WANDERING WEST

Although living in tents and small buildings on wheels may not have been the ideal way of life, for some families, it seemed to work. It was always easy to pack up and move when their situation called for it. They left North Carolina in the Spring of ’49 fully intending to settle down for a few years in Missouri where it was rumored that work was readily available for any able-bodied man who was willing to sweat and sacrifice as needed to provide for his wife and children. And, traveling as a group, there were always relatives and in-laws nearby to help out when times called for it. But it was not long before the lure of newly-discovered gold in Montana was stronger than the desire to stay put. It would be only a month or so after this photograph was taken that the whole group would take down and fold up the tent, hitch the horses to the rolling houses and be on their way. Little Nell would often get to ride in the children's wagon wherever the terrain allowed, while Maggie, being a couple of years older, would be made to walk beside her. The Mr. and Mrs. were the privileged two who always seemed to get to ride – perhaps that was because the only saddles possessed by the entire clan, belonged to them. Upon arriving at their destination, whether it be Salina, KS or Missoula, MT, not long after pitching the tent and unhitching the horses, they would dress in their Sunday best and make their way into town to celebrate and get acquainted with the folks who would be their friends and neighbors for the unforeseeable future. Unfortunately, their semi-gypsy lifestyle sometimes caused others to be suspicious and wary of them and, more often than not, they would find it necessary to hit the road in search of greener pastures and friendlier folks. Had they not made this one photograph somewhere in Oklahoma, we might have had no record of them at all.

MATILDA THE MECHANIC

During World War II the fame of Rosie the Riveter spread far and wide. Everyone who was involved in the war effort in even the smallest way was familiar with her and the legion of female workers that she represented. But almost no one ever heard of Matilda the Mechanic. Although she never had any formal training in auto repair, she was a natural at keeping the General’s 1940 Chevrolet running at its best. She could pop the hood and diagnose the problem as well as or even better than most of the guys who did this sort of thing. Whether it was changing the spark plugs or the oil, she was as quick as she was talented. A little axle grease mixed in with her mascara didn’t bother her one bit. Often with just a screwdriver and a pair of pliers she could have an engine running as smooth as silk. Fixing a flat tire was all in a day’s work for Matilda. A couple of tire irons, a jack, a lug wrench, a patch kit and a pump were to her just the same as jewelry was to most women. She was proud of her work and she had every right to be. When the war was finally over she was awarded The Golden Wrench of Meritorious Service for the many times that she went above and beyond what anyone else would have done. For years afterward, anytime one of her local home town mechanics could not diagnose or fix a problem, he would call Matilda to bail him out. And she was always pleased to continue to be of service to her country and her fellow man.

SONNY AND SWEETEX

The year was 1933. The Proctor and Gamble Company introduced a new product that was sold to commercial bakeries. It was called Sweetex Pure Vegetable Shortening and was described as "The High-Ratio shortening for cakes of better taste, texture, and keeping quality, for superior icings".

In that same year, Sonny Boy was born. Somehow, somewhere Sonny and Sweetex came together just about the time of his first birthday. As he posed atop the Sweetex container on that occasion, who could have known or predicted that some years later he would be, among other things, a musician, singer, and songwriter. Among many songs composed by Sonny was the now famous take-off of the Smokey the Bear song. While the original words were, 

"Smokey the Bear, Smokey the Bear. 
Prowlin' and a growlin' and a sniffin' the air.
He can find a fire before it starts to flame.
That's why they call him Smokey,
That was how he got his name."

Sonny's version changed the bear to a rabbit known as "Dopey the Hare" and the song became;

"Dopey the Hare, Dopey the Hare.
Jumpin' and a skippin' right into the fire.
He can't smell a fire until he's burnt like toast.
That's why they call him Dopey, 
Now we have a rabbit roast."

One of the other things Sonny was known for was his somewhat unusual sense of humor.

