east of Hoxie. After '96, this became a very popular forage crop. A child's memories are naturally limited, but I believe the crops of '91 and '92 were very good, considering acreage. "93 and '94 were very lean years. Speaking of our family, our diet was chiefly beans, fat bacon and corn meal. I have not cared much for mush or boiled beans since. Several cars of "aid" were shipped to this county from the east in '94. One car sent by Lew Blakely and others, of Carrolton, Missouri, was distributed by my father, E.H. McCracken and J.S. Turner. It consisted mostly of clothing and flour, some dried fruits this fruit tasted mighty good even though only a few pounds to a family. Blakely owned some land near Guy. About this time, the Salina-Colby railroad was built, he and others organized a company to build a water-power flour mill at Guy. Work progressed as far as quarrying a considerable amount of rock and hauling them down to the mill site. Quite a large town-site was laid out at Guy by Hopkins and his son-in-law, C.E. Perkins, the father of John Hopkins, of Grainfield, had a store and post office where F.W. Houseworth now lives. The misses Gertrude Pratt and Annie Pratt (now Mrs. C.A. Taylor) both of Hoxie, were both expert riders and carried mail from Museum to Guy and Hoxie on ponies; later by buck-board. On one of her trips from Hoxie, Mrs. Taylor's pony ran away throwing her from the cart and she received a broken collar bone. Father found the unconscious woman and brought her to our house. The railroad was built in '87 and '88, but did not operate much until about '98. During '93 and '94, some of the cuts were filled with drifting dirt from two to four feet deep. Not enough rain fell during '93 and '94 to sprout seeds. Fourteen months without moisture, the drouth, not really being broken until Decoration Day '95, when a cloudburst struck this country. This was followed by several years of very good crops. The winter of '97 and '98, corn was hauled to Guy, where Bonfield was feeding cattle, at 11 to 14 cents per bushel. Some of this corn was hauled from near the north of Solomon. A sod school house was built a few rods from where J.R. Conard's blacksmith shop now stands. L.M. Grant lived there in '88. Our first school consisted of some twenty or more pupils. Mrs. Viola Draper was the teacher of the pupils, my brother, Charles and I were the only ones here now who entered the first term of school. Prairie fires were a great source of worry for the settlers during the '80's and '90's. One fire in '89 started near the north Solomon and burned to the Smoky River. A very high wind was blowing, making it impossible to stop the fire. Homes were saved by backfires, splitting the main fire. Many piles of cow chips that had been gathered for winter fuel caught fire and smoldered for many months afterwards. Women and children did very little going to town in those days. My first trip to town that I remember was in '91 and/or '92. My principle memory of that trip was seeing E.P. Werda, then druggist at Hoxie, riding a bicycle with a high wheel and a very low one. I took my first train ride after I was 18. My father did very little farming. I did no farm work until I was past fourteen. The tools then in use would not be very desirable now. Many children have followed the plow, dropping corn in every third row. One spring, father broke about ten acres of prairie. Charles and I followed, making holes in the sod with hatchets and dropped seed in these holes, covering them by stepping on them.
The grass hook was a tool that was hard on ankles if you struck with instead of pulling. Cane seed was threshed with a flail or raked off the head with a curry comb. We boys would much rather herd than do this work. About '96, large pastures were being built with little attention being given to the section lines. Large herds were summered in these pastures and shipped in the fall. Four pastures controlled by Tom L. Pratt, George H. Pratt, Benton & Hopkins, Fowler and Marshall, occupied a large part of the valley, Saline and Springbrook townships. After 1900, the county was setded very fast. Quite a contrast are the many modern homes of today to the dugouts and sod houses of what seems but a few days ago. Saddle pony to buggy to automobile. Pony mail routes to radio. As I look back, it seems unreal. Thus has gone more than 41 years in Sheridan County. May I see the changes of 41 more. -J.F. Morgan (John Franklin Morgan, eldest of seven Morgan children, 1882-1937.)
