Johnston Murray

 

                                                        Johnston Murray

When I was 8 or 9, I went on a field trip with my class to the state capitol, in Oklahoma City. As we were walking down a hall – I believe it was outside the senate chambers – a man walked up to my mother and said, “Hi Jim, how have you been doing?”-  At that time everyone called her “Jim” instead of Wenonah. They talked for a while and then the man walked on.

I asked, “Who was that?”

She replied, “That was the governor, Johnston Murray.” While I stood there with my mouth open, she explained that her brother Homer “Snip” Paul had been a senator, and that she knew a lot of people at the state capitol. There were pictures on the walls of each of the state legislatures, and we found Snip in several of them.

 Snip decided to run for the state legislature in 1926 and he won, much to everyone’s surprise – he was only 20 years old at the time of the election - becoming the youngest person ever elected to the Oklahoma House of Representatives. He was reelected to the House twice after that, and in 1932, ran for the senate and won, becoming the youngest person at that time ever to be elected to the Oklahoma State Senate. 

“Alfalfa” Bill Murray was in his second year as governor in 1932, Snip's first term as a senator, and his son, Johnston, recently divorced from Marion, my violin teacher, was working as a service man for Consolidated Gas Utilities Company in Tonkawa, Oklahoma. By the end of his father’s term as governor he had worked his way up to plant manager.[i]

Wenonah was in school at OU at the time, living with her other brother Haskell, who had a job at the state capitol as head attorney for the School Land Department, a job that Snip got him. Patronage was frowned upon, even then when there were no laws against it, but in the middle of the Depression, politicians practiced it openly. My mother said it was the only way her family survived. 

She didn’t have a very high opinion of “Alfalfa” Bill. She said he was an “uncouth old reprobate.” One day, as she was walking down a street she saw him sitting on the curb, chewing tobacco and spitting into the street. My mother had no patience for people who were slovenly or uncouth. I asked her why Johnston was so different from his father, and she said, “because his mother raised him. Bill had nothing to do with it.” 

Wenonah's brothers, Snip and Haskell, had a different opinion of Bill Murray. Snip had supported his candidacy for governor and later, some of his proposals in the legislature. Haskell told me that one day Murray had called him into his office and asked him to be lenient with the farmers who were delinquent on their loans from the School Land Department. 

I don’t know when Wenonah would have met Johnston Murray, but it was probably around the time his father was governor. She was in school at OU during that time, often at the state capital visiting her brothers. She even dated one of the senators. 

In 1942, the year I was born, Johnston Murray, decided to go to law school, and in 1946 he got his degree and passed the bar. He rose quickly in the party ranks, and in 1950 ran for governor. He didn’t always agree with his eccentric father on issues, but “Alfalfa” Bill supported him anyway. He said that he’d vote for his son “even if he were not related to me,” and that he, “if elected … will be as diplomatic and careful as his mother’s uncle …Otherwise, he is a Murray. ‘A chip off the same block.’” [ii] Johnston’s mother’s uncle was, of course, the dignified Chickasaw Governor, Douglas H. Johnston.  

Murray’s campaign was almost cut short by some dirty politics by his opponent, Bill Coe, who claimed that he had deserted his first wife, Marion, and left her and his son, Johnston Jr. without any support, but she put an end to his claim with this letter, printed in the Daily Oklahoman newspaper, just before the election. 

Dear Son:

            You and I have too long been in the news as a result of half-truths and outright falsehoods for me to remain silent any longer.

            It is absurd for anyone at any time to say that your father, my former husband, Johnston Murray, ever deserted or failed to provide for you. He just doesn’t do that sort of thing. Particularly, it is absolutely false for anyone in public or private life to say that he ever deserted his family.

            I am so sorry that you and I have been so wrongfully brought into the news by Mr. Coe. We both can stand it, and certainly Johnston Murray can stand it too.

                                                                                   Affectionately,

                                                                                  Your mother, Marion[iii] 

Johnston Murray won the election and became the first Oklahoma governor of Native American descent. Murray’s plans to cut government spending were thwarted by the state legislature, and then his second wife, Willie, decided to run for governor, since Oklahoma law prohibits governors from succeeding themselves. 

