THE LAKE COUNTY WAR IN COLORADO

Post by Doris McCraw
writing as Angela Raines

Sharing again.

Church in Nathrop, Colorado
Wikipedia

The Lake County War, full of vigilantes, traveling preachers, judges, criminals, and chaos. To this day the true story isn't fully known. Into this mix is Charles Nachtrieb, an early settler in the area. While I knew of the Lake County War, I was unaware of Nachtrieb until research on his daughter, Dr. Josephine Dunlop, brought his story to my attention.

Mr. Nachtreib, born April 20, 1833, in Germany, arrived in the Lake County area around 1859. He was a candidate from Lake County to the convention to admit Colorado as a state in 1865, which was approved by the voters. Although a constitution was adopted, President Andrew Johnson rejected the petition in 1866. (Colorado was not admitted as a state until 1876, becoming known as the Centennial State)

In addition to having a business along with being postmaster in Nathrop, Colorado, Nachtrieb also owned land in Gunnison County where his large ranch was located. (Nathrop is an Anglicized version of Nachtrieb). He is also credited with having the first grist mill west of the Mississippi.

In 1879, Nachtrieb, along with Otto Mears and Issac Gothelf filed article of incorporation with the state for the Poncho (Poncha), Marshall and Gunnison toll road. The toll road was expected to cost twenty-five thousand dollars and run from Poncha Creek in Chaffee County to the Gunnison River. Apparently, there was a verbal agreement between Mears and Nachtrieb that Mears would build from the Gunnison side to the top of Poncha Pass and Nachtrieb would build from the Lake County side. This arrangement came about due to the above-mentioned grist mill and the farming, especially wheat, along with the higher price paid in places like Oro City and other mining communities in the area.

Otto Mears
Wikepedia

On October 3, 1881, according to newspapers of the time, a man named Burt (Bert) Remington shot and killed Nachtrieb in his store. Some reports say he was a disgruntled former employee. Remington escaped and the search was on. On Thursday, October 6, 1881, Governor Pitkin issue a proclamation and offered a reward of $300 dollars for the arrest of Remington. Nachtrieb was forty-nine at the time of his death.

How does the Lake County War fit into all of this?

In 1874 Elijah Gibbs and George Harrington quarreled over property, fencing, and water. About fifteen days later, one of Harrington's outbuildings was set of fire and when he went to deal with the blaze he was shot and killed. Due to the quarrel, Gibbs had with Harrington, he was the prime suspect. Tempers and gossip fueled the incident and soon Gibbs was marked for a lynching. Cooler heads prevailed and they were bound over for trial. With emotions running so high, a change of venue put the trial in Denver. There Gibbs and his hired hand McClish were found not guilty. McClish left the area, but Gibbs returned to his home in Lake County (Now part of Chaffee County).

Things appeared to return to normal, but in January of 1875 the vigilantes got a warrant for assault, for the first quarrel, and went after Gibbs. Gibbs, along with others made a run over South Park and ended up in Colorado City. The sheriff secured warrants and followed them to Denver. Gibbs and his cohorts left the Denver hotel, where the sheriff allowed them to stay, due to implied lynching stories put out by the papers in Denver.

Collegiate Peaks
Photo property of the author

At the end of January of that year, the Committee of Safety organized in response to Gibbs and the Regulators he was purported to be a part of. This Safety Committee, composed of most of the prominent men in the region, including Nachtrieb, intended to rid Lake County of all suspected murderers, cattle thieves, land grabbers, and any other undesirables. In following through with their agenda, the flames grew greater. Anyone coming into the area was questioned, and if they were determined to be 'undesirable' they were asked to leave. One of the men questioned was Judge Elias Dyer, son of the itinerant preacher 'Father' Dyer. He took exception to being told to resign when he told his inquisitors he believed Gibbs was not guilty. Dyer eventually returned to the area and while holding court was shot and killed. There were those who said Dyer, by his actions, brought about his own demise, while others said the opposite.

Judge Dyer, in writing his thoughts in the matter, indicated that the man who killed Charles Nachtrieb was the nephew of Mr. Harrington, the man whose murder started the whole affair. To this day, the who, whats, and wherefores are hidden in time and memories. Story after story offers conflicting information. In the end, was Charles Nachtrieb killed over 'wages' or the 'war'. We may never know. The Lake County War, a year-long, impacted the lives of so many. Like the death of Charles Nachtrieb, we may never know the whole true story.