Feb. 3 -1997
"The years how quickly they pass. The days how swiftly they are. Swift as an Indian's arrow. Fly on like a shooting star." These words are attributed to Abraham Lincoln and they seem appropriate. I attended a military funeral today. This is a ritual which the Veterans of Foreign Wars carries out at the request of a deceased veterans family. It is a very moving ceremony done in a military manner. At the close, the flag of the United States of America is removed from the casket and given to a surviving close relative. This was by no means the first one that I played a part in; however as I sat there my mind began to wander. How distant the past!! How near the future!! As we review the past, the struggles - the dreams born of youth. Oh, how the spirit soared and the whole world lay ahead. There were distant lands that must be seen - deeds that must be done. Some might add, new worlds to conquer. But, no. Mine was never a competitive spirit. Within us all, perhaps buried beneath the mundane events of the day, is a driving force. It points to afar off beacon, a destination if you will. Oh, the pitfalls, the often lonely journey, across the mountain tops and the descent into the valleys and then comes the seemingly final blow. We come to a river so wide, so deep and with a current so swift that it seems that one must abandon the goal. What now - must the goal be abandoned. Many do dear reader, many do. Will you not pause and consider. Does the victory always go to the strong? Is the race always won by the fleetest? Perhaps. Does the plodder finally succeed? Who can say? At this point the words of Winston Churchill seem to apply. He toured the United States after World War II. He was invited to address the student body of a university. The revered leader was raised up in the United Kingdom during those dark days of what appeared to be a dying kingdom. He stood up, looked in to the faces of a generation who were about to go out into the world and he delivered his address. I quote it verbatim. Never surrender. Never surrender. Never surrender. Then he sat down. Were I to analyze my thoughts this morning it seems apparent that I did not follow the great mans advice. Fifty long years have sped by and by all the wisdom of the sages of old down to the present, the course is about to be completed. The end is fast approaching. Were I to review the past and compare the dreams of bygone days with the reality that is similar to the footprints on the sands of time, would I be pleased? No! Oh no! I must not do so. To do so could very well lead to the seed of despair. Many take that route and find themselves wallowing in the slough of despond and there they may very well decide to play God and end it all. Rather it is for us, the living, to go on, dedicated to the task remaining before us. And what is the task? I do not know. From the perspective of many years of living it seems apparent that goals often change and I am fully persuaded that God intended it to be so.
Did those dreams of long ago serve a useful purpose. Indeed yes. I believe they did. Why would any one labor on to a goal of futility. We need not surrender hut perhaps the road to victory calls for us to alter the battle plan. No, never will I allow my spirit to sink. I face the future with a better understanding of the limitations that we all have. I was but given a fleeting glimpse of an opportunity. This is not the time to disclose the facts. We shall await the outcome with courage.
"The years how quickly they pass. The days how swiftly they are. Swift as an Indian's arrow. Fly on like a shooting star." These words are attributed to Abraham Lincoln and they seem appropriate. I attended a military funeral today. This is a ritual which the Veterans of Foreign Wars carries out at the request of a deceased veterans family. It is a very moving ceremony done in a military manner. At the close, the flag of the United States of America is removed from the casket and given to a surviving close relative. This was by no means the first one that I played a part in; however as I sat there my mind began to wander. How distant the past!! How near the future!! As we review the past, the struggles - the dreams born of youth. Oh, how the spirit soared and the whole world lay ahead. There were distant lands that must be seen - deeds that must be done. Some might add, new worlds to conquer. But, no. Mine was never a competitive spirit. Within us all, perhaps buried beneath the mundane events of the day, is a driving force. It points to afar off beacon, a destination if you will. Oh, the pitfalls, the often lonely journey, across the mountain tops and the descent into the valleys and then comes the seemingly final blow. We come to a river so wide, so deep and with a current so swift that it seems that one must abandon the goal. What now - must the goal be abandoned. Many do dear reader, many do. Will you not pause and consider. Does the victory always go to the strong? Is the race always won by the fleetest? Perhaps. Does the plodder finally succeed? Who can say? At this point the words of Winston Churchill seem to apply. He toured the United States after World War II. He was invited to address the student body of a university. The revered leader was raised up in the United Kingdom during those dark days of what appeared to be a dying kingdom. He stood up, looked in to the faces of a generation who were about to go out into the world and he delivered his address. I quote it verbatim. Never surrender. Never surrender. Never surrender. Then he sat down. Were I to analyze my thoughts this morning it seems apparent that I did not follow the great mans advice. Fifty long years have sped by and by all the wisdom of the sages of old down to the present, the course is about to be completed. The end is fast approaching. Were I to review the past and compare the dreams of bygone days with the reality that is similar to the footprints on the sands of time, would I be pleased? No! Oh no! I must not do so. To do so could very well lead to the seed of despair. Many take that route and find themselves wallowing in the slough of despond and there they may very well decide to play God and end it all. Rather it is for us, the living, to go on, dedicated to the task remaining before us. And what is the task? I do not know. From the perspective of many years of living it seems apparent that goals often change and I am fully persuaded that God intended it to be so.