Willie was kind of interesting in her own right. She had been a concert pianist- Johnston seemed to have a thing for musicians – and while living at the governor’s mansion, hosted weekly open houses, often providing the entertainment. Johnston supported her candidacy, but their relationship went down hill after she was defeated. After a bitter divorce, Johnston was ruined financially - he should have stayed with Marion. But she was probably better off without him. She married again, this time to a violinist named Thede, and they played together in the Oklahoma City Symphony. 

Johnston married again too, to Helen Shutt – I don’t think she was a musician, and they moved to Ft. Worth. He was driving a limousine there when he ran into an old friend from the Oklahoma State legislature, Gene Stipe, who convinced him to return to Oklahoma and practice law, which he did.[iv]

---

[i] “Johnston Murray,” Oklahoma City (Oklahoma) Daily Oklahoman, 8 October 1950. 

[ii] James R Scales, Danney Goble, Oklahoma Politics: a History,(Norman, Oklahoma: University of Oklahoma Press, 1982) 268.

[iii] “Resenting the Distorted Statements Made by Bill Coe, Mrs. Unger Recently Wired Her Son…,” Oklahoma City (Oklahoma) Daily Oklahoman, 23 July 1950.

[iv] Erin Dowell, “Johnston Murray,” Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History Culture,      https://www.okhistory.org.

  

 

Walter M. Smith and The Optometry Practice Act of 1937

 

                                                                    Walter M Smith

A couple of years ago I got reacquainted with a childhood friend from Pauls Valley, Mel Smith. As I mentioned in my book, Wenonah’s Story, all during my childhood, my parents and I went to Pauls Valley every other weekend to visit my grandmother, Victoria Paul. We ran errands for her, and took her driving – she usually wanted to go out to the cemetery to take flowers and clean up around the grave sites of our family members, and in the spring we always drove around town to see the iris in bloom.  

While my mother and father were doing what they could for Grandmother, I was left to entertain myself, and that usually included going down the street – nothing in Pauls Valley is very far from anything else – to visit my cousin, Phillip, My uncle Haskell’s son. That’s how I got to know Mel. He was Phillip’s best friend. 

Anyway, I Mel and I hadn’t seen each other since childhood when he showed up at a little talk I gave in Pauls Valley about my book. As it turns out he’s also a history buff, and knows a lot about the history of the region. He actually worked with Mike Tower, who wrote the book, Outlaw Statesman, that I used a lot in researching my family’s history. Mel was good enough to send me pictures of several areas where my family used to live. 

Since then, Mel and I have been exchanging e-mails. Here is one that particularly interested me about a connection between Mel’s father and my uncle, Homer Paul, who was in the Oklahoma state legislature for 22 years. 

Dr. Walter M. Smith & Oklahoma Senator Homer "Snip" Paul 

My father, Walter Melvin Smith, Sr., graduated from the Northern Illinois College of Optometry in Chicago, Illinois in 1933. He returned to Pauls Valley, Oklahoma, where his father Melvin Brice (M.B.) Smith was in the jewelry business.  They came to PV from Cordell in 1924 when my grandfather bought a jewelry store in Pauls Valley. 

After my dad established himself in his Optometric practice he was approached by members of a group of optometrists who solicited his help in establishing a legal basis for the practice of Optometry in Oklahoma.  Apparently their motive for soliciting father's help was the fact he was from Pauls Valley and Homer Paul was as well. As my dad often said (when mentioning Snip as he was termed by family and those who knew him)   "he was the wheel horse" of the Oklahoma legislature.

[21st President Pro Tempore Homer Paul -  Democrat  from Pauls Valley - 20th Legislature from 1945 to 1947.] 

Actually Homer was first elected to the House of Representatives in 1926, serving until 1932, when he ran for the Senate, and won, serving until 1948, when he was finally defeated. He was the youngest person ever elected to the House at the time, and also the senate. When he campaigned for a seat in the House, he hadn’t yet turned 21.   