What I've shared is just a small part of the story of Charles Nachtrieb and the Lake County War. For more on the War, the book by Don and Jean Griswold, “History of Leadville and Lake County Colorado” is a good place to start. There is additional information by Gayle Gresham, whose great great grandfather was also involved, in the book “Rush to the Rockies” published by the PPLD as part of the Regional History Series.

Doris Gardner-McCraw -

Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History

Angela Raines - author: Telling Stories Where Love & History Meet

Books: Angela Raines Books

Photo and Poem: Click Here 

Angela Raines FaceBook: Click Here

Charlie Steel Author BLOGS

Joke.

I talked to an expert at the Antiques Roadshow PBS. The expert was reluctant but I finally got him to appraise me. He said I was old and only worth $88.00. He did say, if I was a Chest of Drawers, I would be worth more.

What's the Score? Seven Men From Now by Henry Vars and By Dunham

So far in my series of film score reviews for Western Fictioneers, I haven’t strayed too far away from the familiar herd of celebrated LPs that populated record store stables during the heyday of wild west cinema.

But there’s a lot of good music out there that —to the best of my knowledge—was never released on vinyl.

With the advent of inexpensive CD production, a variety of companies have gathered some of it together. Saunter over to the wild web, and you’ll find officially licensed ensembles riding herd beside bootleg outlaw tracks.

But today I’m concerned by that lost dogie of the plains. The rambunctious theme or haunting melody never gathered into the remuda and, like a stray yearling, wanders through the wilderness without a brand.

Consider the score for Seven Men From Now (1956). In The Films of Randolph Scott by Robert Nott, the author writes, “Henry Vars’ theme music is hauntingly beautiful and should be better known as a classic Western film soundtrack, and I agree.

Henry Vars (1902 - 1997) was a Polish immigrant. A friend of John Wayne, he composed dozens of film scores, including 50 in Poland and more than 60 in the United States. Known as the Irving Berlin of Poland, he wrote symphonies, theatrical revues, and a piano symphony.

Seven Men From Now stars Randolph Scott with Gail Russell, and Lee Marvin in what would be the first of his revered seven film Ranown series with director Budd Boetticher. Produced by John Wayne’s Batjack production company, it had access to any number of established composers. Elmer Bernstein, Dmitri Tiomkin, and Ray Webb scored films for Wayne. Vars too would score five of seven Batjac films in which Wayne didn’t appear. Seven Men From Now was the first.



Vars penned the title song with By Dunham (1910 - 2001), an American songwriter who also wrote the title song to Wayne’s McLintock. Together, Vars and Dunham would go on to write together and, in 1963, their most famous song was released — the theme to the movie Flipper.

When Seven Men From Now was released, Variety opined that “Henry Vars’ score goes with the story mood, as does the title he wrote with Dunham. Only a snatch of another song, ‘Good Love,’ is heard.”

Much of the soundtrack is constructed around “Good Love” and the “Seven Men” title music, and its unfortunate that it has never been released.

In this case, unlike some of the more famous scores, the best way to hear it is to take in a viewing of the entire film.

After growing up on a Nebraska farm, Richard Prosch worked as a professional writer, artist, and teacher in Wyoming, South Carolina, and Missouri. His western crime fiction captures the fleeting history and lonely frontier stories of his youth where characters aren’t always what they seem, and the windburned landscapes are filled with swift, deadly danger. In 2016, Richard roped the Spur Award for short fiction given by Western Writers of America. Read more at www.RichardProsch.com

MY ANCESTRY JOURNEY--by Cheryl Pierson

Guess what I did on Mother’s Day? I bought MYSELF something I have been wanting for a very long time—a six-month subscription to Ancestry . com! I’ve always wanted to do that, but never did because I just knew I wouldn’t “have time” to use it…but guess what? You really DO make time for the things you love! Even if it’s only 15 or 20 minutes here and there, I always discover something I didn’t know.
I think of how my parents would have love to have had this technology and the ability to use it when they were living! There is such a huge network of people out there that are doing the same thing, and contributing what they have to share, so a person can amass a lot of knowledge in a short time!