Did those dreams of long ago serve a useful purpose. Indeed yes. I believe they did. Why would any one labor on to a goal of futility. We need not surrender hut perhaps the road to victory calls for us to alter the battle plan. No, never will I allow my spirit to sink. I face the future with a better understanding of the limitations that we all have. I was but given a fleeting glimpse of an opportunity. This is not the time to disclose the facts. We shall await the outcome with courage.
ROBERT^
It would not be correct to say that I knew him well. In my earliest recollections he was working on a Case Model K tractor. You may well ask what is a Case Model K? It was a four cylinder machine built by the J.C. Case company. This particular model was produced in 1919 and along with a separator built by the same company constituted a small grain trashing rig owned and operated by my father. Tractors and many other machines were not very reliable in those days. I cannot remember ever seeing the rig in operation, however it seems to me that the tractor needed a great deal of attention and Robert was usually the mechanic. These memories must come from a time period of the early Twenties. How do I know this? In about 1924 he and my brother Julius went with a local contractor to Liberal, Kansas where they built what I believe was a school building. After that time he was only at home on visits. I believe it was the year 1926 when he went to the Black Hills of South Dakota. This was at the request of Uncle Bob (Agnes Cline and Herrold Morgan's father). He had some business arrangement with Uncle Bob whereby he worked as part owner and operator of what was known as the Woods Ranch. This was a cattle and farming operation. Brother Julius joined him about a year later. His early boyhood fitted him well for this because he had a great deal of experience riding broncs or should I say breaking them to the saddle and handling cattle. Another incident 1 can remember occurred while he was still at home. On weekdays it was the custom to bring the work horses in from pasture and feed and harness them before breakfast. Rare was the day when at least one team was not needed for the days work. Dad and I were sleeping out under some walnut trees. We often slept outside in summer. We were still in bed that morning when Robert's voice awakened me. He said "Nig is dead." Nig was one of our work mules. He was born in 1905 so our birthdays were separated by fourteen years. Except for brief visits I saw him very little after I was seven years old. I think that as an older brother he often felt the need to discipline me. I was never really close to him. He died in the spring of 1953. At that time he was operating a sawmill at Pringle, So. Dakota. His family still operates it as this is written. (1997) By now you know that he was my brother, the eldest of a family of ten children. His body is buried in a cemetery at Pringle, So. Dakota. More about the ranch later.