They asked my father's help in that they wanted him to talk with Snip to see if he would support the passage of new laws governing the practice of Optometry in Oklahoma.  My father said he would if after reviewing their proposals that he believed the legislation would be fair, honest and protective of the public.  After checking things out he agreed to go to Snip's office and approach him about his support of same.  After Snip's personal review of the proposed legislation and finding my father's assurances were true that the legislation would benefit Oklahomans Snip was receptive and agreed to support it. 

He asked my dad to come to the legislative session during which he planned to introduce the matter to the Senate.  He asked my father to sit in the gallery above the floor of the Senate and introduced my dad to the assembly. Following the introduction of the proposed legislation and its subsequent approval, the measure was passed into law. 

My father was appointed by the Governor to be the Secretary of the five member Optometry Board of Examiners that was established by the new law and was reappointed under four subsequent  Governors. My youngest brother Mike has an Optometric practice in Oklahoma  City and told me that the Oklahoma Optometric law has been used as model legislation in several other states. 

There are or have been six optometrists or ophthalmologists in my family.  (Oklahoma (1-OKC, 1-PV, 1-Alva) Texas (Dallas), Colorado (Canon City), and California (Palm Springs)

That's the story.   Mel

 

Since Mel sent me this e-mail I’ve been looking for more information about what the issues were at the time, and what changes were made to the law. All his father told him was that there was an issue with optometrists or people claiming to be optometrists working out of jewelry stores and department stores.  I called Dr. Russell Laverty, Secretary of the Oklahoma State Optometry Board, who referred me to Dr. George Foster, former dean of the Northeastern State College of Optometry, who was kind enough to give me a useful outline and some colorful stories about the history of Optometry in Oklahoma. 

1911: First Optometry Practice Act passed. Licensing standards were established. The law prohibited price advertising of eye exams. This restriction was supported by the  medical association, possibly to prevent competition. This led to the issuing of a warrant for the arrest of two optometrists in Duncan, Oklahoma, for advertising. They escaped into Texas on horseback. 

1923: Price advertising restriction repealed. 

1931: Optometry Practice Act amended. 

1933: Governor (Alfalfa) Bill Murray proposed repeal of Optometry Practice Act but was blocked in the legislature. 

I can’t resist saying a little something about Governor Bill Murray, easily the most colorful governor in Oklahoma history.  He was called “Alfalfa” Bill because he claimed to be the first farmer to grow alfalfa in Oklahoma, but Bill Murray wasn’t really a farmer. He was a lawyer, and a politician. 

Murray moved to Indian Territory in 1898, where he became a prominent attorney, dealing with Indian land claims. After chairing the state constitutional convention in 1906, Murray represented Oklahoma in Congress for two terms. After a failed run for governor, he disappeared into Bolivia where he spent the next 12 years, and $84,000 on a scheme to set up an agricultural colony. In 1930 he  returned to Oklahoma penniless, just in time to run for governor. He borrowed $42 from the Bank of Tishomingo, bought a newspaper, and announced his candidacy, traveling the state, proclaiming his plan to tax the rich and provide jobs for the poor. Murray’s ideas resonated with the struggling farmers and many others hit by the Depression, and he was elected by a landslide.  

Living up to his eccentric image, Murray turned his inauguration into a square dance, with himself as caller. He plowed up the front lawn of the governor’s mansion to grow potatoes for the poor, and he released over 2000 prisoners from state prisons as a cost cutting measure.

In spite of his outlandish behavior, Murray was a shrewd politician. He filled key government positions with loyal allies to protect himself from impeachment, the fate of Oklahoma’s two previous governors. Then he proposed a complete overhaul of the state’s tax system, eliminating property taxes which were drowning the farmers, increasing corporate taxes and taxes on the rich, and creating a tax commission, to improve collections.

Used to dealing with rebellious governors, the state legislature ignored Murray’s proposals, all except for the tax commission, and increased appropriations by $9 million. Murray countered by submitting his plan to the people, but was defeated, probably because it rained the day of the election, and the rural vote turnout was light. As a result, the state sank further and further into debt.  

