Dedication
To the memory of my Father,
Lee Otis J
Acknowledgments
Upon coming onto the age of seventy years of
age a whole new world has opened up to me through only the making of
notes and writing parts and parcels of my life. This year of 2004 is the
time for the retirement of the baby boomers. Hopefully my frail efforts
will encourage many of those to share their stories, too. These are what
makes the spice of life and can bring us all together in an appreciation
of one another's individual experiences.
There has been a wonderful sifting work
going on in my life since the publishing of my first book, How To Keep
Up With The Joneses. I walk away from that with truer friends and family
than I ever had. Those who supported me and were proud of my
accomplishments have given me a greater appreciation for these special
people in my life.
Introduction: Story of my
father, Lee Otis Jones
Lee Otis Jones, my father, lived the early
beginnings and through the era when the middle part of the nation had to
catch up with the east and west coast's strong, accomplishments. In the
span of time when Lee was born, 1902. In 1986 when he died, the state of
Oklahoma was up with and equal to the rest of the nation. There was a
difference in the achievements because everything was done in a shorter
length of years, in Lee's case, 84 years. The telling of Lee's story is
of interest because he went from the early oil boom days to and through
the history making days of presidents: Teddy Roosevelt, Taft, Wilson,
Harding, Coolidge, Hoover, Franklin Roosevelt, Truman, Eisenhower,
Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter and Reagan. Once when a nurse
asked him who was president while she was trying to see if he was aware
of the world around him. He said, “Ray-Gun” as he grinned and pointed
his finger at her he said, “and don't you forget it.”
The young nurse looked around wide eyed
with a puzzled look on her face. He kept his sense of humor through all
the good times and hard times in which he lived and maybe this is the
secret to living a good life.
TOC
Lee's
Passion and the Strike
Ax.......................................................................................................
11
Dad and
the Cattle
Call....................................................................................................................
14
Buckbrush,
Yonka Pins and
Catfish................................................................................................
16
Lee's
Aunt
Jude...............................................................................................................................
18
Lee's
Story, The Last Sun
Dance.....................................................................................................
21
Cheyenne
Moon..............................................................................................................................
23
Lee's
Gramma Collins of the Hunters,
Brewers.................................................................................
25
War Raged
Around
Joe...................................................................................................................
27
Five More
Years at
Ralston.............................................................................................................
29
They
Called Lee a
Genius................................................................................................................
32
A New
Beginning for
Lee................................................................................................................
34
Whiz
Bang.......................................................................................................................................
36
Marriage,
Churches and
Schools......................................................................................................
37
Lee and
Emma................................................................................................................................
39
Ponca
City,
1935............................................................................................................................
42
Dennis
Manipulates and
Manages....................................................................................................
44
Closing
Out at
Ponca.......................................................................................................................
46
Lee and
Velma
Marry......................................................................................................................
48
Home
Again, Home
Again...............................................................................................................
50
Bertha
and
Lee................................................................................................................................
52
Velma's
Livestock...........................................................................................................................
54
Dealing
with
Grief............................................................................................................................
56
Strike Ax
Living...............................................................................................................................
59
Work,
Work and More Work
........................................................................................................
62
Fear All
About................................................................................................................................
63
Lee's
Land and Family
Management................................................................................................
65
It Was
Like
This..............................................................................................................................
67
We Were
So
Protected...................................................................................................................
70
Questions........................................................................................................................................
73
A Dream
Sold for
$8000.00............................................................................................................
75
Bell's
Death.....................................................................................................................................
79
Cleveland,
Ohio...............................................................................................................................
81
Peaceful
Warfare.............................................................................................................................
83
This
Fight for
Life............................................................................................................................
85
Stones
and
Rocks............................................................................................................................
86
Where Was
Our
Home....................................................................................................................
89
Little
Pin Up
Girls............................................................................................................................
91
Far Out
Places................................................................................................................................
93
The
Attorney,
Covington..................................................................................................................
95
Family
Discrimination.......................................................................................................................
97
Running
After the Arrow
Place.........................................................................................................
99
Over His
Head..............................................................................................................................
102
Cleaning
Up, Fixing
Up..................................................................................................................
104
Sally on
Wheels.............................................................................................................................
106
Of Pecan,
Furs, and
Skins.............................................................................................................
108
Bridges
109
Bicycles
and Motor
Scooters.........................................................................................................
111
Sally in
Court.................................................................................................................................
113
Fire.....
115
Xerxes
117
Agricultural Drought,
1953.............................................................................................................