A lot of family stories can quickly be proven…or DISproven!

I found out that my gr gr grandfather served in the Civil War for the Union in Missouri—I found his application for his pension! I learned that another couple of relatives never married—not until their children were all grown, married and had kids of their own! That was a shocker. But the marriage license is there to prove it.

I’ve used family history in my stories before on several occasions, but this is beyond anything I could have imagined. I have enjoyed this “journey” so much, so far, and look forward to all the things I’m going to find out (yes, if you do this, be prepared to be surprised and shocked) no matter what my discoveries might yield.

I learned that my gr gr grandfather (the Civil War soldier) also was married three times and had thirteen children! Someone else I don’t know had posted a picture of him on her family tree. I actually got to see him at a luncheon he attended with four other Civil War veterans. In the picture below, he’s on the far right, back row.

I have not started on my mother’s side of the family yet—there is so much I’m learning about my dad’s side right now—I don’t want to get them “mixed up” and believe me, I’m going to have to draw up a family tree so I can actually see it all in black and white to get it straight!

One thing that is unusual is that my gr gr grandmother has a discrepancy in her dates of death. I also read in an obituary someone wrote that she was the daughter of a “Cherokee man and his half-blood wife” –now there is a description for you! In the picture below, George Washington Casey is seen holding one of his granddaughters.

I’m a novice at this, but it’s fun to learn—and I’m sure I’ll come across some more skeletons in the closet here and there…maybe some things I can incorporate into my own stories!

Here's a fun fact: When my son was born, we named him Casey. But...I had never had any clue that "Casey" was a family name, or that my ancestors carried that last name. I had not started my "ancestry journey" yet at that point. Coincidence? Or...some other connection? I've often wondered. When a relative told me she was glad I'd named Casey a "family name" I have to admit, I got chills. I had not had any idea.
Here's my Casey in a pic taken last year. It's hard to make out any family resemblance from the poor quality of the pics of G.W. Casey, except that they both have beards! LOL

Do any of you use Ancestry or any other site like that? Have any of you discovered some interesting facts about your long-ago families that you didn’t know? I’m having such fun with this!

Western Fictioneers Announces the Peacemaker Award Winners

(For Westerns Published in 2019)

BEST WESTERN NOVEL:

NICKEL’S LUCK by S.L. Matthews (Cinch Ranch Publishing)

Finalists:

YESTER’S RIDE, C.K. Crigger (Five Star Publishing)

THIS NEW DAY, Harlan Hague (Graycatbird Books)

TWO THOUSAND GRUELING MILES, L.J. Martin (Wolfpack Publishing)

THE LILY OF THE WEST, Kathleen Morris (Five Star Publishing)

BEST FIRST WESTERN NOVEL:

THE LILY OF THE WEST by Kathleen Morris (Five Star Publishing)

Finalists:

A CROW TO PLUCK, Bob Giel (Oghma Creative Media)

SWEET TWISTED PINE. Lori R. Hodges (Outskirts Press)

THE SURVIVAL OF MARGARET THOMAS, Del Howison (Five Star Publishing)

UNFORSAKEN, John Dwaine McKenna (Rhyolite Press)

BEST SHORT FICTION:

“Leaving the Lariat Trail”, John D. Nesbitt (JOHN D. NESBITT WESTERN DOUBLE, Sundown Press)

Finalists:

“The Assassin”, Patrick Dearen (HOBNAIL, Five Star Publishing)

“Return to Laurel”, John D. Nesbitt (HOBNAIL, Five Star Publishing)

“Aces and Eights”, Michael R. Ritt (CONTENTION, Five Star Publishing)

“Major Reno’s Romance”, Susan Salzer (SADDLEBAG DISPATCHES, SUMMER 2019, Oghma Creative Media)

Western Fictioneers would like to thank the judges for the excellent job they did and the long hours they devoted to reading the submissions.