MY AUNT RUTH

Approximately 1920, at the tender age of five or six years old she gave her heart and life to God after listening to a message preached by Colonel Samuel Logan Brengle at The Salvation Army, 403 Congress Avenue in Austin, TX. In 1933 she entered The Salvation Army Training College in Atlanta, GA. as a cadet in the Do and Dare Session . In 1983,  after forty-nine years of service, she wrote;

"...the little cadet, whose superior officers were told by three different doctors, at three different periods of my life, that she should resign, is still on active duty. They said I was not able to do Salvation Army work as it required more physical stamina than I had, but I am still on the field, working for the Lord. My strength is given by God, who does not make mistakes, and who defies doctors statements and gives strength to the weak to do His tasks, and makes them able to do the work God wants them to do. To God I give all the glory for without His help I could never have made it. He has done many miracles in my life and I know God lives and He hears and answers prayer and this is another chapter of His miracles and power." - - Ruth (Schneider) Breazeale in OUR DWELLING PLACE by Anice (Schneider) Williams

Above photo courtesy of The Salvation Army Historical Center, USA Southern Territory, Atlanta, GA.

http://salvationarmy.pastperfectonline.com/

THEY WERE SOLDIERS

They were fathers, brothers, uncles, cousins, friends, neighbors and more. They were farmers, grocers, carpenters, lawyers, doctors and any other occupation that you could name. They came from the big city, the small town and way out in the country. They might be college educated or high school dropouts. None of that mattered to them; when their country needed them, they were soldiers. They wore the uniform with pride and carried the weapon as though not only theirs, but many other lives depended on it, and they did. They lived in barracks, tents, foxholes, etc. – wherever their duties required them to be in order to accomplish the job that they had trained for. They endured heat, cold, rain, snow and whatever the world threw at them, depending on where they were serving. They laughed, they cried, they suffered, they endured and they kept on going as long as necessary. As long as their country called, they answered. Then and now, they deserve honor, respect, recognition and gratitude for their willingness to leave all and go who-knew-where to do something that not many of them would ever have chosen to do. Whether they died on the battlefield or returned home; sometimes to a hero’s welcome and sometimes not, they deserve to be remembered. Whether they served in a world war, a conflict, or a peace-keeping mission, they deserve to be remembered. Because they left home in order to protect the homeland, they deserve to be remembered. They were soldiers. 

CONVERTED COWBOY

JACK WINSETT-WRANGLER OF SOULS
by Harold Preece

“There are evangelists and evangelists: converted-infidel evangelists, ex-convict evangelists, and last and noisiest, cowboy evangelists. … Jack Winsett, punching cattle on the Devil's River of Southwest Texas, heard the call of the Lord, and, surrendering a promising future as a ranch foreman, left the devil's domain to go out into the highways and byways in quest of the lost. Not that Winsett seems to have suffered either physically or financially as a result of taking up the Cross. A well-fed individual in his early forties, weighing nearly two hundred pounds, and wearing good, if unmatched clothes, the reverend cowhand presents a picture of prosperity not displayed by the yokels who nightly gape at his hell-raising rantings and ridiculous hyperboles. If Brother Winsett feels that he is not getting enough money or provisions, he jocularly but firmly reminds his congregation and insists that they come across. A young woman who accompanied me to his service spoke of him as ‘an amiable old pirate’.” - -

LITTLE BLUE BOOK NO. 1606
Clarence Darrow: Evangelist of Sane Thinking -  by George G. Whitehead 

HALDEMAN-JULIUS PUBLICATIONS GIRARD. KANSAS - Copyright 1931

“There was a revival meeting in town; (1930) Jack Winsett, a red-haired cowboy evangelist, was preaching in a tent meeting. I was too little to remember anything about his preaching, but it seems that Mother and Daddy and the other kids really liked him and we went every night possible. It took some doing to get the chores done in time to drive to town and be there when the meeting began.” – Anice (Schneider) Williams - “Our Dwelling Place”

THE SHOOTOUT

They were known by the rest of the family as the “crazy uncles”. They came together only on rare occasions; family reunions, weddings, funerals, etc. No one really knew or could remember just why they didn’t like each other, but they didn’t. Usually, they were able to avoid each other, but there were also occasions when they couldn’t. This seems to be one of those times. Unfortunately, they were both packing their Saturday Night Specials and although neither of them suffered any serious damage, this meeting was to go down in family history as the “Shootout at the Doghouse”.

ROBBERS REWARD

They were somewhat of a local legend. Even as children they were used to taking whatever they wanted from whomever they chose. In their adolescent years, they were known by the town folks as liars, cheaters and stealers. I seemed inevitable that at some point they would graduate to bank robbery. And so it was no surprise to anyone when the wanted posters began to show up in many places around their hometown. Based on the size of the reward that was being offered for their capture, they must have been involved in some rather high-stakes thievery. For many months the local law enforcement officers pursued what seemed like profitable leads, only to be disappointed time after time. Then, one warm summer day, quite by accident, their reign of robbery came crashing down around them. Even though they were dressed from head to toe in female attire, they were recognized by two local off-duty sheriff’s deputies. As they were escorted through town toward the jail, people on both sides of the street began to clap and cheer knowing that Ronnie and Clyde were finally going to be rewarded with the punishment that they had earned by their many nefarious acts, and which they so richly deserved.