119
Tonkawa.......................................................................................................................................
121
May I
Join?...................................................................................................................................
123
That
Different
Drummer.................................................................................................................
126
Morward
Fin!................................................................................................................................
128
How Had
They
Managed?.............................................................................................................
130
This Too
Shall
Pass.......................................................................................................................
132
Life Goes
On.................................................................................................................................
134
You
Sees......................................................................................................................................
137
Letters
From
Home.......................................................................................................................
139
Second
Street................................................................................................................................
141
Good-Byes, Whistles and
Bells......................................................................................................
144
Dennis
and Lee in Stride
Again......................................................................................................
146
Shawnee.......................................................................................................................................
148
Ignorance
is a
Bliss........................................................................................................................
149
Smell
That Sweet
Aroma...............................................................................................................
151
About My
Dad..............................................................................................................................
153
Meat in
Due
Season......................................................................................................................
155
Hot Slag
In Lee's
Eye....................................................................................................................
157
Years of
Hard Labor
Over............................................................................................................
159
Indian
Children in the
Schools........................................................................................................
161
Wimpy's........................................................................................................................................
163
Full
Circle......................................................................................................................................
166
Lee's Passion and
the Strike Axtc \l1 "Lee's Passion and the Strike Ax
The story of Lee Otis
Jones, my father.
Fancy,
the Donkey
The sandy, murky, water of the Arkansas
River flowing past Ralston, Oklahoma in 1908 was at the edge of my
father Lee's family's home. A hastily built cabin of logs was their
residence but it was their shelter which was nestled in the heavy timber
along the river. The little family had run from the dust bowl of western
Oklahoma. They had experienced agonies from the trip across blowing
sands with short food supplies, tired horses and weakened wagon but that
was over now. This household was ready to stand against the cold blowing
winds of winter. At a place that dropped away from the bare prairie
lands this location offered protection from the gales of relentless
winds. Bell, Lee's mother, was determined to settle here and have her
sons take advantage of the education and country like school in town.
The retreat for them was alive with rich green surroundings which was a
breath of fresh air away from the hot, dry, harsh lands from where they
had just traveled.
Bell's table was where her second son, Lee,
was having his breakfast and it was a rough, handmade piece of furniture
built by his father, Joe, who was an accomplished carpenter as well, had
to do everything with haste to meet the challenges of the impending
freezing temperatures soon to be upon them. The serviceable table Bell
had covered with a white Damask tablecloth which denied the existence of
any unfinished look. Yeast rolls were folded in a napkin inside a basket
and Lee could smell their delicious aroma. The ingredient to make this
rise was made from potatoes and eternally bubbled at the back of Bell's
wood stove. Scrambled eggs from their chicken's nests, chitlins rendered
from the hogs, and milk from the fresh cow with a calf were part of
Lee's breakfast. Dennis, Lee's older brother was already walking and on
his way toward the school in town. Joe was skilled in the frontier ways
of bartering and trading and he was able to put a homestead together
effortlessly. His own grandfather, William Jones, had already taught the
family these practices after he settled Oklahoma as an Indian Agent for
the Federal Government before statehood. Bell worked diligently to make
a pleasant life style within this house having coarse, log walls.
Covering the irregular boards of the table top with a white cloth was
only one of her ways she had of dealing with the uncivilized conditions.
She had grown up with pioneering parents in Arkansas and it was as easy
for her to create a genteel world from rough surroundings as it was to
create soft, beautiful dresses on the sewing machine. It all was second
nature for her.
“You best catch Fancy when you finish your
meal,” Bell admonished Lee. “You know how difficult she can be.”
Fancy was the vexatious, little donkey Lee
rode to school. From experience he did know how stubborn she could be.
This morning was no different. The boy of six plodded through the dry
grass of the pasture after her. If he ran toward her, the beast picked
up her ears. With wide walleyes, the donkey immediately danced to the
side, turned, kicked up her heels to run at a full tilt to a far corner
of the pasture. After repeating these actions many times she finally
stood munching a mouthful of grass while the boy slowly, ever so
carefully, walked toward her to slip the bridle over her ears. No one
had taught Lee to hide the bridle behind his back so she couldn't see
it.
“Oh well. I'm tired of this game, anyway,”
she seemed to be saying. The animals demeanor was one of a child with an
attitude.
“Fancy!” Lee was exasperated. “You have made
me late for school again.”
“Mother, I don't want to go to school tardy,
again,” Lee pleaded with Bell.