My 10 favorite Louis L’Amour novels by Kaye Spencer #louislamour #westernfictioneers #westerns

It seems altogether fitting and proper to remember Louis L'Amour for my June article, since June 10, 1998 was, sadly, the day he passed away. There are any number of biographies about him on the Internet, so I won't include a bio here, but his website has entertaining reading about him: Louis L'Amour – Website  http://www.louislamour.com/

The first book of his I read was Last Stand at Papago Wells during my junior high years (c. 1966 – 1968). Long about 10th grade, my literature teacher looked down her nose at his books, because they were so far below my reading level that I wasn't challenging my brain or expanding my literary knowledge. We agreed to disagree, because I was reading plenty of challenging books: The Godfather, Catch-22, Lost Horizon, The Man in the Iron Mask, Pride and Prejudice... You get the idea.

When she finally admitted she'd never read any of his novels, I challenged her to read my favorites at the time (five or so – don’t recall which ones). She agreed if I'd read Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace.

I read War and Peace and went on to read other books by Russian authors. While she didn't love Louis L'Amour, she admitted for reluctant readers, especially boys, his books had value.

So, Win-Win. She never openly criticized my choice of books again.

This is my commemorative Louis L'Amour coin (front and back).

 

Front Inscription: Louis L'Amour

Back Inscription: The Dream is in the mind – Realization in the Hand – Act of Congress 1981

(The image is a mountain in the background with a miner/frontiersman walking ahead of his pack mules.)

 Here are my Top 10 favorite Louis L'Amour books.

1. Last Stand at Papago Wells (1957)
2. The Key-Lock Man (1965)
3. The Man Called Noon (1970)
4. Down the Long Hills (1968)
5. How the West was Won (1962)
6. Conagher (1969)
7. Brionne (1968)
8. The Sackett Brand (1965)
9. Sitka (1957)
10. The Haunted Mesa (1987)

What are your favorite Louis L'Amour books? If you have a Louis L'Amour anecdote or story, it would be great if you'd share your story in the comments or leave a comment on the Facebook post of this article.

Until next time,

Kaye Spencer

Stay in contact with Kaye—

Amazon Author Page | Instagram | Blog | Twitter | Pinterest | Facebook | BookBub

National Beef Jerky Day

June 12 is National Jerky Day. Celebrate by gnawing on a hunk of preserved meat!

Jerky probably originated with some of the South American tribes. The Quechua tribe, ancestors of the Inca, created a similar product they called ch’arki (or charqui). Ch’arki was made by salting and spicing the meat from game animals, then drying it in the sun or over a fire for several days. When the Spanish conquistadors were shown this method of preservation they eagerly adopted it. 

Smoking meat wasn’t new, nor was the end product called ch’arki. It was the addition of the salt and spices beforehand that made this food special. The practice spread as the Spanish colonized the American Southwest. It became a staple foodstuff for pioneers and cowboys.

Making your own jerky is fairly simple. Start with a cut of lean meat, preferably range- or grass-fed for better flavor. Flank steak is a good cut for jerky, as is London broil, rump roast or brisket. You can also use game meat like venison. You’ll need around five pounds of raw meat to make one pound of jerky.

Modern curing solutions add sodium nitrate to the salt water. This stabilizes the color and prevents the meat from becoming rancid. It also prevents the growth of bacteria. This curing solution is mixed with what’s called the brine, which is a mixture of water, spices, sugars, salt, and phosphates. Common spices can include soy sauce, lemon juice, pepper, garlic powder and maybe even monosodium glutamate (MSG). Worchester sauce or teriyaki sauce can be added. You can try different types of sugar, like sucrose, dextrose, brown sugar, or dark corn syrup. And flavored salts can give your brine a kick. Try hickory or onion flavor. Some people add a flavoring known as liquid smoke, which is simply smoke dissolved in water. This will give your jerky a smoky flavor even if you’re not actually using an open fire. You can even add brandy or sherry if you wish.

If your butcher won’t or can’t slice the meat for you, put it in the freezer until it is firm, but not solid. If you press on it, it should give just a little. Using a good serrated knife, cut against the grain as thinly as possible (about 1/8 of an inch thick). You may want to cut the initial chunk of meat in half before you start cutting, then put the other half back in the freezer so it will be firm enough for you to cut up.

Mix your marinade (you can Google different recipes until you find one that sounds good to you) and pour it into a sealable container. Add the meat slices one at a time, making sure they’re fully submerged. Place the container into the refrigerator and leave it for five or six hours, shaking and rotating every thirty minutes.