Defeated by the powers that be, Murray continued to do what he could by executive order. He halted tax sales of farms, nullified Oklahoma City Health Department’s order to stop distribution of food to the poor, and trimmed expenses in the government departments he controlled. His attempt to repeal the Optometry Practice Act in 1933 was probably part of this austerity program, although he had originally signed the bill in 1931.  

1937: Comprehensive Optometry law passed. Included eye exam requirement to drive car. Used as model for other states. 

This 1937 act initiated by Dr. Walter Melvin Smith, my friend Mel’s father, and supported by Homer Paul, my uncle, was a revision of the Optometry Practice laws passed in 1911 and 1931. I couldn’t find any newspaper articles about the act, and there is no record of the senate debates at the time, but I was able to get copies of the legislation. The part about requiring an eye exam to drive a car was probably part of another bill.

The 1937 law made several important changes:

It raised the standards for granting a license, requiring that the candidate be a graduate of a school of optometry, whereas the prior law had recognized apprenticeships. Also it required that the candidate pass a much more comprehensive exam, including basic sciences, physics, chemistry, bacteriology, pathology, general anatomy, psychology, physiology, neurology, as well as optics and skills used in the eye exam, whereas the 1931 law only required knowledge of anatomy of the eyes, laws of optics and refraction, and use of the ophthalmoscope and retinoscope. 

Another change in the 1937 act was to list offences for which a license could be revoked. Whereas the 1931 law only listed fraud, conviction of a crime, unprofessional and unethical conduct, drunkenness, excessive charges, false representation of goods and contagious disease, the amended version prohibited house to house sale of glasses or exams, the employment of an optometrist by a store or company, or practicing under an assumed name, and it gave the optometry board the power to expand these rules at its discretion. 

The 1937 act also repealed a 1931 clause that allowed licensing of someone who had practiced optometry for five years in another state. 

1939: Gov. Phillips introduced legislation to eliminate bd of examiners, but was blocked by the legislature. 

The 1937 Optometry Practice Act was only challenged once in the next 18 years, by another eccentric governor, Leon Phillips. I won’t bore you with another biography, but Governor Phillips was a demagogue. He silenced opponents by hiring investigators to dig up dirt on them.  Like Bill Murray he tried to cut spending, but without Murray’s concern with the poor. He claimed communists were behind FDR’s New Deal, and discontinued programs as soon as their terms expired. He attacked patronage and bureaucracy and tried to eliminate departments that he considered superfluous. His attempt to eliminate the Optometry Board was probably part of this effort.   

The Optometry Practice Act of 1937 stood until 1955, and was a model for other states. By helping get the legislation passed, and by serving on the Board of Examiners for many years, Dr. Walter M Smith was a true pioneer in his field. He deserves recognition by his profession and the pride of his family.

                                                                    

                                                                        Homer Paul

Hello Again

Hello, again.

I’ve only posted one blog in the last two years, so no one may notice me starting up again, but I'm going to try anyway.

I’ve finished the book, Wenonah’s Story, that I co-authored with my mother, J. Wenonah Paul Gunning, and it will be released by the Chickasaw Press the first week in October. I hope you will all read it. It’s a lot more polished than my blog, so hopefully it will be worth your while.

My mother was a remarkable woman, born in 1913 into the prominent Paul family just as it was falling on hard times. A sensitive child, Wenonah faced hardship, tragedy, conflict between her parents, and prejudice because of her Indian blood, with determination and humor. The book describes her childhood as an adventurous tomboy, her experiences at Bloomfield, a Chickasaw school for girls, getting a college degree during a time when women were expected to get married out of high school, and creating an exciting life for herself as a working woman, while giving support and encouragement to her mother and to her brothers and sisters.  