“You certainly will go to school. Your
teacher understands about unruly donkeys. I'm sure she deals with enough
of those every day.”
Lee picked up his lunch pail that was a grey
galvanized tin bucket with a handle of heavy wire Joe had attached to
it. Even though he slowly and carefully pushed the heavy kitchen door
open, it still sent up complaining, squeaking sounds as if the hinges
were rebelling against holding the large hewn pieces of lumber.
At this approaching early mid-morning the
boy often would be halfway to his destination when the donkey in its
willful way bucked him off. The last leg of his trip necessarily had to
be walked, which made Lee even more tardy. Three years of the same
routine past. Fancy didn't change her ways but Bell was maintaining a
stand in her needs to see her son educated even though the donkey wanted
to have its freedom. After all, Lee had learned to read and write.
The other battle was more troubling and not
as easy to conquer. The severe test of having to live through his asthma
was upon the boy. The disease was more than a discomfort at times. Often
it was the ultimate test. When an attack hit, it didn't matter if he was
at home or at school. Fighting for the basic need to breath contorted
his face. His glazed eyes seemed to be desperately focused while his
mind was willing him to live. Of course, Bell fought for her son's life
with determination. The teacher's feelings were different. She was a
teacher not a nurse. If asthma came upon the boy at school, the trauma
was often beyond the youthful teacher's ability to work through. Other
students who were well and there for her instructions had to be
considered. Sometimes, a half day would be lost to the terror of the
thought that the boy was not going to be able to draw another breath.
This morning saw him going through the same
paces with the stubborn donkey. Again, halfway to school, the donkey
tossed the boy, books, lunch-pail and all, off its back. Lee picked
himself up, gathering his books and the contents of his lunch pail. He
sat down beside the road to eat the sandwich of homemade bread, butter
and mint jelly. Something in the mint always seemed to clear his
breathing a bit. It worked to hold off an asthma attack he thought. The
large mullein-leaf in the bottom of the pail he took in his hands. Lee
crushed the leaf to release its oils. This he rubbed this about on his
shirt. The sticky little burr-like fibers he kept off his skin. He felt
relief as the dreaded asthma held back and did not come upon him at this
moment. Lee stood up, brushed off his pants and, instead of walking in
the direction of the school, he turned back toward his home.
The boy standing in the kitchen door
presented a sad site to his mother.
“I'm not going back!” Lee declared.
Bell studied him closely in the way she was
known to do before answering him.
“You don't have to go back, Son. You have
learned to read and write. I will teach you here at home from now on.”
This she did. Lee became a student of the
land around him. He could name every plant, tree, shrub or vine. He knew
their uses, whether for healing, weaving, carving, tanning of leather
and so much more. He was a student all through his life. The elements
taught him through their mysteries involving science. The Osages around
taught him their wisdom. His education was so wide there would never be
an end to what he knew and practiced. These were part of the reasons the
man's mind seemed at peace and at one with the grounds of the world
around him.
The family's respect for a creator made him
a student of the scriptures, as well. His understanding was a marvelous
thing. So many mysteries he understood and shared with whoever would
listen, not to convert, but like Christ to truly teach and share the
wisdom of the Son's Father. Without traditional church going he was not
burdened with set repetitive ceremony. His mind was free to be in unity
with a higher power he called his Maker.
In a way, the dilatory little
beast-of-burden named Fancy, gave to Lee's family a gift even though the
animal had no thoughts of anything so great. Fancy's only wish was to
simply be free.
Dad and the
Cattle Calltc \l1 "Dad and the Cattle Call
“Woooo, wooo, ow wooo ooo e you, wooo, wooo,
e, yup te dooo, singin' the cattle call.” A handsome, black-haired-man
sang as he rode his white horse. He was impeccably dressed in a dark
suit and white shirt. Hair, smooth and uncommonly neat emphasized those
sharp good looks. Night shadows caused Lee to feel the evening was
mysterious and exciting. The man's song rang through and about the spans
of the heavy metal bridge as he rode over the river on his way to
Ralston. Lee felt everything about him was fine and pleasant.
Ralston was in its hay day in 1912. It was
said that there were thirty-six establishments for adult entertainment
in every shape and style from elegant to nothing more than a tent. Many
people used the bridge at the edge of the family property. This evening
was no different from the others. The boy, Lee, was required to be in
his bed early, but this didn't stop him from hearing the people as they
crossed into the little town. Sometimes he would hear a wagon load of
people who were talking and laughing. At times, a wild, spirited horse
would be ridden at break-neck speeds which made the bridge echo with the
sounds of the horse's hooves. Everyone had one purpose and that was to
go into town for an evening of recreation.