If you’re actually drying over a smoky fire, it’s going to take at least eight sunny hours to make jerky. Most people use a dehydrator nowadays. Drain the meat on a rack before you add it to the dehydrator. Some people like to totally dry it off, but that will take some of the flavor away. If your dehydrator comes with a catch-tray (or a fruit-jerky tray), place that on the bottom to collect any drippings.

Arrange the meat slices as close together as possible without actually touching one another. If they touch, they’ll stick together and that may inhibit air flow. Set the dehydrator on its highest temperature and plan on a drying time of four to eight hours (depending on the thickness of the meat).

Before storage, go through your jerky and cut it into more manageable pieces. You can also use kitchen shears and snip off any fat that got through your initial check. 

If you don’t have a dehydrator, you can use your oven. Preheat to 175 degrees. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and place a rack over the foil. Dry the beef with paper towels and arrange on the rack as in the dehydrator (not touching). Bake for three or four hours until dry and leathery. Use your kitchen shears to cut into smaller slices.

Enjoy your jerky. If you use one of the modern techniques, spare a thought for your characters, who’d have been sitting beside a smoky fire for eight to twelve hours. Happy Jerky Day!

J.E.S. Hays

www.jeshays.com

www.facebook.com/JESHaysBooks

WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU'VE READ ABOUT, OR ONE YOU'VE CREATED? by Cheryl Pierson

What a great question! I came upon this one when I was answering a questionnaire for another blog and thought it would be a fantastic question to expand on all by itself. Because who among us—writers, readers, or both—DOESN’T have a favorite fictional character?

And it changes, doesn’t it? When I was a little girl, I remember being enthralled with stories of the Color Kittens, Pippi Longstocking, and finally Nancy Drew. Later, heroines such as Kit Tyler—Elizabeth George Speare’s unforgettable character in THE WITCH OF BLACKBIRD POND held my interest.

But I also loved the heroes, too—Hugh O’Donnell, THE FIGHTING PRINCE OF DONEGAL, and Robin Hood, fighting their way to freedom and justice for the people they served! And of course, I was a western lover even then. I was spellbound by Travis and Arliss, the brothers in Fred Gipson’s OLD YELLER, and the sequel, SAVAGE SAM.

Davy Crockett and Mike Fink were favorites, for a while, with books complete with pictures from the Disney series. I couldn’t find an image of the actual books I had, but I did find this one of the “stamp” book—which I also had!

GONE WITH THE WIND was my first “adult” book and I’d seen that movie, so I was enraptured by Scarlett O’Hara. Even at a young

age, the facets of her personality both on the screen and in the book fascinated me. How could she be “all” bad? She gave up so much to save her family…or did she? I still love to think about what a wonderful character Margaret Mitchell gave us to ponder.


The first romance book I ever read was SWEET SAVAGE LOVE by Rosemary Rogers. I can’t tell you how that book changed my life in so many ways. I had never read a book that made me feel as if I was right there in the main character’s skin like I did with Ginny, the heroine. As soon as I finished that book, I turned around and read it again, and it’s on my keeper shelf to this day.

The hero of that book, Steve Morgan, is as hard as they come. But there is a place in his heart for Ginny that no other can fill, and she feels the same for him. I read this book close to 40 years ago, and those characters are still memorable today.

As far as characters I’ve written…all writers know that is nearly an impossible choice. Of course, the first book you ever wrote probably contains your favorite character(s)—even if that wasn’t the first book you ever published! They are your first loves, the reason you started writing in the first place.

The first book an author publishes holds an unforgettable place in their hearts, as well. Those characters were the ones that people were able to read about, to relate to, and to give the author feedback on.

The current book is one that is full of hopes, dreams, and promise—just like the ones before. Will people love your characters as much as you do, or will it flop?

Then there are the books that are “experiments”—maybe shorter, longer, or a different genre. How did others like those characters…but moreover, how did YOU like the characters you created?