Wenonah’s Story is not just the story of my mother’s life, but also a history of the Paul family, from Wenonah’s great grandfather, Smith Paul, who ran away from his home in North Carolina to join the Chickasaw Indians, to her grandfather, Sam Paul, a Chickasaw policeman and senator, to her father William, a delegate to the Sequoya Convention, a successful rancher, and real estate broker, to her brother Homer, who served in the Oklahoma state legislature for 17 years. The book describes the stormy transition of the Indian and Oklahoma Territories into the State of Oklahoma; the prosperity of the 1920’s, and the hardships of living through the Great Depression. It also gives a pretty good picture of what it was like to grow up in a small rural Oklahoma town during the 1920’s.

I haven’t quite decided how to continue this blog, but I guess I’ll just keep telling stories about our family, putting them into the context of the times. If you read the book, the blog will give you more details about the background of the story, and the lives of the characters, and I’ll continue telling more about my dad, who’s just entering the story as the book ends. 

Thanks for reading. It's nice to be back. 

Bloomfield Academy, 1926 - 1927

Introduction: This post is an excerpt from the book I'm writng about my mother, Wenonah. I'm writing it in her voice, and although I'm not nearly as good with words as she was, the stories are as close as I can get to the way she told them. She told me about her experiences at Bloomfield over and over again. She was proud of having been a student there. The excerpt is a little long for a blog, but I couldn't figure a way to split it into smaller bites. I've put in a few explanatory comments in parentheses.

For anyone interested in a more comprehensive history of Bloomfield, I highly recommend Amanda Cobb Greetham's book, Listening to Our Grandmothers' Stories.

                           Bloomfield

During the summer of 1926, while Snip was campaigning to be elected to the state legislature, a lady from the Indian Field Service came to visit Mamma and Pappa. Her name was Mrs. Reeder. She had come to talk to them about sending one of us to the Bloomfield Academy, a Chickasaw boarding school for girls in Ardmore, Oklahoma.

(Snip was the family's nickname for one of my mother's older brothers, Homer Paul. He was elected to the Oklahoma State House of Representatives in 1926, and at the time was the youngest man ever elected to the House. He was 21.) 

Mrs. Reeder made a good impression on Mamma and Pappa. She told them that Bloomfield had high standards, and that in addition to academic subjects they taught manners, etiquette, and "industrial arts," which including laundering , sewing, gardening, dairying, and housekeeping. Mrs. Reeder also emphasized that the school gave young Indian girls an opportunity to be with others who shared a common heritage. She and her husband were both Chickasaw, and their two daughters, Julia and Sophia, attended the school.  

After Mamma and Pappa had talked with Mrs. Reeder for a while, they asked me to come in and meet her. She asked me if I would be interested in going to a school for Indian girls, and I was thrilled to death. I was tired of feeling different from the other girls in Pauls Valley, and the idea of going to a school for Indian girls sounded too good to be true. In fact I was so excited that Mamma had to calm me down. I remember her telling me, "Jim, Indians are just like anybody else. They're just people." Pappa was tickled at the way I reacted, but he didn't seem as impressed with the idea of my going to an Indian boarding school as Mamma was. I guess he was remembering his own boarding school days. Mamma and Pappa didn't push me either way though. They let me decide, and I told them I wanted to go.  

Of course the other thing I was thinking about was Grandpa. He was living in the old soldiers' home in Ardmore, and I imagined that I could visit him whenever I wanted.

(My mother's grandfather was a veteran of the Confederacy and in 1926 he lived at a Confederate veterans' home in Ardmore. My mother was his namesake - her first name was James, and she was his favorite among the grandchildren. She adored him.) 

When Kaliteyo found out about the plan, she begged Mamma to let her go to St. Elizabeth's, another Chickasaw girl's school located in Purcell. Bloomfield only went to the eighth grade, but St Elizabeth's went all the way through high school. Our cousin Mildred McClure, Iman's daughter, attended St. Elizabeth's, and she had told Kaliteyo all about it. Kalteyo told Mamma that if I got to go away to school she should be able to go too, so it was settled. We both went to boarding schools that year.

(Kaliteyo was my mother's older sister. Iman McClure was Pappa's first cousin, and they were very close. His father was Tecumseh McClure - see other blogs which mention Tecumsey McClure.) 

