THE 1880’S IMMIGRATION AND OUTLAWS

  “The Rainsbarger boys had a thresher when I was a child and we had them do our threshing. In later years when they became notorious as the Rainsbarger gang, and four of them were jailed. Two were lynched by the Vigilance Committee and two were tried, found guilty, and were sent to the State Penitentiary. They were nice men when they threshed for us and even stayed all night at our place several times.” 

 

“Those huge straw piles were a delight. What fun to climb to the top and slide down, dig caves into the side and play “keep house” using pumpkins for children, which we would dress up in our old petticoats.” 

 

“Sometimes we got into the cornfield and picked ears that had long silks and played they were our babies. That was cut short when the folks found it out as the corn was too green to pick.” 

 

“When corn was ripe there were husking bees. Neighbors brought teams and in a day picked several acres clean. In the evening they brought their girls and we would dance and play party games. Nearly all the games had kissing in them, which was what they all wanted. We would roll the platter, play button button, post office, and mesmerize. To mesmerize one party would have a clean plate and the other a plate that was blackened with soot on the bottom. The one with the clean plate told the other person to do as he did. He would rub the bottom of the plate with his finger then rub his cheek and keep on until the other fellow had black spots all over his face. He was then told to look in the mirror, and lo what a face he saw.” 

 

“One day Clara and Charlie had gone to the woods to bring home the cows and when they came in we saw that Clara’s ankle was badly swollen. She had been bitten by a snake, an rattler they thought. Staying with us was a Civil War veteran, Levi Loomis, who always had whiskey on hand. He gave Clara a dose of whiskey and had Charlie suck the wound to get the poison out. He sucked and spit until Levi said it was enough. Clara’s leg was swollen up to her knee. She was sick and unable to walk for a week. Levi had been wounded in the Civil War and received a monthly pension. When his check came he went into town and got gloriously drunk and stayed until his money was gone and then he came back and grubbed stumps for his board. He slept in the hay mow in summer and in winter usually lived elsewhere as we had no room for him in the house. Many years later Clara ministered to him in his last days. She was living in Steamboat Rock and Levi, then a very old man, was living alone in an old house just across the street from Clara’s home. She carried food to him in his last illness, saw that he had a doctor and that he was properly buried. He received a pension until his death so had something to pay for his simple needs.”

 

“When my brothers and sisters first attended school they used the McGuffey readers. A German, Carl Struck, was living with us and the children taught him to read English. One of the stories in the reader was about a little girl who had a wax doll, also there was a pet monkey in the family. One day the doll was left where the monkey could get it. He picked it up and held it close to the stove and as the wax melted from the face the monkey washed and washed it until the poor dolly had no face left. Carl read it this way, “And de monkey rubbed de doll all off of its face.” We laughed at him, but he kept on studying. Years later I taught the Goose Creek School and his three sons and one daughter were my pupils.”

 

“My first teacher was Mary Doud, and a sweet girl she was. One day I climbed on top of my desk and stood there. Martha frantically motioned for me to sit down but I waited until the teacher saw me. She kindly told me to sit in the seat and not try climbing again.” 

 

“The first winter I attended school and one of those “mean men” was teaching and we had a visitor one afternoon, Ed Hamond, who had formerly taught there. I was sitting with Betty Granzow and we whispered. The teacher saw us, came down, grabbed us by the shoulder, shook us and marched us upon the platform from which he had descended. We stood there crying on each others shoulders until school closed, probably for an hour. When we got home that night and told our folks about it, father was so angry he didn’t let me go to school any more that winter. I was glad to stay home. The punishment was so humiliating to me I didn’t want to see that man again. He resigned before school ended and another man took his place. These men were Burdock and Nulton and it was a good thing we had both in one winter and never saw them again. They always had big hickory sticks and beat up the boys at the least provocation. Sometimes a small boy was pushed and kicked into the teacher’s desk and the door closed on him.”