My favorite male character I’ve created is one that was the “star” of my first book—the one that has never seen the light of day. I still have hopes and plans to rework it and get it out there, but it’s LONNNNNG. But Johnny Brandon is a man’s man, and he’s going to have his vengeance no matter what. Still…there’s room for love—though he is an unwilling participant in the beginning. As always, things have a way of working out for the best, but he kept me on my toes the entire time I was working on that manuscript, and he’s utterly unforgettable.

Probably the couple that were “the odd couple” for me were U.S. Deputy Marshal Jaxson McCall and runaway debutante, Callie Buchanan in THE HALF-BREED’S WOMAN. Jax is hired “on the side” to go after Callie who has run away from her stepfather, a prominent socialite in Washington, D.C. She is headed west, into his familiar territory. He tracks her easily enough, but when he catches up with her, he realizes that his instincts were right—there’s something terribly wrong with her stepfather’s “worry” about her disappearance. Their relationship becomes something neither of them expected, and when Callie’s stepfather comes after them both, Jax realizes he’s got to pull out all the stops to keep Callie safe from the man who is evil to the core.

But Callie has lost so much in her life, she’s determined she’s not going to lose Jax—or her life. She surprised me several times, and I loved the way she grew as a character and found her own strength and bravery as time went by.

What’s your favorite fictional character you’ve read, or one you’ve created?

Here's the buy link at AMAZON for THE HALF-BREED'S WOMAN!
https://www.amazon.com/Half-Breeds-Woman-Cheryl-Pierson/dp/1496128966/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1503888273&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Half+Breed%27s+Woman

JUMPING OFF - Mississippi River Towns

Post by Doris McCraw
writing as Angela Raines

Photo property of the Author

In the expansion of the West the journeys began somewhere. Some people sailed to the West Coast, others came from Mexico while others came West across the plains. In order to reach those plains,  Rocky Mountains, and the coast they had to cross the Mississippi River. Additionally, commerce and travel in the early days depended on waterways. So important was this route that canals were built to connect various rivers and bodies of water.

This post will look at some of those river towns, especially between the years of 1800-1860 in the states of Illinois, Iowa, and Missouri.

Most know of St. Louis, now known as the 'Gateway to the West', but there were other towns that had their fair share of river traffic.

Galena, Illinois, in the northern part of the state, is located on the Fever River which was deep enough for steamboats to navigate when they began running along the upper Mississippi. The town began because of lead. Founded in 1818, it was an important port and trading post until the Civil War. On a side note, General Grant arrived in 1860 lived there until the war. He returned in 1879 and remained until 1881.

Nauvoo, Illinois, is best known for the jumping-off point of the Mormans (LDS) on their westward trek to Salt Lake City. The town, however, had other iterations being located on the northern part of the Des Moines Rapids. Since the rapids were unpassable with heavy ladened boats, they were offloaded downriver in another river town, Warsaw, Illinois, and reloaded near Nauvoo to continue their northern journey.



Kaskaskia, Illinois, has a unique history. When the current site of the town was founded, and at one time the territorial capital of Illinois, the Mississippi River was three miles away. By 1881, when the Mississippi flooded yet again, the town found itself an island on that mighty river, for the channel along the river had changed.

LeClaire, Iowa, has a long history, located where the Mississippi makes a turn to the West. It is also near the beginnings of rapids in that area. It also had a boatyard and built a number of riverboats.

Guttenberg, Iowa, like Galena, Illinois had lead which was mined. There was also a ferry, and later it became a rail town serving the farms in the area.

Fort Madison, Iowa, began life as a fort, the spot having been recommended by Zebulon Pike during his expedition to locate the headwaters of the Mississippi in 1805.

Hannibal, Missouri, is probably best known as the home town of Samuel Clemmens (Mark Twain) and Margaret Tobin (Margaret 'Molly' Brown). It was primarily a steamboat landing and after the Civil War, a landing for the logging taking place in Minnesota and Michigan.

1811-1812 Overview of the New Madrid Earthquake (USGS photo)

New Madrid, Missouri, was founded in 1789. Probably best known as the center of the earthquakes that rocked the Mid-West during 1811-12. There was also a Civil War battle on an island near the town, known as the Battle of Island Ten.

Sainte Genevieve, Missouri, was part of a series of settlements by the French during the early to mid-1700s. It was a river port, shipping iron ore, marble, and granite from the mines in Missouri.