While Kaliteyo and I were waiting for school to start, we tried to get Pappa to teach us some Chickasaw words. He spoke the language fluently - he used to speak it with Iman and Uncle Buck - but he refused. He just laughed and told us it wasn't important. Finally we got him to teach us to count to ten: chufa, tuklo, tuchina, oshta, tulhapi, hunali, ontuklo, ontukchina, chukali, pokoli.   

When the time came to leave home, Mamma packed my trunk. I got to take my roller skates and my ukulele, and Mamma made me two new dresses. One was a nice dress for special occasions. Mamma had embroidered flowers on the front of it, and there was a sash that hung down the back. The other dress had a checkered pattern and was nice, but was more of an every day dress. The only problem was that Mamma gave me orders to wear union suits under my pretty dresses. I liked to never got out of those union suits.

("Union Suits" were long handled underwear.) 

On the day we left for school, I hugged and kissed everybody goodbye, and Willie drove me down to Bloomfield. After the matron signed me in, Willie left, and I started to feel alone. I was still excited about getting to visit Grandpa though, and that kept my spirits up.

(Willie was my mother's oldest brother. He stayed at home and helped support the family instead of getting married or going to college.) 

That evening after supper Mrs. Hill, the matron, took me back to the main residential building where I would be living, and started telling me the school rules. One of them was that I wouldn't be allowed off campus, except for an official school activity.  

I asked her if that meant I couldn't go visit Grandpa, and she said that it did. Well that did it for me. I told Mrs. Hill that if I couldn't go to see Grandpa I wanted to go home. I cried and demanded that she call my mother. When she refused, I cried all the harder. She tried to get me to go upstairs to bed, but I wouldn't budge. I demanded that she call Mamma. After much pleading on Mrs. Hill's part and crying on mine, I finally agreed to go upstairs, but only if I could talk to the school superintendant the next morning.  

Even after agreeing to stay, I still didn't want to go upstairs. At that point Mrs. Hill began to insist. I still remember my trip up the stairs. I would take a step up and then turn around to go back, and Mrs. Hill would slap my bottom. Then another step and another slap, all the way up the stairs.  

In the morning Mrs. Hill was true to her word, and she took me in to see the superintendant, Miss Allen. I remember that meeting like it was yesterday. Miss Allen seemed to tower over me. I met her years later and she was actually a small woman, but at the time she seemed like a giant. Miss Allen listened patiently as I explained to her that the only reason I had agreed to come to Bloomfield was so I could visit my Grandpa, and since I couldn't, I wanted to go home. Miss Allen was very kind. She told me that my mother had sent me there to go to school, and that she would want me to stay. She asked me to just try it out for a month, and then if I still wanted to go home she would call my mother.    

(Eleanor Allen was superintendent of Bloomfield for 15 years. She maintained high standards for the school, and seemed to my mother at least to be wise and compassionate.) 

Miss Allen's strategy worked. I had settled down a little anyway since the night before, and although I was still upset, what she said made sense to me, so I agreed to stay for a month. I was home sick, but I also enjoyed going to school and being with the other girls. Mamma wrote me letters, and Willie sent me a little sewing basket filled with candy.

                                      Sewing basket, 1926

Every Friday was letter day, and we were all required to write a letter home. Some of the girls complained about writing letters and said that the teachers told them what to write, but I looked forward to letter day. Here's a letter I wrote to Mamma on Valentine's Day, 1927. It was sent to her along with my grades:  

Mother this the report for January. I am getting along just fine. I couldn't write you last Sunday because I couldn't get a stamp. But I will write next Sunday if I can get a stamp. Your Loving Daughter, Wenonah Paul.

Bloomfield was a beautiful school. Everything was neat and clean, and the buildings were well maintained. There was a lake out in front of the main building with an island in the center of it. There was a stage on the Island, and we put on plays and musical performances there.

Cement walkways connected the buildings on the Bloomfield campus, and there were pergolas over the walks covered by pretty flowering vines. Sometimes we were allowed to rollerskate on the walks, so I got to use my roller skates. Ardmore seemed to have a milder climate than Pauls Valley. It never got very cold or very hot there, and it didn't snow all winter.   

My room was in the main building. The little girls stayed there, and also the girls who only spoke Chickasaw or Choctaw. The hospital was also in the main building so the school nurse, Mrs. Wright, worked there. She was Choctaw and since the Chickasaw and Choctaw languages are almost the same, she could talk to all the girls who didn't speak English. 

I really wanted to learn to speak Chickasaw, but the school was trying to force the girls to use English, so they had a rule against speaking an Indian language. There was an old Chickasaw man who did maintenance work around the school who taught me a few words though, and I learned more from the other girls on laundry day. The mangle in the laundry room made a lot of noise, and we would hide behind it and speak Chickasaw. I still remember a few words they taught me, like chukma - hello, and minti - come here.  

That was one of my jobs, to work in the laundry room. The girls did most of the maintenance work at Bloomfield, and we were each assigned to work details. In addition to the laundry, there was clean up, kitchen duty, gardening, gathering eggs, and milking. Only the older girls got to milk the cows. They were called "milk maids," and they got to wear white smocks. I wanted so much to be a milk maid. Later I got the job of milking our cow at home. I should have been careful what I wished for. 

Every month the school published a newsletter, and I still have one of them. It is dated March 27, 1927:  

It begins with an editorial by one of our teachers:  

We are glad to welcome springtime again for with it comes the sweet perfumed flowers and the happy birds. Everywhere life bursts forth in all its beauty. Joy and happiness are everywhere. Yet it is not only earth's springtime but it is the springtime of life for our Bloomfield girls. It is the best and happiest time of their lives. They should try and realize this fact and cultivate in this springtime of youth those things which will enable them to grow into beautiful and useful women. 

Jewell Crummey 

There's an article in the newsletter about US marines being sent to China to protect American citizens from rioting there. Other articles announce plans to enlarge the classrooms and to expand the junior high to include the ninth grade the coming year. Events mentioned include a guest speaker who spoke about Japan and its people, a school dance, and an inspirational talk by a representative from the YWCA. 

Here's an article about Bird Day: 

On March 19th, we had a splendid Bird Day Program given under the direction of Miss Roberts and Mrs. Risser. The entire program was about birds and their help to man. The girls who took part in the play wore bird masks and costumes which made them look very real. There were robins, bluebirds, crows, and owls. Two toads in costume proclaimed themselves as great helpers of man also.   

a report about the school garden:

Gardening has been progressing very well this month. Each eighth grade girl made a garden of her own in which she has planted twenty five different kinds of vegetables. These plants are nearly all well above the ground. The other classes have also worked at planting so that Bloomfield has a garden it can be proud of.  

and a project by the eighth grade girls to redecorate their rooms: 

The eighth grade girls under the direction of Miss Owens, our Home Training Teacher, have completed redecorating their bedrooms. Their first step was to select the color scheme to be used in each room. The varnish was removed from the furniture and it was sandpapered before painting. They have given the walls and woodwork two coats. The floors have been covered with linoleum. The girls have made all the room furnishings including window curtain draperies, bedspreads, dresser scarfs and floor pillows. We expect an invitation to a "house warming" before long.

Ernestine Trout 

There were also articles about visitors, religious activities, illness - some of the girls had measles, news about the girls' families and news from other Chickasaw - Choctaw schools.  

Finally there was the list of girls on the honor rolls for academic and industrial classes. I was on both. I even made a good grade in arithmetic.  

One girl from each dormitory was chosen as nurse to report any girls who were sick, and to help out the school nurse, Mrs. Wright. I was the nurse for my dormitory, and I was very proud of my position. Since the school nurse's office was in my building, I got to help her more than the others did. One of my jobs was to help in processing new students when they first came to school.

After each new girl enrolled, they were required to take a shower and to put on clean, freshly laundered clothes. I was supposed to take each girl to the shower room for her shower, and to check her hair for lice. I felt very important performing this duty, especially since some of the new girls were older and bigger than me. Mrs. Wright gave me a fine toothed comb and a clean white towel. I was to run the comb through the girls' hair, put it on the towel, and then take it straight to Mrs. Wright. I remember how anxious I was to get rid of that towel. 