 

“One winter we had a woman teacher, Lillian Alden. She was a fiery little lady. One day she had an altercation with Berry Hoyt and tried to shake him. He fought back and they fought all over the school room. Lillian married Phillip Williamson afterwards and some of their daughters were my pupils in the Steamboat Rock schools. When I taught in the Star School two of Mrs. Mary Cummings children were my pupils. Mary had taught my older brothers and sisters.”

 

“Fences, in those days. were not very secure and often in the late summer we were awakened by the call, “The cows are in the corn!” It was out of bed, into our clothes, and all hands out to round them up. Sometimes old bossy got too much green corn, and she would swell up very big. I remember of two cows dying from eating green corn. The neighbors would come to help skin them. After the hide was dried it was sold. The carcass was dragged out into the hills near the river where a pack of wolves would find it, and all of the weird howling at such a feast.” 

 

“There were many large, gray timber wolves in those days. One day as I was going on an errand to a neighbors house a half mile away I met a wolf face to face. We both stopped dead still then I turned and ran for a few rods but thought I must go to Last’s as I had some food for Mrs. Last who was sick following the birth and death of a baby. I cautiously turned and went back but saw no wolf. He, too, perhaps was frightened. When I got to the Last’s home I saw the little dead baby, the first dead person I had ever seen. It was like a little wax doll. I had some flowers mother had sent, which were placed in the coffin.” 

 

“Germans celebrated Ash Wednesday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday. These were “holy days” and we dressed up in our best Sunday clothes and did no manual labor. On Easter morning, whoever woke first, scampered out and broke some branches off the willows, poplars, or birches, now green with tender foliage, and decorated the living room with them. They then took a some of the small branch and came to our beds and gently switched us, singing, “Steepa, Steepa Oster.” 

 

“Old grandmother Williams grumbled and scolded when the boys tore out the fireplace and put in a wood stove. She said she missed it and would take colds. She died of pneumonia soon afterwards.” 

 

“Father had built an arbor at the end of the path that led from the front door through the garden. On each side of the path were goose berry and current shrubs and between the shrubs were chives, parsley, sage, dill, coriander, and various herbs that mother used in bread, cakes, meats, and pickles of all kinds. Along the garden fence was a long row of pie plant, also called rhubarb. We made delicious pie plant pies, current jelly, and, not to be sneered at, was the goose berry sauce.” 

 

“An orchard was planted but the only tree that survived was a transcendent crabapple, which lived for forty years. It had the most delicious crabapples I have ever eaten. I have bought and planted two transcendent crabs, but their apples were not like those on the old home farm.” 

 

“After grandma Williams died, Henry and Reilly sold their shares in the farm to their brother Jim. He had a wife, Mahala, two sons, Elmen and Marion, and a daughter Effie. They were good neighbors, always helpful and kind. Uncle Jim couldn’t read or write. One year we had a school teacher from Webster City, Agnes Briggs. Having known the William’s at Iowa Falls she boarded with them. Agnes was teaching Jim to read and write and Mrs. Williams became jealous. A great scandal arose when Agnes went to the William’s to board. She became very ill and her sister, Theresa, took her place in school for a time. It was said that she had an abortion, but, although I was fourteen or fifteen then, I didn’t understand.” 

 

“I want to say this for Agnes Briggs–she was the best educated teacher we ever had. She taught us the first principals of geography, history, physiology, and grammar. She bought blank newspaper sheets in Eldora, made notebooks, furnished us with pencils, and wrote outlines on the blackboard for us to copy and study. There was something new and interesting every day. Then was when my education really began. Agnes was tall, slender, dark, and rather homely. She was about forty years old. She was English and her language was perfect. We all loved her dearly.” 

 

“Dear Agnes Briggs. You may have erred, but you gave us a start and desire for higher and better learning, and I am sure what you did for the East Bend neighborhood is a star in your crown.” 

 

“I remember some of the beautiful songs she taught us. She was our Sunday School superintendent for a year and a half and our teacher for two years.” 

