Pauls Valley Beginnings

Pauls Valley is a little town in south central Oklahoma. It was born as a farming community, and later there was a little oil boom there, but for the last 30 or 40 years it's been getting smaller instead of larger. When you drive down Paul Avenue, the main drag, you don't see any new buildings. If people stop there, it's usually just to get gas or a snack on their way to Dallas.

 

Pauls Valley is still a pretty little town though. It's one of those towns where the tree branches form an arch over the streets which are still paved with bricks in some areas. I never lived in Pauls Valley, but I visited my grandmother there every other weekend for most of my childhood, so I feel at home there. The other reason it's special to me is because it was named after my great great grandfather, Smith Paul.

 

I think I've told the story of Smith Paul before, how he ran away from home and joined the Chickasaws, and then came with them from their homeland in what is now Mississippi on their "Trail of Tears" in 1837. In about 1844 he married my great great grandmother, a full blood Indian woman named Ela-teecha.

 

The Chickasaw settlers were threatened by the "wild" Plains Indian tribes who thought of them as invaders, so they lived close to forts for protection. In 1845 they moved next to Fort Washita, and when Fort Arbuckle was built in 1851 they moved close to it. It was in about 1858 or 9 when Smith and Ellen - that's how Ela-teecha was known in the family - moved to the present location of Pauls Valley.

 

Pauls Valley is located where Rush Creek flows into the Washita River, which was large enough in Smith Paul's day to float a pretty large boat. Smith Paul had always wanted to farm on a large scale, and the land in the Valley was the best he had ever seen. The grass on the prairie was so tall it could hide a man on horseback, and Smith's farm yielded 30 to 40 bushels of corn per acre without cultivation. More recent studies have shown that the topsoil there is 17 to 20 feet thick.

 

Smith and Ellen spent the Civil War years in the valley, without much company other than the friendly Indian tribes who would supply them with meat in exchange for corn. After the War others came to the valley and formed a settlement there which became known as Smith Paul's Valley. The main road west went through the town and carried supplies to Fort Cobb and Fort Sill.

 

Ellen Paul had been married before, to a man named Jason McClure who had died in 1843 of hydrophobia, or rabies, and she had two children by McClure: a boy, Tecumseh, and a girl, Kathrine. She and Smith Paul had three children together: a boy Jesse, who died as a young man; a girl, Mississippia, and my great grandfather, Sam. They all remained in the valley after they married and raised their families there.

 

In the early days Smith Pauls Valley was part of the Chickasaw Nation, which had its own government and its own laws. The main issue of the time was over whether or not to allow intermarried white settlers the right to vote. Many of the Chickasaws were not happy with the changes that the whites had brought. They preferred to live as they had always lived, in small family groups, using only what they needed. They saw the desire of the white man for wealth and possessions as a threat to their way of life.

 

Smith and Ellen's children were split over the issue. Sam Paul was a Progressive, in favor of welcoming the white man, and working toward eventual statehood for the territory with a joint Indian - white government. His older half-brother Tecumseh, on the other hand, was a member of the "Pull-back" Party, and was dead set against allowing whites any more influence.

 

The issue came to a head with the coming of the railroad. Most Indians were against building a railroad across the Territory, because it represented more whites, more businesses, and more towns. They were already outnumbered seven to one by whites in their own country. After the Civil War, the U.S. Government used the fact that most of the Indians had supported the Confederacy as an excuse to demand reparations. It didn't make any difference that the Indians were more or less forced into the War by being occupied by Confederate Troops. One of the concessions demanded of the Chickasaws and Choctaws was that railroad lines be built across their Nations. One line would cross east to west and the other north to south.

 

Footnote: The Chickasaws, Arrell Gibson, P 276 describes the post Civil War treaty , and p 284 gives the dates, names, and locations of the railroads.  

 

The first line, the M.K. & T. was built in 1872. It crossed the southern part of the Nation, and although it brought with it more settlers, laborers, gamblers, prostitutes, and liquor, just as the Indians had feared, it was a long way from Smith Pauls Valley. The real problem came in 1887 when the north - south line was built by the Santa Fe Company. It was to come right through the Valley.

 

Naturally the railroad wanted to locate a depot in Smith Paul's Valley, now a major settlement, but Tecumseh McClure refused to release the land. According to Chickasaw law, a person could not own land, but he could use all the land that he needed, and the place selected for the depot was on land that Tecumseh controlled.