Since I lived in the main building where the hospital was located, I saw all the girls who were sick. There was one girl I remember who was weak and emaciated when she first came to the school. Mrs. Wright tried to make sure she ate good food, but she continued to get weaker. Finally a doctor from Ardmore was called in to see her.  

The little girl still didn't improve. Then one day an old man came walking up the road. He was the little girl's grandfather, and he was also a tribal healer. The old man had walked all the way from his home. He spoke with Mrs. Wright and then he went in to see his grand daughter. He stayed a long time. When he left I watched him walk back up the road until he was out of sight. The little girl started improving after that, and she finally recovered.  

Health was an important part of Bloomfield's curriculum, and the state of our health was reported monthly to our parents along with our performance in class. The health report included our weight at the beginning and the end of each month, hours of sleep, hygiene, exercise, diet - we were supposed to drink one pint of milk each day along with a helping of fruit, a green leafy vegetable, and six glasses of water.

                                 Bloomfield Health Report, 1927

It was at Bloomfield that I got interested in singing. We had a glee club there and everyone participated. It was one of my favorite classes.   

The cooking and sewing classes at Bloomfield were a challenge for me. I hadn't learned much from Mamma about either except for the little bit of crocheting she taught me when I was sick. My worst grade was in sewing. Our project in sewing class was to make a dress, and the teacher ended up doing most of the work for me. Then there was cooking class. I remember our class on baking a cake. We were supposed to whip the egg whites and then >fold= them into the batter. The other girls all knew what to do, and I remember how horrified they were when I just dumped the egg whites in and started stirring. I did finally learn to fold in egg whites though, and when I came home in the spring Mamma let me bake a cake for the family. I still have the little cook book I made at Bloomfield, and in it is the recipe for that "Standard Cake."

                            Bloomfield Cook Book, 1927

We had a class in basket weaving too. We learned to soak reeds in water to make them pliable and then weave them into baskets. At the end of the year we planted flowers in our baskets and took them home. My flower was a narcissus.  

On May Day we got to go to a park in Ardmore on an outing.  The highlight of the trip was the slide. It was huge, and instead of going straight down, it had a ripple on it. Some of the older girls came prepared with bread wrappers from the bakery for us to sit on to make us go down faster, and they really worked. We got to going so fast that we actually flew up into the air when we went over the ripple.

It wasn't long after that last outing in the park that the school year was over. Snip came to get me, driving his big brown Packard, and I was so glad to see him. I never thought I'd be glad to see Snip. He sat with the parents and watched the school's final presentation for the year, a May Day Festival. I was especially excited because I had been chosen to play the role of Queen of the May.  

The play was performed on the island in front of the main building with the parents sitting around the edge of the lake. The girls were dressed in costumes representing the animals of the forest. They danced around the May Pole holding colorful streamers, and then I was crowned. I wore the pretty dress Mamma had made for me, and a crown of flowers. After the play, we gathered up my stuff: my roller skates, my ukelele, the sewing basket Willy had sent me, my basket with the narcissus planted inside, and my cookbook, and Snip took me home. On the way home he told me that I had done a good job, and that he was proud of me.   

It was so good to be home! Mamma said she was proud of me too. She was especially pleased with my manners, how I said yes ma'am and no ma'am. She even let me help her out with the cooking. Bob and Kaliteyo teased me and started calling me the 'Queen of the May,' but I was glad to see them anyway.  

I didn't go back to Bloomfield the next year. I could have gone there for another two years, and then on to Chilocco for high school. Mamma would probably have let me, but I had just been too homesick. I'm sorry now that I didn't go back. I really felt like I belonged there.

As it was, I came back from Bloomfield a different girl. I was even more proud of my Indian heritage than before; I had developed some manners and domestic skills, and I was ahead of my Pauls Valley classmates academically. That year at Bloomfield was probably what enabled me to graduate from high school a year early.

                                           Bloomfield Academy, 1940