Through the crack in the door the child
could see his mother sewing at her treadle machine. The coal oil lamp
gave her all the light she had. He could see her slender feet in tiny
shoes pushing up and down on the pedal. Across one side of the machine
were the strips of bright colored silk which were sewn into the
beautiful regalia shirts for the Osage men. The scraps of brightly
colored fabric would be saved for putting together a crazy quilt.
Embroidery around the edges of each piece made the work special and was
always a precious gift for some dark haired Native baby.
Rustling sound of the leaves on the corn
stalks came through the window and lulled the boy to sleep. He was
awakened abruptly. Lee heard an unsettled team of horses in the front
yard. Jingling harnesses told him the horses were not easy. They were
dutifully standing at their place because they were well bred and
trained but Lee could tell they were seemingly not knowing which way to
turn.
A woman screamed. The long, piercing cry was
startling and repeated as though something was causing her pain. Her
voice could be heard between the cries. She was speaking Osage. She
would stop only long enough to loudly beg, “Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones!”
Bell, Lee's mother, was quick! She bent over
the coal oil lamp, and with one puff of her breath into the top of the
glass globe; blew it out. In the darkness the boy could hear his father,
Joe, moving swiftly through the front door. Sound, more than sight,
informed the boy of what was happening.
The Osage woman was now inside the cabin.
She cowered at Bell's feet sobbing in her own language. “He will kill
me, he will kill me.”
“Sh-sh-sh. You are going to be safe. Don't
cry.” Lee heard his mother comfort the woman.
Joe was a small man but that did not mean he
wasn't an able protector. His quick action and strength in his torso and
legs from hard work and horseback riding gave him an edge. As a man
tried to follow the woman into the cabin Joe was upon him. Rather than
shoot his gun he used the stock of the shotgun like a club. In a short
time the intruder was racing to get to his wagon and team of horses to
escape.
Lee's Dad returned to the cabin and he was
busily striking a kitchen match to light the lamp. When the light struck
the woman's face Lee could see she had been beaten.
“It makes me so gall durn furious when a
white man takes one of these Indian women and then abuses her like this.
Get a pan of cold water and try to do something with her face, Bell.”
“Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones! Save Mary, Save
Mary!” The quaking woman knew she had a close call. In her broken
English she was trying to thank Joe.
In an instant the peaceful scene around the
boy had been shattered. This was just the beginnings of the terrors to
come into Osage County. The money from their oil wells brought newer,
almost unsolvable problems to them.
The man, who earlier rode his white horse
and sang his beautiful cattle call, became one of the most heinous
criminals in the history of Oklahoma. Lee often wondered when he was
older how such a thing could happen. He was puzzled as to how such a
handsome man, who seemed to be so refined, could do some of the things
he did. This man was Bill Hale–the same Bill Hale who was tried and
found guilty as the mastermind of nefarious crimes against Whites as
well as Indians. In fact, those crimes were planned in a small house not
far from Ralston on the road to Hominy, Oklahoma. If Lee were living
today, he would have a great pleasure to see civilization has moved
forward in that the house is now a museum. It may be a bit haunted, but,
nevertheless; It is a museum. Whitehair Museum is hidden from the road
half way between Fairfax and Hominy.
Buckbrush, Yonka
Pins and Catfishtc \l1 " Buckbrush, Yonka Pins and Catfish
Lee and Dennis, his brother, loved to fish
the river. Today they were carrying their catch back to the cabin. The
catfish they caught was big. They had to run a heavy, long stick through
its gills so both could carry the weight of the oversized catch. It was
difficult for the young boys to hold the fish off the ground because it
was a good length longer than they were tall. The boys were only a
little over four feet tall.
Mary, their Mother's new friend, was having
a cup of coffee with Bell, when the two boys came dragging the big fish
into the kitchen.
“Look! Look! Mom! Look at the fish we
caught!” The boys were proud and excited.
“How did you get him out of the water?” Bell
couldn't believe the boys were strong enough to pull the fish ashore.
“Dad helped us, but we were the ones to
catch him.” The boy's pride was all tied up in the mysteries surrounding
an event like this. What it is about catching a big fish that brings
such delight can only be understood by the fisherman himself.