 

“When I started to school we were using Sanders’ Union Reader. I committed to memory every poem in the school books. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Old rover was the Nimblest Dog That Ever Ran a Race, How Doth the Little Busy Bee, The Child and the Star.” 

 

“We had readers up to the sixth. When they all finished, and we had worked correctly all the examples in advanced arithmetic our schooling in the country was finished.” 

 

“Until Agnes Briggs came we always started at lesson one in the arithmetic at the beginning of the term, so we had a new teacher each term. Agnes tutored us for two years so I got some place beyond long division before she left.”

 

“In those days we planted pumpkins in the corn rows. When these were ripe the cattle and hogs ate them. Some pumpkins grew very large and the seeds were saved from the largest ones for next years crop. When they were ripe pumpkin pies were in order. We raised a variety called sweet pie pumpkin, also Hubbard squash which had a shell so hard we cut it with a hatchet. There is nothing so delicious as baked Hubbard squash with plenty of butter.” 

 

“The largest ears of corn were saved for seed. The husks of two ears were tied together and hung over a pole in the attic. Then in the spring they were shelled by hand and that was a task for the whole family; how sore our fingers got before it was all done. Later they took them to someone who had a corn sheller and got it done there.” 

 

“Picking corn late in the fall was a hard task. Sometimes an early snow would almost cover the stalks that were down and although we wore mittens our hands nearly froze. They got so rough and sore we had to doctor them. Mother would tell us that washing dishes was healing to the hands. None of us liked to wash dishes so when there was a baby, as soon as we left the table we rushed to the cradle to take care of the baby. First one there got out of the dish washing. Sometimes we’d quarrel and almost fight. One would get the baby and another try to take it, we’d pull and haul it until we had it crying and mother had to come and settle the matter.” 

 

“When they were cleaning off the timber the smaller limbs of the trees were piled up and after they were dried we went out at night and burned them. Such huge fires and how we loved to burn the brush. Some of the neighbors came, too, and enjoyed it with us.” 

 

“The potatoes we planted were cut up with an eye or two on each piece. We always planted early rose and a late white variety. The late one for winter storage. Digging potatoes was such a dirty task. They plowed up the row and then we little ones had to dig them out of the turned up soil with our hands. We’d throw them in piles and later sack them. Father sold what he didn’t put in the cellar for our use. He also sold a barrel or two of molasses and various produce at Steamboat Rock and Eldora.” 

 

“One day when he came home from market he brought several yards of challie, a fine woolen material. I think it was dark red with small black figures. He thought he had enough for each of us four girls a dress. We ranged from 8 (my age) to 16 years old. They made Anna and Clara each very nice dresses with ruffles, Martha a very plain one and there was just enough left for me an Eton jacket plain sleeveless. I was disappointed, but the jacket was pretty and I wore it over my dress to Sunday School and special occasions.” 

 

“I usually had only two dresses, a gingham and a calico, but I had two or three aprons made with a ruffle around the armholes and around the low cut neck, and strings sewed in at the waistline and underarm seam which were tied in a bow at the back. They were a little shorter than the dresses and these we always wore to school over the dress. One apron was of very light calico, white with tiny pink and blue figures. These light ones we wore to Sunday School when our dresses got a little old and washed out. In winter we wore long legged red flannel undies, a flannel petticoat, and a quilted one, heavy woolen stockings, high shoes and overshoes. We walked a mile to school and how we carried all that weight I don’t know . We had heavy woolen hoods lined with outing flannel which we crocheted ourselves. In later years we bought our hoods ready made.”

 

“One winter morning, Martha, Emma and I, started to school all bundled so we could hardly see out. One of us had to carry the dinner pail. The snow was pretty deep and when we got about half way, a blizzard struck up. We could hardly wade the snow and walk against the wind. Emma, who was only eight then gave out and we had to take her between us and actually drag her the last few rods. We stumbled into school room and the teacher and some of the older pupils took off our wraps and rubbed our hands and face with snow. That was the best way to thaw us out. Also our feet were thoroughly rubbed with snow. How these frozen places ached and burned when the blood circulated again.” 