 

When Tecumseh's brother Sam found out about the dilemma, he contacted the railroad and offered to let them use his land for the depot, so the Santa Fe engineers took him up on his offer. Sam Paul's land was three miles south of the town so locating the depot there meant that the town had to be moved. Sam Paul, a true businessmen, immediately began selling town lots. By the time the depot was built, he owned the town. They say that it was the railroad that was responsible for shortening the town's name to Pauls Valley. The name Smith Pauls Valley was too long to go on the sign. 

 

Sam Paul's vision of the future eventually came to pass, even though the rift between him and his brother eventually led to Sam's death. Pauls Valley was a thriving and prosperous town for the next fifty years.  

 

Footnote: Uncle Haskell's notes tell about the conflict between Sam Paul and Tecumseh McClure.

 

 

 

                                      Santa Fe locomotive - Pauls Valley

 

Sam Paul and the Chickasaw Light Horse Police

Back in Indian Territory before 1898 when the Indian governments were abolished, the Chickasaws had their own police force, known as the "Light Horse Police." The Chickasaw Nation, reborn in 1983, now has a modern police force called by the same name, so the Chickasaw Light Horse Police still ride, though now in cars instead of horses.  

The Chickasaws' first police force was organized in 1829, in the Chickasaw homeland in what is now the state of Mississippi. The Chickasaw laws were few, but the punishments were swift. Theft was punished by 39 lashes and the offender had to restore the property. Whiskey was banned. There was no need for jails. An offender was honor bound to submit to his punishment. Murder was punished outside the law by revenge killing, and a member of the victim's family would mete out the punishment. If a killer fled, a member of his family would be executed in his stead, and afterward he would be shunned by the tribe, a fate considered worse than death.

The Chickasaws, by Arrell Gibson, P 153, describes the first laws of the Chickasaw 

After 1837, when the Chickasaw were forced to migrate to Indian Territory, they were for several years considered citizens of the Choctaw Nation.The two tribes shared a similar language, and they had many customs in common, but the Chickasaw were not happy living under Choctaw rule. In 1857, just before the Civil War, the Chickasaw broke away and formed their own nation under their own laws. It was around that time when the Light Horse Police Force was created.   

After the Civil War, there was a flood of settlers into Indian Territory, and because there were few federal marshals to police the vast area, many outlaws sought refuge there. The job of the Light Horse Policeman was difficult and dangerous. Their charge was to:  

…with or without warrant, arrest all outlaws, thieves, and murderers in your section, and if they resist, you will shoot them on the spot. And you will aide and assist all U.S. Marshals in the enforcement of the laws and make yourself a terror to evildoers. If afraid, turn in your resignation and I'll appoint better men in your place.  

The Outlaw Statesman, Mike Tower, P 82 

It was during this time that my great grandfather, Sam Paul, became a Light Horse Policeman. Sam Paul was perfectly suited for this job. According to all accounts, he was fearless and ruthless. My great grandmother estimated once that he had killed 15 men.  

The Chickasaw themselves were little threat to the community. Even during the late 1800's the Chickasaw Nation had no jails, and the guilty still reported to the appointed place of punishment, whether it be for lashes or for execution. It was the white men who posed a threat to law and order.  

The Light Horse Police were placed in a difficult situation. They had no jurisdiction over U.S. citizens, so they were expected to sit by passively and wait for a federal marshal to deal with white criminals. Also there was the practical problem of bringing a criminal to trial. The nearest federal court was in Fort Smith, Arkansas, which was 200 miles from the Chickasaw Nation. So if a Chickasaw policeman apprehended a criminal, he was expected to hold him in custody while a U.S. marshal was summoned. Then he had to convince witnesses to travel all the way to Fort Smith to testify.  

My great grandfather and other Chickasaw policemen decided that this was too much to ask, so they often dispensed justice to whites as they saw fit without bothering to contact a federal marshal.  

In 1882, my great grandfather was arrested and sent to Fort Smith to be tried for manslaughter. He had killed a white prisoner, well actually two, and the federal marshal James Mershon decided to make an example of him. Sam then faced an ordeal that would have broken a lesser man. First he was marched to Ft Smith with the other prisoners, who included Sam=s half brother Tecumseh, his nephew Fred Waite, and other members of the posse that had arrested Harkins, one of the men he was accused of killing. On the 200 mile trek, the prisoners were shackled to a log which they were compelled to carry between them as they walked. In Ft. Smith they were put in the filthy jail which housed as many as 6 men per cell. It was June so they also suffered from the sweltering heat.  