The Jones family was impoverished. Their
circumstances and possessions were few. However, Bell always managed to
keep a camera available. Little did she know she was actually recording
history. On the other hand, it's possible she did know. Her mother was
doing the same thing as she saved all sorts of newspaper clippings,
receipts, letters and other things involved with everyday living. The
little snapshot of the boys holding the giant fish out of the Arkansas
river is still in the family one hundred years later. These were the
only things Lee saved, the old photographs of Osages and their own
family.
Mary, in her own language, was directing the
boys to bring the fish outside. She helped them build a fire. Over this
smoking fire a rack made of strong sticks was then constructed. After
cleaning the fish, the Indian woman, sliced strips of fillets from its
sides. These she hung over the rack, close to the smoking embers of the
fire. This was the way her people preserved food. There was no such
thing as refrigeration at the time. A large amount of meat like this
could feed the family for many meals if it was dried so it could be
stored between herbs and leaves. Mary was repaying the family for their
protection and shelter.
As soon as the fish was secured on the rack,
Mary motioned for the boys to follow her. She led them through the
timber to an open place where a small pond held great numbers of water
lily plants. Mary picked up large branches and with her signing told the
boys to do as she was doing. She whacked the water vigorously all about
the pond where the plants grew. The boys followed her lead even without
knowing the reason for what they were doing.
Mary used her hand to make a gesture of back
and forth slithering.
“She's telling us about the snakes,” Lee
told Dennis.
The young Indian girl waded out into the
middle of the pond after she had twisted and hitched her skirts above
her legs. She turned, smiled and waved to the boys to follow her.
“What is she doing?” Lee was fascinated.
“Whatever it is, she wants us to do it too.”
The boys were busy pulling off their shoes
and rolling up pant legs.
Mary felt around in the mud with her toes.
She reached down into the water to pull out a long water lily root. The
fibrous strand she pulled up had a bulbous tuber on it. She snapped this
off and threw it to the banks at the edge of the pond. Mary and the boys
gathered a sizable amount of the Yonka Pins. When the girl was satisfied
with her collection she took the hem of her skirt and lifted it to
create a kind of pocket for holding and carrying the bulbs home.
While they were walking toward the cabin,
Mary pointed to the low Buckbrush growing on the ground. “Tomorrow. Need
basket.”
Years later, Lee gathered Buckbrush roots.
He collected and cleaned them of their outside shell. The smooth roots
were white and pliable. The man, who was now a father, showed his kids
how to weave the roots in and out, over and under, larger sticks. While
they did this Lee told the children about Mary of the Osages, who knew
these things which were a wonderment to him.
“Dad? How did Gramma Bell cook those Yonka
Pins?” The children were curious to know.
“She sliced them to about half an inch
thick. They have holes in them like Swiss cheese. The roots are simply
boiled with meat. I always thought the Yonka Pins tasted like beans.
Yum. Makes me hungry to think about them.”
Lee's
Aunt Judetc \l1 "Lee's Aunt Jude
Jude was Lee's favorite Aunt, sister to
Joseph, his father. It was true she was tiny---only four feet tall. That
didn't make any difference. The woman was extremely small in body but
large as life with her strong spirit. She rode as well as any man and
she did it with a side saddle. These were the days in the early
twentieth century when women did not wear pants. The side saddle allowed
them to wear the full skirts while they rode. Of course, Jude not only
rode but she trained and groomed unbroken horses.
Jude and her brother stood visiting while
they looked at one of the horses. The animal was a quarter horse. These
were known for their agility and quick movements. Joe preferred the
thoroughbred, but Jude was happier with the short legged, smaller
horses. Their temperament suited her own manner.
“This is the spookiest, little mare, I've
seen in a long time,” Joe told his sister.
Jude defended the pony. “He's quick under me
though. I don't have to worry about him. He moves when I ask him to
work.”
“That quick way always worries me. Anything
can spook him.” Joe was still nervous about his sister riding the
spirited steed.
Jude sensed her brother's concern. “You
don't have to worry about me. I can handle him,” she reassured him.
“I suppose you can.” Joe smiled because he
knew his sister was, indeed, as much as a horsewoman as any of the men
in their family. He was thinking of his younger brother, Little Dee, who
was quite a well known jockey. Jude was about his size. If she had not
been a woman, she would have surely been able to do the same thing.
“Lee has been after me to let him ride,”
Jude informed told him of his son's wish to begin to learn. “Are you
okay with that?”
“I don't suppose, there would be any way I
could stop him? I know it's bound to be in his blood. No, I won't try to
stop him.”