 

“That evening someone came after us with the sled, and we never started to school in a blizzard again.”

 

“I was not very apt in arithmetic, but excelled in spelling and reading and still have a Testament and several 8 x 10 chromes given to me by teachers for having the most head marks.” 

 

“In Sunday School we were awarded a prize for learning the most Bible verses by heart. Every three months our teacher awarded these prizes. Usually a card with a scripture text. One Sunday when prize day came, our teacher, Maggie Curtis brought some fans to Sunday School for prizes. She had some pretty ones with flowers printed on them, and one black one. I had memorized the most verses but she gave me the black fan, and I did so want one of the bright pretty ones. My folks couldn’t understand why Maggie would even buy a black fan for a little girl. Anyway it was fun and I strung it on a ribbon and tied it around my waist, as was the custom, and fanned myself when I got hot.” 

 

“One day Martha and I each climbed a tree in the back yard. Mother discovered us and came with a switch. Martha, who was always more nimble than I, got down and ran away. Just as I swung off the last limb my dress caught on a stub and I hung with my feet barely off the ground. Mother had a good chance at me. (Wish I had known about cutting limbs close to the tree trunk as we do now.) My skirt finally tore loose and I fell to the ground. Poor little lame mother. I think Martha and I nearly wore her out sometimes. We would dress up in Charlie’s old clothes and play we were boys, steal some coffee essence and chew a little bit of it , and squirt “tobacco juice”, hollow out a length of corn stalk, stuff it with dry corn silks, and smoke it.” 

 

“Father took us to a big circus once. I suppose it was Barnum’s. After that we played circus, whenever Father and Mother went away for a day. Dogs and cats were our wild animals. One of the little ones walked the tight rope, with someone on each side to hold their hands. We’d “skin the cat” on a rope, turn somersault and probably Barnum would have been surprised at the capers we cut.” 

 

“All the quilts were carried out to make a tent in which to perform. One day we were at it full tilt when we saw the folks coming. How we did rush those quilts into the house. We knew it was wrong to drag those clean quilts out into the dusty yard; but “when the cats away the mice will play”. 

 

“Father made us some house slippers like they wore in Germany. He molded the soles out of soft wood like birch or poplar. The vamp was made from leather which he bought of his friend, Mr. Peisen, the cobbler. Naturally when we walked about on the bare floor the clap, clap of our slippers was plenty noisy. Mother always had soft leather ones on account of her lame foot.” 

 

“One day the children sicked old rover on me, just for fun and to see me run, I guess. I fell down and the dog jumped on to me and bit my shoulder. I was nearly frightened to death, and so afraid of dogs since that day.” 

 

“There were girls who fell by the way in the 1870s. One morning Liza Williams came over and told us that Pink Hoyt had a baby boy. I was standing near a red honeysuckle vine in our front yard and listened as she told Anna about it. I think Pink was about 16. She was club footed and had to have special shoes. Poor little Pink. She was a nice looking girl. The little boy grew up as Orville Hoyt and turned out to be the only good boy in the family. Gene, Orville, and Tiny were in school when I taught at East Bend some years later. Then Effie Williams had a rush marriage to Tom Doud, and a baby boy about 5 months later.” 

 

“The only difference between now and then is that there are so many more folks in the world and so many ways to keep from having a baby. When a girl painted her cheeks red she was considered a fast one by the conservative church goers. Martha and I sometimes gathered the rough leaves of the elm and rubbed our cheeks until they nearly bled to make them red, but it wasn’t a satisfactory process; it roughened the skin and made it sore. We found some artificial roses that had been discarded, and wetting them we painted our cheeks gloriously, but always washed the paint all away before we joined the family. Since coming South to Oklahoma we noticed that women use much more paint than in the North. I don’t know why.”