Within a couple of weeks the charges against Fred, Tecumseh, and most of the other members of the posse were dropped, and they were allowed to return home, but Sam wasn=t tried until December. Time passed slowly in these hideous conditions. Many men in the Ft Smith jail became ill or malnourished, and several died before they could be brought to trial. My great grandmother, Sarah, took my grandfather Billy and his brother Buck, 6 and 8 years old at the time, to visit their father in jail. She had to lift them up so that they could kiss their father through the bars.  

In January of 1883 Sam Paul was brought before the notorious Judge Isaac Parker, known as "the hanging judge" because he had sent 88 men to the gallows. Sam=s trial resulted in a hung jury, so he remained in jail. His second trial wasn't held until April of 1883, so he languished in the Fort Smith jail for a total of ten months! When his case came to trial, Sam was convicted of manslaughter, and sentenced to ten years at hard labor in the federal penitentiary at Detroit, Michigan

 

The story doesn't end there, however. After Sam Paul's conviction, the Chickasaw legislature sent a petition, signed by the legislators and other prominent citizens of the Chickasaw Nation, to the President of the United States, Chester Arthur, requesting a pardon, and in March, 1884, the pardon was granted. 

It read:  

Whereas the Chickasaw Council, and a large number of officers and citizens of Indian Territory have petitioned for the defendant's pardon, representing that he committed the offense while endeavoring, as an officer of the United States and of the Territory, to enforce the law, and was excusable. 

And whereas, the Secretary of the Interior, and the Commissioner of Indian Affairs are of the opinion that the conviction in this case tends to impair the efficiency of the Indian Police, and that a pardon would be in the interest of law and order, and earnestly recommend it; … 

Now, therefore, be it known, that I, Chester A. Arthur, President of the United States of America, in consideration of the premises, divers and other good and sufficient reasons me thereunto moving, do hereby grant to the said Sam Paul a full and unconditional pardon.  

National Archives 

Sam Paul's pardon set an historic precedent giving the Chickasaw Light Horse Police the authority to maintain law and order in their territory.  

As for Sam Paul, he went on to be elected senator representing Pickens County in the Chickasaw legislature; he practiced law in the Chickasaw courts, and he owned two newspapers, the Chickasaw Enterprise and the Chickasaw Chieftain. Sam testified in Washington, D.C. before the Joint Committee on Indian Affairs of the U.S. Congress, and he later ran for governor of the Chickasaw Nation. Sam Paul was one of the most progressive and farsighted men in the Chickasaw Nation.

 

The Furniture Catalogue, 4

I thought I'd share another one of the Uncle Wiggly stories my grandmother, Victoria Rosser Paul, clipped out of the newspaper to save to read to her children. Howard Garis, the author, together with his wife, Lillian Garis, wrote over 15000 Uncle Wiggly stories between 1910 and 1947. The stories were originally written as a daily column in the Newark Daily News and were later synicated and published nationally. Mr. Garis also wrote some of the Tom Swift stories, under the pseudonym of Victor appleton, Bobbsey Twin stories as Laura Lee Hope, Motor Boys stories as Clarence Young, and Basketball Joe stories as Lester Chadwick, and too many more to list. He might be the most prolific writer of children's fiction of all time. I would guess this story was from the twenties, since that's when most of Grandmother's scrapbook entries were made.  

 

                                      A Bedtime Story, by Howard R Garis

                                         Uncle Wiggly and the Stove Ashes

 

 

Woozie Wolf

 

          "Uncle Wiggly, oh Uncle Wiggly! called Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy in the hollow stump bungalo one morning. "Will you please take them out? Take them out as soon as you can!"

          "Eh! What's that? What's the matter?" asked the bunny gentleman, jumping up from the easy chair where he was reading the cabbage leaf newspaper. "Are the Pipsisewah and Skeezicks in my bungalo, making trouble for you? "Indeed I'll take them out at once, Nurse Jane! Hi there, you Pip and Skee!" cried Uncle Wiggly, as he made his pink nose twinkle upside down. "Let Nurse Jane alone!"

          "Oh, they aren't bothering me. They aren't even here!" said the muskrat lady with a laugh. "What I want you to take out, Uncle Wiggly, are the stove ashes, and you might shovel some on the front walk, as it is very slippery with ice this morning."

          "Oh, the stove ashes," laughed Uncle Wiggly when he had heard what Nurse Jane said. "So you want me to take out the stove ashes? And I thought you were calling me to drive out the Pip and Skee! Well I'm glad those bad chaps aren't in my hollow stump bungalo."

          "So am I," said Nurse Jane, and then Uncle Wiggly put on his oldest, tall silk hat to take out the stove ashes.

          The bunny rabbit gentleman put the ashes in a box, and then taking the fire shovel, he started out to sprinkle some of the ashes on the slippery sidewalk in front of his hollow stump bungalo.

          Up and down on the places Uncle Wiggly scattered the ashes, and now and then, the wind blew some of them on his pink twinkling nose, and he had to sneeze.

          "But I shouldn't mind a little thing like that," said Uncle Wiggly. "For I am helping Nurse Jane by taking out the stove ashes for her. And I am also making the walk so it isn't so slippery. I don't want any of my friends to fall down and get hurt."

          And, just as he said this to himself, Uncle Wiggly looked up toward the end of the walk, and he saw his dear old friend, Grandfather Goosey Gander, come stepping carefully along, slipping and sliding on places where, as yet, Uncle Wiggly had spread no ashes.

          "Wait a moment, Grandpa Goosey. Wait a moment!" called Uncle Wiggley. "Stand where you are, and I'll scatter some ashes under your webbed feet so you won't slip."

          "Ah, that is very kind of you," quacked the old gentleman gander, as he stepped on the ash-covered ice which wasn't slippery any more. "You are very kind, Uncle Wiggly. I wish everyone would put ashes on their slippery walks."

          "Yes, it would be a good thing," said the bunny.

          "Did you see anything of the Woozie Wolf or the Fuzzy Fox today, Uncle Wiggly?" asked Grandpa Goosey, as he waddled on, taking little short steps, so he wouldn't fall.

          "The Fox and the Wolf? Gracious sakes alive! I should hope not!" cried Uncle Wiggley. "Why do you ask?"

          "Because," answered Grandpa Goosey, "on my way here I caught the sound of howling and yowling in the woods, and I think it may have been those bad animals."

          "I hope not," said Uncle Wiggley, and he kept on putting ashes over the slippery places on the walk in front of his hollow stump bungalo.

          There were still many slippery spots to be covered on the walk, and Uncle Wiggly was going in his bungalo to get more ashes when, all of a sudden, he saw at the top end of his path, a big animal in a fur coat coming slowly along taking short steps in order not to slip.

          "I wonder if that is my old friend, Mr. Stubtail, the bear gentleman?" thought Uncle Wiggly.

          The bunny uncle was just going to hurry to sprinkle what few ashes he had left in his box on the ice near the big animal when all of a sudden this animal cried:

          "Ah, ha! Now I have you, Uncle Wiggly!"

          And then, instead of being good Mr. Stubtail, it was only the bad Woozie Wolf. He had wrapped himself in his biggest fur coat to look like Mr. Stubtail.

          "I want you! Uncle Wiggly, I want you!" cried the Woozie Wolf, "I want to nibble your ears for my New Year's dinner!"

          But, just as he said that the Wolf's paws slipped on the ice covered walk, and he would have fallen only that he caught hold of the fence.

          "My! how slippery it is!" howled the Wolf. "You didn't put any stove ashes here, Uncle Wiggly!"

          "No, I missed that place!" laughed the bunny, and he had to laugh and twinkle his pink nose as he saw the paws of the bad wolf slipping out from under him.

          "Here! You stop laughing at me!" Howled the wolf. "Come and put some ashes under my paws as you did for Grandpa Goosey! Then I won't slip."

          "Well, the very idea," cried Uncle Wiggly. "As if I would put ashes on slippery places for you, so you can get to me to nibble on my ears! I guess not!"

          "Well, I'll eat you anyhow - ashes or no ashes!" Howled the Woozie Wolf. Well he tried to walk along to get Uncle Wiggly, but the next moment the paws of the Wolf slipped on the ice and he went down ker-bunk and ker-bang, and he bumped his nose and skinned his toes and he felt so ashamed of himself that he turned a back somersault and a front peppersault, and slid on the back of his head away down to the end of the street, where he couldn't get Uncle Wiggly.

          "It's a good thing I didn't have ashes all over my walk when the Wolf came along," laughed the bunny gentleman. And then, with the Wolf out of the way, Mr. Longears sprinkled more ashes, until all his walk was covered, and no one else slipped down that day.

          And if the Jumping Jack doesn't take the legs off the dining room table to fasten them on the kitchen stove so it can run along the boardwalk, I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggly and the barn owl.

 

 

These are the stories Grandmother read to my mother when she was little. I think it's interesting that the wolf is trying to eat Uncle Wiggly, but not the bear, and I thought Geese honked instead of quacking, but little children aren't that critical. I remember begging my mother to tell me stories. I think that she was a little shy about making up stories because it took a lot of begging sometimes to get her started. The stories my mother told were about the adventures of a character she made up by the name of "Elfy." I loved them.

 

This story is obviously set in an early day. Uncle Wiggly wears a stove top hat, and his housekeeper, Nurse Jane, cooks on a wood burning stove. My mother told me she used to have the job of gathering kindling and taking out the ashes from Grandmother's stove. She said that she especially hated the job in the winter.  

         

Kaliteyo

 

 

                                           Kaliteyo Paul Willingham

 

Aunt Kaliteyo was my favorite aunt. It's not that I didn't love my Aunt Oteka too, but I didn't see her as much.  I kind of grew up with Aunt Kaliteyo. She would be at home visiting with my mother Wenonah when I got home from school, and we would have milk and cookies together. She loved to raid our ice box for corn bread. She taught me to swim, how to sit up straight, and how to answer the phone with "Gunning's residence." She was my buddy.

 

Aunt Kaliteyo was named after one of my great, great, great aunts, a sister of Ela-teecha, from whom we all get our Chickasaw blood. This aunt Kaliteyo was married to one of the Maytubby's. Floyd Maytubby, her great grandson, was the Chickasaw governor when I was little. I mentioned him in my story: The First Chickasaw Princess, published Oct 5, 2011.  

 

After my mother's death I found among her papers a legend about the origin of the Maytubby name. The document was written by Mrs. Agnes Trousdale, one of our Maytubby cousins. The story was never used by the historical society, and I haven't written about it myself until now, afraid that I might be infringing on the rights of the Maytubby's, but I've finally decided to write an abridged version with the idea of preserving the story for our family and for the tribe. I'm assuming that Mrs. Trousdale wouldn't mind since she gave it to my mother, Wenonah.

 

Mint-Ubbe, The Origin of the Chickasaw Name of Maytubbe

 

Long ago, before the coming of the white man, there was a great hunter among the Chickasaw. He could see farther, walk more softly, and shoot an arrow straighter than any of the other warriors. The tradition at that time was for each person to be given a name which represented a characteristic he possessed or a deed he had performed, but the chiefs had not given this warrior a name, since they could not think of one worthy of him.

 

In the same village lived a beautiful maiden called Kaliteyo, or "running water," because of the musical laughter which flowed forth from her mouth like a babbling brook. The great warrior and the lovely maiden Kaliteyo had long been exchanging glances when the warrior's mother delivered a bundle of clothes to the mother of Kaliteyo. This was the traditional manner of proposing marriage among the Chickasaw. If Kaliteyo accepted the bundle, it meant that she had accepted the warrior's proposal.

 

Of course Kaliteyo happily accepted the bundle; the two were married, and for many moons they lived happily together. Soon a son was born to them, and then another and another.

 

As the years passed, game became scarce near the village, and the hunters struggled to provide enough meat for the tribe. Finally, one autumn, when the stores of meat became low, the chiefs announced that if the hunters did not find game soon, the tribe could not survive the winter. So, bidding his wife and sons goodbye, the nameless hunter set out to find a new hunting ground.

 

The great hunter searched for many days, travelling far and wide, and finding only small game, but no deer or buffalo. Finally, fearing that his family might be starving, he gathered up what little meat he had found and started for home. Meanwhile, Kaliteyo, worried that her husband had been attacked by a wild beast or captured by a hostile tribe, left their children with her mother, and set out to find him.

 

After a few days, Kaliteyo came to a small valley filled with tall grass. As she looked she thought she saw something move. Then she saw them. She couldn't believe her eyes. In the valley was a large herd of buffalo. As she lay there, wondering if she had the strength to kill one of the massive beasts herself, she heard a noise. Not knowing whether the noise came from a wild animal or a hostile warrior, she lay still and waited. Then who should emerge from the forest but her husband, the nameless warrior.

 

Kaliteyo, overjoyed at finding her husband safe, and excited that they could now end the tribe's famine, began running toward her husband pointing toward the buffalo and calling out to him, "Mint-ubbe! Mint-ubbe!" - "Come and kill them! Come and kill them!" As the great hunter came over the ridge he saw them too, and quickly began releasing arrows into the herd.

 

As soon the nameless one had killed enough buffalo to feed the tribe for the winter he and his beloved Kaliteyo returned home to summon the other warriors to help butcher the meat and carry it back to the village. Afterwards there was a great celebration and the old chiefs finally gave the great hunter a name - Mint-ubbe.

 

Indian Ball Games

 

                                        Choctaw Ball Player, by George Catlin, 1834

 

 

I apologize for neglecting my blog site. Three of our children have come through town with their families so we have been enjoying visiting with them. I have been spending whatever writing time I have had to post on the Lone Tree Hiking Club Facebook site, trying to drum up interest in our club, and also to work on my book, which I'm beginning to think will never be finished.  

I could post several more entries about the Furniture Catalogue, which continues to fascinate me, but I thought I would get back to the Chickasaws instead. My daughters have recently visited the Chickasaw Culture Center down in Sulfur Oklahoma, which is worth a visit for anyone, whether a history buff or not. It looks like there have been several additions to the experience there since I visited it a couple of years ago.

For one, there have been several buildings added to the Chickasaw village. Also there was a craftsman making flutes. He also had drums, bows and arrows display. He let the kids accompany him with rattles and drums while he played the flute. I hope I get to see his display sometime. I've always been fascinated by the making of arrowheads out of flint stone. I tried when I was a boy, but was a miserable failure. I think it involves heating the stone and then dropping water on the edges. Maybe some day…

The other thing the kids got to see was an Indian ball game. They took a video and it showed both men and women playing. The men use sticks but the women can use their hands. There was only one goal in the demonstration, a pole with the image of a bird on top. The object was to hit the bird with the ball.

The game of stickball has a colorful history. It was originally called the "little brother to war" by the southeastern tribes who played the sport for recreation and also sometimes to settle disputes between tribes. The ball is a little larger than a golf ball and is made of cow or deer hide. Each player has two sticks with a cup on one end. The object of the game is to trap the ball between the sticks and carry or throw it through the goal posts. The French copied the game and called it Lacrosse because of the resemblance of the sticks used to a bishop's crosier.

In the old days teams were blessed and refereed by the tribes' medicine men. The goals were set about a mile apart and there were hundreds of players. About the only rule was that the players had to use the sticks to move the ball. Weapons were left on the sidelines, but players could use their bodies or their sticks to hit each other. Tackling, tripping, and hair pulling were allowed. Fights between individual players were tolerated, but other players were not allowed to interfere. Serious injuries and even death occurred.

Women also play ball, but they use their hands instead of sticks. A ball game between men and women of the Creek tribe was described by Major Ethan Allen Hitchcock in his memoir, edited by Grant Foreman, and published as "A Traveler in Indian Territory." According to Hitchcock, the women were winning in the game he watched.

Fans have always been enthusiastic in Indian ball games. In a game between the Chickasaw and Choctaw tribes in 1903 a fight broke out among the fans and the Lighthorse (Indian) Police had to be called in to break it up.

The famous western artist George Catlin was a Indian ball fan, and he attended games whenever he could. He wrote a detailed description of a game that is quoted on the Chickasaw Nation website in an article by Robert Perry. 

Indian ball or stickball is still played and although serous fights and attempts to injure an opponent are penalized, it is still much like the old game. I saw a game when I was nine or ten and it was really violent. Opponents hit and tackled each other and hit each other's sticks to knock the ball loose. I'll never forget it. 

I found some video of Indian stickball on YouTube. It shows excerpts from several games, and you can see what an exciting, challenging game it still is. See "Real Choctaw Stickball."

                          Choctaw Ball Play Dance at Skullyville, Indian Territory, 1834

                                                          George Catlin

 

The Furniture Catalogue, 3

Sorry I haven't posted a blog for a while. Our families have been visiting us so we've been busy rediscovering Colorado. That's what you do when company comes. You take them to see things that you think will impress them. Sometimes that's good and sometimes it's not. Anyway we took our son to see the Royal Gorge and found out that he is still afraid of heights, and I took my granddaughters mountain climbing and it gave them altitude sickness. I hope that doesn't mean no one will ever come to see us again. 

I miss the kids but it is good to get back to writing about my grandmother's scrap book, The Furniture Catalogue. A little more about my Grandmother, Victoria May Rosser Paul. She was born on March 31, 1877, and named after the Queen of England at that time, Queen Victoria. Her father had left Georgia after the Civil War and was headed west to join his brother Ed in Texas. Grandmother was born along the way near the town of Pittsboro, in "Calhoun County, Mississippi, three miles from the yellow bushy swamp" - that's the way she said it. Grandmother's family never made it to Texas, but settled instead in Indian Territory.  

Grandmother came from a wealthy family, and she was very beautiful as a young woman. As a child I never thought of Grandmother as pretty or as fashion conscious, but she was. Here is the youngest picture I have of her:  

                                          Victoria May Rosser Paul

My mother said that Grandmother had some very fancy dresses in her armoire which she never wore. They were poor by that time so she had no place to wear her dresses, but she could still put pictures of pretty clothes in her scrapbook:

Here are three other clippings that illustrate Grandmother's interest in fashion. They concern a Parisian fashion designer named Jean Philippe Worth who owned an exclusive store in Paris. Here is a picture of him: 

                                             Jean Philippe Worth

and another of his wife:

                                              Mrs. Jean Philippe Worth

There is also a clipping with a picture of the Marquise de Manzanedo, who, according to the caption under the picture, wore only muslin dresses during the War of 1870, because Worth's was closed. From his picture, it looks like Jean Philippe was called into military service.

                                         Marquise de Manzanedo

The "War of 1870" was the Franco-Prussian war. At that time France was ruled by Napoleon III, a nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte. He was first elected president and then made himself Emperor. He was the last monarch to rule France. The Germans won the war, and thereafter became united under the King of Prussia, Wilhelm I. It gives me a strange feeling to realized that although the Franco-Prussian War seems like ancient history to us now, it was a relatively recent event to my Grandmother.

Grandmother's family was French, and she was interested in all things French. My mother said that Grandmother taught her about French history as a child.

While most of the clippings in the scrap book are just pictures and poetry, there are a few concerning "current events." Here is an excerpt from a poem about the brutality of the Germans during WWI. Grandmother was partial to poetry:

The German Soldier's Prayer:

The German soldier fell upon his knees

And prayed; and as he prayed, his words were these:

"Oh God, our unconditional ally, Ruler and Kamerad, who from on high

Viewest with delight the progress of our arms,

The ruined villages and wasted farms.

The starving people we have taught to hate,

Children we murder, girls we violate,

Bless this poor instrument of thy great will;

Oh Heavenly Kaiser, teach me how to kill!

Now when WWII has grown dim in our memories, it's hard to imagine how strong was the hatred of Germany during the first world war. My mother told me that when she was little there was a violinist from Belgium who lived in Pauls Valley named Professor Bruin. He gave lessons to her older brother Willie. She said "he was a Asweet old man, and everyone respected him,@ but he was investigated by the government during WWI for possible ties to Germany. I don't know what harm he could have done in Pauls Valley regardless of his sympathies.

Grandmother was a volunteer with the Red Cross during WWI and there was apparently anti-Red Cross propaganda spread by the Kaiser. Here is a poem about that:

Who Knows?

Under this caption the Sangamon County (Illinois) Chapter has printed and circulated the following satirical reply to the German propaganda stories against the Red Cross:

"Absolute knowledge I have none.

But my aunt's washerwoman's sister's son

Heard a policeman on his beat

Say to a laborer on the street

That he had a letter just last week

Written in the finest Greek
From a Chinese coolie in Timbuctoo
Who said the Indians in Cuba knew
Who got it straight from a circus clown
That a man in the Klondike heard the news
From a gang of South American Jews
About somebody in Borneo
Who heard a man who claimed to know
Of a swell female society rake
Whose mother-in-law will undertake
To prove that her seventh husband's sister's niece
Has stated in a printed piece
That she has a son who knows a Zulu chief
Who knows that Red Cross funds are not used for relief."

Finally there's a newspaper clipping about the creator of Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who was a contemporary of my grandmother. He was apparently quite an outdoorsman. The article is from Canada:

Conan Doyle on Hunting Trip

Edmonton, Alta., June 17. (It doesn't give the year) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of the "Sherlock Holmes" adventures, who is accompanied by Lady Doyle, is camping in the Yellowhead Pass of the Canadian Rockies, west of here, the guest of Colonel S. Maynard Rogers, superintendant of the new national park, will attempt to scale Mt. Robson, 17576 feet above sea level, before returning to England, early in July.

He will also join Colonel Rogers and party on a big game expedition outside the reserve, making part of the trip in a canoe.

Although the author of the article got the elevation wrong - Mt. Robson is actually 12,972 ft. above sea level - climbing it is an impressive feat. You have to use special equipment to scale the cliffs, and even now, only about 10% of attempts are successful. Conan Doyle must have been quite athletic.   