There are many stories towns in this tri-state area. Below are links for those who want to just spend some time learning about the Mississippi River and the towns whose life and death are closely tied together by this waterway.

https://mississippivalleytraveler.com/illinois-river-towns/
https://mississippivalleytraveler.com/iowa-river-towns/
https://mississippivalleytraveler.com/missouri-mississippi-river-towns/

Other resources you might like:
"The History of Warsaw Illinois" by Brian Stutzman
"Cahokia- Ancient America's Great City on the Mississippi" by Timothy R. Pauketat
"On Shaky Ground: The New Madrid Earthquakes of 1811-1812" by Norma Hayes Bagnall

Doris Gardner-McCraw -

Author, Speaker, Historian-specializing in
Colorado and Women's History

Angela Raines - author: Where Love & History Meet

Books: Angela Raines Books

Angela Raines FaceBook: Click Here

REMEMBRANCE by Cheryl Pierson

Many years ago, my aunt entered an essay contest at Austin College in Texas. Aunt JoAnne was my dad’s younger sister. Her essay was about hog-killing time on their small farm in southeastern Oklahoma, but in her rich way of telling a story, she said so much more.

Aunt JoAnne was my dad’s only sister, and she was a strong “influencer” in our family. She had a very dynamic personality, and was full of surprises. Born in 1929, she was seven years younger than my dad and they loved each other dearly. Though she accomplished many things, her family was the most important—the dearest thing—in her life.


This is her recollection of the yearly ritual of hog-killing. She remembers this particular time when she was nine years old. When she wrote this essay, she was in her late seventies or early eighties, and she passed away 2 years ago at the age of 88.Here she is below, writing a letter to her husband, my Uncle Earl, during the Korean War when he was overseas.


This is a treasure to me because it lets me have a glimpse of her as a child, of my grandparents as younger people, and of other family members like my Aunt Grace, who was my grandmother’s sister. Remembering Aunt JoAnne and the wonderful stories she told about our family (she knew and remembered so many things—I tried to write some of them down!) as I read this essay makes me wish she had written more things like this.


My dad, Fred, with little sis, JoAnne in front. Behind them are two of their first cousins. This was taken around 1933-1934 or so. Dad would have been about 11 or 12, and JoAnne would have been 4 or 5.


I hope you enjoy this glimpse back in time.

REMEMBRANCE
By: JoAnne Jackson
This was, for sure, hog killing weather—the deep, frigid
cold of late November, 1941. The blue "norther" had
subsided to a deep and bitter cold. Yes, fine weather for the
yearly ritual at our small row-crop farm.

Everything was ready. Only yesterday, Dad filled the
old black wash pot with well-bucket after well-bucket of
water and then staked wood from the ample woodpile to
surround what would become a scalding cauldron. My
mother had stitched long, white tubing that would encase the
pork sausage. Every crock, dish pan, and kettle was
thoroughly scrubbed.

By lamplight, Dad had carefully sharpened every utility
knife, giving close attention to the butcher knives. I watched
closely the rhythm-like back and forth motion of metal on
whet stone.



Aunt JoAnne (RIGHT) and a cousin–both were 5 years old in this picture, and a few days after this was taken, her little cousin died of a ruptured appendix.

One of the largest shoats had been penned and fed rich
rations of grain and ‘shorts’, a thick, smelly mixture we
called slop. Discards from the kitchen were thrown in, also.

Next morning, Dad was up before sunrise, starting fires
in the wood heater and kitchen stove. He then went to coax
the kindling and larger sticks to a kind of red-hot furnace
around the wash pot.

At light of day, Aunt Grace and Uncle Bill drove up,
sitting high on the spring board seat of their farm wagon.
The horses were led into the barn lot, where they would
spend a day's rest with plenty of grain and hay spread on the
wagon bed. No occasion—certainly not hog killing—could be
undertaken without the counsel and experience of this wise
old couple. They had seen much of life's sweetness and
sadness.



My dad, Fred, and my Aunt JoAnne clowning around by “striking a pose” many years later.


Mom poured the last of the morning coffee; steaming
cups were held close, everyone appreciating the soothing
warmth—and I was not to be left out; my small cup was
filled with cream and milk, a teaspoon of sugar and 2 or 3
teaspoons full of the hot beverage. Oh, the rich goodness of
that caramel concoction!