It would not be correct to say that I knew him well. In my earliest recollections he was working on a Case Model K tractor. You may well ask what is a Case Model K? It was a four cylinder machine built by the J.C. Case company. This particular model was produced in 1919 and along with a separator built by the same company constituted a small grain trashing rig owned and operated by my father. Tractors and many other machines were not very reliable in those days. I cannot remember ever seeing the rig in operation, however it seems to me that the tractor needed a great deal of attention and Robert was usually the mechanic. These memories must come from a time period of the early Twenties. How do I know this? In about 1924 he and my brother Julius went with a local contractor to Liberal, Kansas where they built what I believe was a school building. After that time he was only at home on visits. I believe it was the year 1926 when he went to the Black Hills of South Dakota. This was at the request of Uncle Bob (Agnes Cline and Herrold Morgan's father). He had some business arrangement with Uncle Bob whereby he worked as part owner and operator of what was known as the Woods Ranch. This was a cattle and farming operation. Brother Julius joined him about a year later. His early boyhood fitted him well for this because he had a great deal of experience riding broncs or should I say breaking them to the saddle and handling cattle. Another incident 1 can remember occurred while he was still at home. On weekdays it was the custom to bring the work horses in from pasture and feed and harness them before breakfast. Rare was the day when at least one team was not needed for the days work. Dad and I were sleeping out under some walnut trees. We often slept outside in summer. We were still in bed that morning when Robert's voice awakened me. He said "Nig is dead." Nig was one of our work mules. He was born in 1905 so our birthdays were separated by fourteen years. Except for brief visits I saw him very little after I was seven years old. I think that as an older brother he often felt the need to discipline me. I was never really close to him. He died in the spring of 1953. At that time he was operating a sawmill at Pringle, So. Dakota. His family still operates it as this is written. (1997) By now you know that he was my brother, the eldest of a family of ten children. His body is buried in a cemetery at Pringle, So. Dakota. More about the ranch later.
JULIUS
He was born in 1906, the second child of Frank and Elsie Morgan. I was rather close to him although about thirteen years separated us. I have a mental picture which goes back to 1922. That was the year that the family moved to the place where 1 grew to manhood. The move was only about one and one half miles. The picture is of Julius driving the team hitched to a hayrack. The rack was loaded with household goods and I was riding with Julius. We were turning into the yard of our new home. Another recollection is walking in the furrow behind him as he broke virgin sod with a team of two horses pulling a breaking plow. The plow cut about a twelve or fourteen inch furrow and it had two handles at the rear. The operator walked behind it and controlled it with the handles. Two to three acres was considered a good days work. Julius went to the Black Hills sometime after Robert. They bached and operated the ranch until the mid thirties. Actually they left the ranch with very little. The drouth of the early thirties and low prices made the times hard. Julius went to work for Uncle Bob and also got married to Stella Weatherly. Robert went to work in a sawmill owned and operated by a man named Pitts. He later bought the mill. Julius worked at various jobs and finally became a capable cement finisher. The war came and cement airplane runways were being built. His skill was in demand. He worked for a branch of the firm Morrison-Knudeson. They were a firm that operated worldwide. He worked on airfields in the Dakotas and Montana. After the war he operated as a small private contractor. His specialty was pouring curb and gutters. Emphysema bothered him a great deal and he was forced to move where he could get help if needed. He and Stella moved to Chadron, Neb. Stella died there in the seventies. He was active and alert up to the end. I think that he enjoyed playing cards at the Senior Center. After Stella died he would drive down and visit us for a few days. This became a yearly affair and we enjoyed each others company. Mary enjoyed him too. In 1989 he could not pass a drivers test. He died in 1992 on December 2. And so ended the life of one dear to me. He is buried at the Chadron cemetery. I miss him but life goes on.