                                                    Mt. Robson

The news recently carried the story that Conan Doyle was present at the first Olympic games held in England in 1908, when the current distance for the marathon was set. The winner of the race that day, Dorando Pietri, was so exhausted at the end that he fell five times during the last 350 meters and was helped back onto his feet by spectators. For that he was disqualified, and the medal was given to an American, Johnny Hayes. Conan Doyle, who was there as a reporter - he accepted the assignment because it would give him a better seat - helped raise money to help Pietri start a bakery in his native Italy, and Queen Alexandra presented him with a gilded silver cup to compensate for his Herculean effort. Doyle wrote:

"The Italian's great performance can never be effaced from our record of sport, be the decision of the judges what it may."

  

The Furniture Catalogue 2

                                   Grandmother's Furniture Catalogue

Since my last post, I've spent more time looking at the "Furniture Catalogue," my grandmother's scrapbook. I Googled the name on the catalogue, John V. Farwell and Co., and found out that the Farwell company was once one of the largest corporations in America. It was a wholesale distributer of "dry goods:" furniture, textiles and clothing, based in Chicago. Between 1880 and 1910 they grossed $20 mil. per year and employed over 1000 people. John Farwell himself started as a clerk in 1845 for the original company, which was called Wadsworth and Cooley.  By 1857 he had worked his way up to partner in the firm, and in 1863 the company became known as Farwell, Fields and Co. Farwell's partner, Marshall Fields, another up and coming young man, left soon afterwards to start his own company, and for the next 40 years the two companies were the most profitable names in dry goods. During the early 1900's however, the dry goods business changed. Manufacturers started selling directly to stores, eliminating the need for large wholesalers. Marshall Fields and Co. adapted by opening stores of their own, but Farwell and Co. did not. It closed its doors in 1925.  

From this, I figure that Grandmother probably started using the Farwell catalogue for a scrapbook around 1920, possibly earlier. The earliest date I can find among the pictures and articles is 1917, the latest 1932. Unfortunately, Grandmother made no effort to date her selections so any dates she included were purely by accident. Here's the cover of a magazine entitled Hunter Trader Trapper, from 1917.  

                                       Hunter, Trader and Trapper 

My other problem is that Grandmother didn't label the pictures. I didn't find the catalogue until the last few days of my mother Wenonah's life so I didn't get to go through it with her. She did tell me that one of the photos was of the actress Mary Pickford, one of the stars of the silent picture era. There are several other pictures in the catalogue which seem to be from movie ads, but only one includes a title, "Hawthorne of the U.S.A." starring Wallace Reid. Reed was another star of silent movies. He played romantic roles whereas Pickford played little girls or vivacious young women. Some of her famous roles were Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm and Pollyanna. From 1900 to 1930 Mary Pickford alleged to be the most famous woman in the world. She and her husband, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., fought the advent of talking pictures. In her opinion, "adding sound to movies would be like putting lipstick on the Venus de Milo".

                                                  Mary Pickford


As you can see Miss Pickford's picture is pasted on a page of the catalogue which advertizes wicker or "reed" furniture.  

My mother told me about going to silent movies when she was a child. There was an organ player who sat down in front providing background music for the film: fast music for action scenes, romantic music for love scenes, suspenseful music for mysteries, etc. I guess the organ player could play as loud as she (or he) wanted. There was no dialogue to drown out. My mother might not have seen many movies starring Pickford or Reid though. She told me that she and her brother Bob preferred westerns. 

Most of the pictures pasted in the catalogue are from ads. Most of the time Grandmother cut off the name of the company, but when she left it on, it's surprising how many of the names are familiar: Del Monte, Kellogg's, Coca Cola, Wrigley's gum, Chevrolet, Purina dog food, Burgess Seed and Plant Co. Here's an old Norman Rockwell painting advertizing Orange Crush:

                                               Norman Rockwell

Notice that the caption has been cut off. Grandmother was obviously just interested in the picture.  

Here's a picture advertizing Uncle Ben's Cream of Wheat. Isn't it amazing that the company is still using the same picture of Uncle Ben.

Uncle Ben 

It looks like I'll need to do another post or two from the Furniture Catalogue. There's just too much to condense into one or two articles. I'll finish this one off with a newspaper photo of the Oklahoma Chapter of the Grand Army of the Republic. I hope the quality of my copy is good enough for you to see the features of some of the men. Several could pass for Col. Sanders of fried chicken fame. There's a reason for that. The Grand Army was made up of Union Civil War veterans. As usual, Grandmother didn't include a date, but it's a pretty big group so I would guess the article dates from the early 20's. According to Wikipedia the Grand Army was active in lobbying for voting rights for black veterans, and for pensions for all veterans.

                                       Grand Army of the Republic
 

As you can see, the picture is pasted on a sheet of wallpaper. Grandmother often did that, I suppose to reinforce the thin pages of the catalogue.