Talk turned to news of weather, family and community.
I was puzzled when, briefly, there was mention of England,
Germany and France—I surely didn't comprehend the names
Hitler and Mussolini.

Then the long day's work began. When Dad reached
for the .22 rifle, I ran back to my bed, lying face down with
eyes squeezed tight, holding my hands over my ears. But
even so, the crack of the rifle and high shrill squeal of that
animal I can recall vividly these decades later.

I watched from the kitchen window as the work
progressed. Boiling water was poured into a metal barrel
and then tilted downward ever so slightly. This became a
seething cauldron; ugly, but necessary, I knew. A make-shift
pulley and hoist would lift the dead animal into that scalding
baptism.

Dad and my uncle worked in close harmony, scraping
clean the hot clinging bristles, exposing the pink-white
coloring of snout, belly and back. Then followed the more
tedious work of quartering, slicing and discarding.
All day they labored, and that labor would provide meat
for our table. Long winter months lay ahead, but our
provisions were more than ample: spare ribs, loin,
backbone, jowls, bacon, sausage, and ham. Come
Christmas, a ham would be served, for our house would
overflow with cousins, second cousins, uncles and aunts,
toddlers and babes in arms (sweet, sweet fellowship, hours
of play and whispered secrets).

The sun was low when my mother called supper. The
coal-oil lamp in the center of the kitchen table provided a
mellow light.



Both men washed up, using wet hands to pat down
their hair, rumpled and tangled from a day that allowed no
time for combing.

Our places were set, four high backed chairs and the
kitchen stool for me, a child of nine years… Oh, that feast:
fried tenderloin, red eye gravy, small red potatoes boiled
with the jackets on… Everyone became seated and quiet as
our heads bowed to repeat The Lord's Prayer.
Mom then brought the first pan of her wonderful buttermilk biscuits to
the table, hot from the oven, Everyone ate heartily, the men
enjoying a "roll your own" cigarette of Prince Albert tobacco
as they relaxed in the warmth of that small, cramped kitchen.
But hog killing was not over just because the hog was
killed. Much remained to be done.




Meat for sausage was ground, seasoned with just the
right amount of salt, pepper, and sage. One must be extra
careful with the sage, for even a little too much would ruin the
whole crock. (Words spoken by that lovable Aunt Grace, an
authority on sausage making. And indeed, she was.) The
white tubing was packed tightly with the sausage, then hung
by long baling wire from rafters in the smokehouse.
Then came the day for rendering fat to make our lard;
and the delicious crunch of the "cracklings" was the by-product.
A cup of crushed cracklings made a skillet of hot
cornbread really, really good.

Pork cracklings–a favorite dish “then and now”–you can buy them in bags to snack on these days!

The old black wash pot was put into service that one
last time for soap making. Mother's lye soap was a product
she was most proud of. She knew by memory the exact
amount of grease, lye, and whatever else went into this
product. She wielded a long-handled wooden paddle to stir,
being careful to stay clear of the hot coals. When this
mixture reached a consistency that was absolutely, 100
percent right, and ashes covered the coals, she kept stirring,
only more slowly. lt took two or three days for the soap to
set up. LYE SOAP! In those long-ago years it was used to
wash dishes, to scrub our bare wood floors, and to bathe our
bodies when times were especially lean. When our city kin
visited in the summer, my aunt always asked, "Mary, do you
have an extra bar of your soap? The girls so love it for
shampoo."

The week's hum of activity gradually wound down.
Uncle Bill added a bit more preservative to the hams, sides
of bacon were wrapped and hung, buckets of pure white lard
were put in the storm cellar—placed on shelves next to
Mom's prized lye soap.

These were my people: resourceful, honest,
hardworking, humble, and always true to their convictions of
right and wrong.

Only days later, December 7, 1941, our close-knit,
secure world was rocked asunder. WWII was upon us and
our way of life forever changed.

Now, in quiet times, I see them still, seated in lamp light
at our kitchen table, heads bowed in prayers of praise and
thanksgiving. The Lord had provided for another year.

Do you have a memory like this of your childhood that stands out in your mind? Please share!