Jude began to work with both the boys, Lee
and Dennis, until they became easy with the equestrian secrets she
possessed. The two learned to loop a rope over the horse's neck gently,
smoothly and accurately. If they were clumsy when they first started it
wasn't long until both were using their hands as gracefully as a ballet
dancer. An onlooker couldn't help but enjoy this way of beautiful motion
without abrupt movements. Jude's nephews began to easily manage and
handle the horses. She taught them to be free from severity or violence
with animals. It was like poetry in motion to watch them. Their natural
personalities, which were kindly and considerate, their aunt brought to
the fore.
Bell was uneasy about this new part of her
son's lives. She expressed her concern to Joe. “I'm not so sure about
the boys spending so much time with Jude. I know she is your sister, but
I'm just a little afraid of how she lives. You would think four children
and a husband would have settled her down.”
“She's all right.” Joe was fond of his
little sister. Nothing she could do would be wrong as far as he was
concerned.
“It isn't just the horse back riding. It is
more than that. I believe she's made acquaintances with some unsavory
folk.” Bell had her standards as far as how she felt a woman should
conduct herself.
“Aw, Bell! She lives a hard life. Pickin'
cotton with those kids and her husband. Cookin', cleanin', trying to git
them to church with very little money for Sunday clothes. You can't deny
her this one pleasure. She loves the animals and she is good with the
boys, too. As far as association, she knows what she is doin'. An Osage
family, with new oil money has hired her to work in their home. She
don't have a choice. Money is tight. You know that. They seem to be fond
of her and she likes them, as well.
Bell understood, this part of Joe's
reasoning. The sewing she did for the Osage people made her aware how
hard they all had to work just to get by.
Joe enjoyed thinking about Jude working for
her Osage family. They lived in a fine home which was bought and paid
for. A new car was a fresh experience for them. Because no one in
the family could drive, Jude was given the job of chauffeur. She loved
driving the flashy sports car which was an open air vehicle built like
the early day styles resembling a horse drawn carriage. Jude thought it
was close to riding a horse drawn carriage.
The home of the Osage family where she
worked was a wonderful place to be. Merchants had brought the most
elegant, expensive furnishings into the town of Fairfax. The Big Hill
Furniture store was loaded with nothing but the best quality. Large
overstuffed chairs and sofas, rich fine wood bedroom furnishings, the
latest appliances of the day---all were there for the Osage families to
purchase. For the dealer it was a way to make money but it was an honest
endeavor. No cheap, flimsy, garish merchandise was available. Anything
there would be a valuable possession.
This is how the house was furnished where
Jude worked and the environment was pleasant with elegant, rich
furnishings. Her employers were generous, easy to please, and kind to
her. She enjoyed working for them. With her income from the job the
industrious little woman was actually able to buy a pretty dress and
shoes for her girls' Sunday church attendance. The boys she clothed with
modern outfits. Lee and Dennis were her favorite nephews and she bought
them new clothing. Everything seemed to be getting better for Jude and
her children.
The tiny woman was now scurrying across the
long living room where she had been dusting. With the dust rag still in
her hand, she dashed to answer the phone. The message she received was
from someone she knew. He certainly was aware of what was happening in
the community. Her folks had called him less than a desirable associate,
but she didn't worry about that. He was always honest with her.
“You'd better get a hold of the sheriff.
Thet bunch is on their way over there. They are going to blow you all to
smithereens!” It was a loud voice that could be heard over the phone.
“I'll hang up and call him.” Jude knew this
was real.
“You cain't call 'em. He's over at Andy's.
They ain't got a phone. You'll have to try to get over there.” With that
last statement the man hung up the telephone.
Jude was out of the house and into the car
in an instant. Andy lived on a road not far from where she was working.
She knew she could get to the sheriff. As the car careened over the
dusty roads, she suddenly saw another car approaching her. It was coming
straight at her, threatening a head on collision. She jerked the
steering wheel hard to the side. The car hit the sandy shoulder of the
road and rolled. Jude was able to jump out of the car, but when she did
the men in the other car were upon her. One of the men jerked a pistol
out of his coat. With one shot he brought the woman to the ground where
she lay until her sister-in-law, Bell, and her youngest nephew, Lee,
arrived. The lawmen had Bell's attention, but Lee ran to the side of his
beloved aunt who was on the ground.
“Son, I want you to look at this.” With that
statement she pulled her blouse back so he could see the bloody gunshot.
“Don't ever tell anything to anybody. My little one's? They'll get my
children and husband next.” