Sam Phillips, our nearest neighbor, and Pappy often worked together so they found an answer to this problem. They would go
to the south or east to Gorman or Weatherford where there were large orchards, load the wagon with fruit, and hurry home.
Meantime, the women had rounded up jars and cleaned them throughly (usually my job) so that when the men returned the two
couples worked together at their homes alternatively, and in a very long, busy day carried all those peaches - the fruit most
commonly grown there. They put some lye in boiling water, dropped the peaches a few at a time in the water to remove the
fuzzy peel, then dipped them out and placed them in rinsing water, removing the seeds and any bad spots with knives, packing
jars with fruit, and cooking them. It was a long process but much easier than peeling with a knife. They all four enjoyed the
work together, and both families had fruit for another year. Sometimes any fruit more that we could put up right away was dried
and we children liked that very much. Another task the Sams, as they were called, cooperated on was killing hogs. This was
usually done at out home, for Pappy had the necessary equipment. The slain hog was dipped in hot water, then raised on a
pulley, scraped, and gutted. Every part of a hog was used. The guts were cleaned ou and used as containers for sausage or
dried so that we could make "chittlin" bread, the head was made into souse, the bits and pieces were ground for sausage, the
feet cooked too, the inner organs all used and the hams, shoulder, and sides were preserved. One process was to bury them in
salt in large barrels, or a better way was to dip the pieces in a mixture (Grandfather Allen often came out to make up his secret
formula), and the pieces were hung from the rafters in the smoke house and fire which gave off great amounts of smoke place
underneath for days or maybe longer. By the way, a smoke house was a necessity for this purpose and for storage of all sorts
of things. The flour, meal, sugar and salt were put in large boxes and closed securely. There they remained until need, with no
lock on the door either. On these occasions we children had a very good time even though we helped sometimes. I don't
remember when we worked, but I do recall a good lunch always appeared at the right hour. Another instance of cooperation
practiced by communities was threashing time. A man who owned a machine would begin at one end of the community and
with a few men to operate the huge thing would move from field to field until all the grain was threashed. Wheat and oats were
common grains. When the heads ripened, a reaper cut the stalks and bound them in bundles. Then a few bundles were placed
on end together, forming a shock. When the straw dried out came the threasher to separate the grain from the shaff. The
shocks wer lifted on to wagons and moved to the threasher, which poured grain out on one side and blew straw out a long
nozzle. The grain was hauled to a granery. All this was work for 20 or more men, who followed along and worked weeks to
thrash a good crop. The man who owned the machine was paid, but everyone else worked so his neighbors would help him.
Several women worked to prepare food for the men. All kinds of good food - fried chicken, baked hen, pots of pinto beans,
potato salad, fresh green beans canned recently, cakes and pies and coffee and breads - were placed on temporary tables,
under a tree shade was a pleasant place, and there the men feasted. If not far from home, they rode horseback to be home for
the wife. The thrasher crew found there own beds in the haystack or the barn. Children played and watched entire process with
happiness. It was a good time indeed when the granaries were all filled. Once or twice a year there would be a fish fry--maybe
only a few families or maybe people far and near. There were very good fishing holes in the Clear Fork River--from Crystal
Falls to Eliasville. We prepared to stay at least two days. The men did most of the work on these excursions, a welcome
change for the women. The men put seins into the water (no restrictions then) and pulled out a net full of fish, threw the small
ones back in the water and cleaned the fish as quickly as possible. Meanwhile a washpot of lard was being heated and into this
the fish were placed. Shortly they were removed a beautiful crispy morsel. Those were the best fish I've ever tasted! In the fall
we might have a time to go pick up pecans in about the same places we had fished earlier. There were native trees bearing
small, thick-shelled nuts. The trees were threashed with long bamboo poles (their owners fished with them) and down came a
shower of nuts. Now the children had a job, and even our backs were sore after this. However, the nuts repaid us for the
work. I liked these trips to the river for there were tall trees, pecans, elms, etc. At home there were largely mesquite and who
would run around under a mesquite or touch its bark or look up into it to spy a sausy squirrel or a beautiful bird? We had
different modes of transportation through our earlier years- a wagon, a buggy, a hack, and finally a car. Pappy enjoyed visiting
relatives and friends and when there was no works pressing he took us often so that we could see different places. I recall a trip
we made in our covered wagon like those shown on television now. It took a day to reach Mineral Wells, going by way of
Caddo. The next day we reached Uncle Earl's home in Weatherford. Our next point of call was Aunt Teula's home in Cundiff,
a small town about 14 miles northeast of Jacksboro. {Teula Ellen Allen Lindsay was my great-grandmother. She was married
to Bart Luther Lindsay.} We spent the night at a school house southeast of Jacksboro and reached Cundiff on the second
afternoon. Then it was another two days to get home. We children enjoyed that trip. I recall that it was the first time we ever
saw a Negro. You see, there were no Negroes in Stephens County at that time. I must digress to tell you about our first car-- a
much-used old Ford. It was very tempremental - sometimes starting easily when cranked but more often refusing to turn a
wheel. Pappy had difficulty in learning to drive. When he said "Giddup" it didn't hear. Wherever we went we expected to push
it up the hills and through the sand beds. In 1918 we took a trip to the west - to Knox City where Mama's sister Hattie Carter
lived, on to Matador, Lubbock, Brownfield, Snyder, Abilene and home again. That old car went along well, and that was fine,
for it was a really tiresome way. There were no paved roads, and the weather was hot, and we were very crowded. Pappy
visited friends at every stop and seemed quite happy! At Brownfield the rains came and we had to stay there several days. At
that time Lubbock was a very small town. I enjoyed seeing so many places I knew only from hearsay. Another time we set out
to visit another of Mama's sisters, Guster Harrison, who lived northwest of Breckenridge. We cut across country and did that
car act naughty! We pushed an pulled and got there to find them away from home, but we were told that there was an airplane
in Breckenridge. Pappy said we must see it so off we go! Yes there was a plane. It was piloted by a young man who had been
in the war and had flown home for the day. Several people took short rides in it. Seeing our first airplane was enough wonder
for one day. During the early part of this period there was drought in Texas. This dry time extended into our country but was
much worse further west. Our home was on the road from Breckenridge to Graham. Along which way covered wagons moved
slowly, the riders staring out at us. Many a night found such travelers camped at our tank. They had been forced to leave their
homes and go eastward in search of water and new homes. From some 50 acres of cotton we picked less than a bale of poor,
stunted bolls, and this was more than some of our neighbors made. Our large tank of water soon began to shrink. Early in this
dry, hot summer Pappy had filled the cistern as that we would have drinking water. Neither that nor the tank would hold out
too long. No matter, as long as we had water, Pappy divided it with those disheartened, weary travelers. When the cows
would not longer drink the tank water, he filled his wagon with barrels and drover over to a deep hole in the Clearfork of the
Brazos for a load of water. Every day he made that trip. He watered the stock of the passers-by from those barrels too. I
looked at him in wonder and amazement. He said, "It's all right! It'll rain again soon!" I can't say how long it was, but it wasn't
soon in spite of all our hopes and prayers. We went out to Knox City during that time. There were the fields plowed, planted,
but not a green leaf anywhere! That made me realize what a drought was really like. When rain did come, it fell in abundance
and wrought its damage too. Some years later after we were in Graham, we were vividly reminded of that long dry spell. A
very old house stood across the alley from us, and pitiful were most of the people who moved in and out. One afternoon there
came a wagon drawn by good looking team of horses. We discovered there was a family--parents, two grown sons, one late
teen age daughter, and a young daughter about 9 years old. The little girl named Johnie was talking with Ina. Our supper was
on the table, and we were gathering around. Mamam asked Johnie to join us, and she refused but lingered in the room. Then
Pappy asked whether she would like a piece of something. At this, she burst out, "We don't have anything to eat!" Pappy
jumped out of his chair, went across the alley and asked the man about this. He came hurrying back and without sitting down
said, "Yes, it's true!" He and Mama exchanged looks. I surmised what was coming. Then Pappy picked up the largest bowl on
the table-pinto beans-and Mama took a dish and he said, "Each of you bring a dish!" Our table was left bare. The Scotts were
hungry and grateful for the food. They had been driven from their comfortable home near Rotan to the east and now they were
trying to go back. Their plight was reported to the proper authorities and soon they were supplied with food and other
necessities and jobs for the men. They stayed months to amass a little money so they could buy stock, etc. They believed their