He was born in 1906, the second child of Frank and Elsie Morgan. I was rather close to him although about thirteen years separated us. I have a mental picture which goes back to 1922. That was the year that the family moved to the place where 1 grew to manhood. The move was only about one and one half miles. The picture is of Julius driving the team hitched to a hayrack. The rack was loaded with household goods and I was riding with Julius. We were turning into the yard of our new home. Another recollection is walking in the furrow behind him as he broke virgin sod with a team of two horses pulling a breaking plow. The plow cut about a twelve or fourteen inch furrow and it had two handles at the rear. The operator walked behind it and controlled it with the handles. Two to three acres was considered a good days work. Julius went to the Black Hills sometime after Robert. They bached and operated the ranch until the mid thirties. Actually they left the ranch with very little. The drouth of the early thirties and low prices made the times hard. Julius went to work for Uncle Bob and also got married to Stella Weatherly. Robert went to work in a sawmill owned and operated by a man named Pitts. He later bought the mill. Julius worked at various jobs and finally became a capable cement finisher. The war came and cement airplane runways were being built. His skill was in demand. He worked for a branch of the firm Morrison-Knudeson. They were a firm that operated worldwide. He worked on airfields in the Dakotas and Montana. After the war he operated as a small private contractor. His specialty was pouring curb and gutters. Emphysema bothered him a great deal and he was forced to move where he could get help if needed. He and Stella moved to Chadron, Neb. Stella died there in the seventies. He was active and alert up to the end. I think that he enjoyed playing cards at the Senior Center. After Stella died he would drive down and visit us for a few days. This became a yearly affair and we enjoyed each others company. Mary enjoyed him too. In 1989 he could not pass a drivers test. He died in 1992 on December 2. And so ended the life of one dear to me. He is buried at the Chadron cemetery. I miss him but life goes on.
March 8,1997 •
I must tell you about my neighbor, Vivian. For the better part of fifty years we lived on adjoining farmsteads. There was a special bond between our families. We had a great deal in common. Mary, my wife, was born here and Vivian moved here as a bride in 1940. Thus you can see that our families shared many years together. The children all completed the 4-H program. Clarence, her husband, and I often worked together. We differed somewhat in our religious views; but we often discussed it and it in no way came between us. We could work together very well. In fact he is the only neighbor that I traded work with. Clarence and Vivian raised six children and put them all through college. They were a very frugal family and it amazed me that they were able to finance all this from the income from a small farm. We were very close and good neighbors and the amazing thing is that we had very different goals. I believe it is fair to state that the driving force behind their desire for their childrens' college education was motivated by a vision of financial success. Mary and I held a different view. We merely wished that our children would use their God given skills in a manner that would enrich their lives. Needless to say there are few college degrees in our family. Several years were spent in various college classrooms but a great deal of their preparation for a career was done outside the formal classroom. I have no regrets. This is just another example of the God given uniqueness of the individual. But, on with the story. Clarence died in the early eighties. From that time forward my neighbor Vivian and I worked together operating her farm. Now that period has come to an end. I now have new neighbors. She sold the farm. I doubt if the new neighbors and I will have much in common. Of all the women that 1 have known, Mary, and memory of her will always be in first place. Vivian would come in second place. We too share a very different but special bond. I cannot explain it nor shall I attempt to. She is a part of my cherished memories. Can yon understand that, my children? I believe you can and will because it is true
I must tell you about my neighbor, Vivian. For the better part of fifty years we lived on adjoining farmsteads. There was a special bond between our families. We had a great deal in common. Mary, my wife, was born here and Vivian moved here as a bride in 1940. Thus you can see that our families shared many years together. The children all completed the 4-H program. Clarence, her husband, and I often worked together. We differed somewhat in our religious views; but we often discussed it and it in no way came between us. We could work together very well. In fact he is the only neighbor that I traded work with. Clarence and Vivian raised six children and put them all through college. They were a very frugal family and it amazed me that they were able to finance all this from the income from a small farm. We were very close and good neighbors and the amazing thing is that we had very different goals. I believe it is fair to state that the driving force behind their desire for their childrens' college education was motivated by a vision of financial success. Mary and I held a different view. We merely wished that our children would use their God given skills in a manner that would enrich their lives. Needless to say there are few college degrees in our family. Several years were spent in various college classrooms but a great deal of their preparation for a career was done outside the formal classroom. I have no regrets. This is just another example of the God given uniqueness of the individual. But, on with the story. Clarence died in the early eighties. From that time forward my neighbor Vivian and I worked together operating her farm. Now that period has come to an end. I now have new neighbors. She sold the farm. I doubt if the new neighbors and I will have much in common. Of all the women that 1 have known, Mary, and memory of her will always be in first place. Vivian would come in second place. We too share a very different but special bond. I cannot explain it nor shall I attempt to. She is a part of my cherished memories. Can yon understand that, my children? I believe you can and will because it is true
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