LEANING LADIES

In most areas the members of the Tuesday afternoon ladies club were known as a trustworthy and well-balanced group. No matter what the situation or occasion, they always appeared to be immaculately groomed and modestly dressed. They attended the church services religiously and regularly. Those who were married all seemed to have happy and contented husbands. Those who were unattached, were seriously sought after and courted by young men of higher than average intelligence and character. Children of these women were well-behaved at home, model students in school, and quietly attentive in the church. To the average person, these ladies seem to be setting the example of others to follow. However, when it came to politics and photos, without exception, they all leaned a little to the left.

CHASING CHICKENS

If they could do it with cows, then why couldn’t we do it with chickens? Round them up into one big bunch (herd for cows, flock for chickens) and chase them into town right up to the back door of the local KFC. At least we had to give it a try. So, one summer Saturday morning we gathered them together and gave it our best shot. Big sister, the little squirt, and I began moving them along the dirt road in the direction of the city. It didn’t take long for us to realize the futility of such an endeavor. What we had failed to take into consideration was the fact that, unlike cows, chickens can fly. (at least to some degree) It took so much time to get the darn birds out of the trees that it was now too dark to continue our journey. According to our count the next morning, we did manage to get all but 3 of them back home and into the coop for the night. As I think back on our failed attempt, I sometimes think I can hear Colonel Sanders laughing uncontrollably.

ESCAPE ARTIST

They knew from the very start that this baby would be a difficult child. It didn’t seem to matter how careful they were, as soon as he was old enough to crawl, he always seemed to find a way to get out of the house. Usually, they noticed and caught him before he was able to get off of the front porch, but on this one occasion he was successful in making his way out to the fence that surrounded the front yard. Luckily, he was spotted just as he started to climb up. After he was carried back inside the house, they would swear that later that same day they saw him sitting in the corner of his bedroom softly singing “Don’t Fence Me In”.

LITTLE WALNUT CHURCH

It was built in the usual style of the country church of the late nineteenth century with arched windows and doors and a spire pointing Heavenward. The church building, itself, was about fifty years old at the time and it showed its age but it was beautiful in its own way. The inside walls, from the floor two or three feet high up, were painted a rather ugly brown. The window frames were painted this color, too. But the rest of the walls and the ceiling were painted a light blue and I loved these blue walls. …in the summer we began holding regular services there on Sunday afternoons. I can close my eyes now and see this little church as it was back in those lovely long ago days. …I have a picture taken in front of the church on one of those summer afternoons. Adolph Cone stands at the top of the steps, smiling benignly down on us. On the step below stands Charlie Pedersen, Mrs. Gilbert and Daddy. William, looking grave and dignified stands beside Mrs. Charlie Davis, a pleasant looking woman of Dutch Lineage, a member of the Church of Christ. On the next row is Bettie Opal Cone, myself, Robbie Houston and Dorothy and Lloyd Cone. And in front is Robbie’s sister Bonita, who is as old as I am but looks like a little girl here as she was very small. And just in front of her are Vida Jo and Minnie Faye Gilbert, Mrs. Gilbert’s granddaughters. …some of our fondest and most cherished memories are of those dear people who were our friends at that little white church. - - Anice (Schneider) Williams - “Our Dwelling Place”

STOP-LOOK-LISTEN-READY-AIM-FIRE-GO-TO-JAIL

Everyone in the family knew that he had been saving for several years to buy the rifle. When the day finally came that he was able to purchase it, he was overjoyed. Just as soon as he possibly could, he would take the opportunity to try it out. But living in the city, he had no place close where he could shoot in safety. So, one day when he had to make a trip to visit family who lived quite a ways out in the country, he grabbed the rifle and took it along. And somewhere between departure and destination, he encountered detention. It happened like this: while driving along he had not seen any houses, cars, or other people for quite some time, therefore, he thought it would be the perfect opportunity to test out the new rifle. Out in the middle of what he considered to be nowhere, he pulled the '48 Ford over to the side of the road and got out - with the rifle in his hand. He loaded it, aimed and fired a couple of shots into the dirt. He was so involved in doing this that he failed to notice that someone had walked up behind him – someone who turned out to be a county constable on routine patrol. As he was led away to the local lock-up, he was informed that he was being detained on the charge of “Attempted Road Kill”.