house would be standing but knew their stock had died. Later we visited them in their home, where they were working had to
make a living. They were a strong and brave people, but they could not defeat a drought! Now for our spiritual growth! We
were regular attendants at Pecan Sunday School and Church. Of course, there were times when the weather refused to
cooperate or when someone was ill and then we could not go, but I believe all were always eager to do so. Mama was a strict
Methodist of the old school; she did not cook on Sunday; she did not allow boisterousness on Sunday, she required us to
memorize the Bible verses on our Sunday School cards. On the way to Pecan we children rode in the back of the wagon and
repeated our Biblical verses on the way. The people of this community was largely quite devout and especially the older
women. They shouted almost every time we met. A man or two often joined them. The point is they were really good people
so we grew up knowing that people could be good and feeling there was a God whom we must love and respect. In the
summer there would be a week's revival. {Line missing} or repair the old one. Posts were used as cross posts at frequent
intervals and brush was piled on top to shut out the sun - thus the name. Seats were made by placing large logs parallel and thin
planks across them with no backs. Such seats were very uncomfortable when the service lasted three hours or more. Everyone
packed his wagon and moved to the site of the arbor - always near the school building/church. From the nearest house drinking
water was hauled in barrels. There was a stock tank below the hill. Meals were usually eaten with all present. Few people had
china, but everyone had tin plates and cups to use on such occasions. Pallets were spread on the ground where the young
children could play or sleep under their mother's watchful eyes. My father and most of the men rode horseback to their homes
to feed the stock. There were sermons twice a day and prayer services between - usually the women here and the men
elsewhere. There was singing by the young people not very good because for a time we had no organ and then we had no
organist. On Sunday people came from surrounding communities as there was always some woman organist then. Aunt Mercy
and her husband Charley Houston, and their three sons sometimes came from their home near Necessity. How beautiful she
was - tall and slim, her black hair shining! She could make an organ talk! I was very proud of her. Always there was much
weeping and shouting. At one of these meetings J. C. was converted. I had earlier joined the church while we were in
Breckenridge. Even after the week revivals were discontinued, there were special Sundays when there was "dinner on the
Ground". The last one before we left Pecan we children attended alone, for Mama was ill at the time. She had told me what
food to prepare, and I had done my very best. I was most proud when a number of persons, Uncle Tom among, remarked that
I (a 14 year old) was already almost as good a cook as my mother. That was in the summer on 1919 - a memorable year for
our family, making radical changes in our lives. In January Mama underwent surgery for the removal of a large gall stone. She
had lost a baby the September before and had been ill - sometimes dangerously so--those five months--a long, anxious time for
all. At last she began to mend. We children had been at loose ends-staying with the Phillips family, or Uncle Tom and wife, or
even alone at home, J.C. caring for the stock and I acting as housekeeper. My chief helper was Aunt Ellen who visited us often.
She showed me how to cook, helped clean the house, and then sat down and mended our clothes. I never forgot her kindness
and mourned her death which occurred long after. Pappy had some money on hand as the result of selling some oil royalty. It
was decided by our parents that we should move to a town where we could all attend a good school. Graham seemed to be a
logical selection--an old, steady town with railroad connections to the East and North and a good school. A house was
purchased and plans to move in the late summer were laid. However, there were to be some serious delays. Pappy got
threasher dust fever and for one of the few times I can remember had to stay in bed two weeks. Meantime, the corn was ripe
so we children gathered it, Tommie driving them team and J. C. and I pulling the ears. That wasn't an easy job, but there was
more to come. Some acres of cane with tall and heavy stalks and large heads of grain was also ripe. A neighbor came and cut
it, but that was only the first step. Those bundles were so heavy that J. C. and I both had to work hard to lift one, but somehow
we shocked them. Now that was really hard work! Grandfather Allen was very ill, suffering from Dropsy. Not wishing to be 25
miles further from him, we delayed our move. You see, there was an oil boom in one part of Texas and no paved roads. The
heavy trucks laden with drilling equipment created deep ruts so that it took horses to drive the 12 miles to Breckenridge. When
Grandfather died in mid November, we drove the wagon to town.
 

Last Update Monday, 07-May-2018 17:55:44 CDT

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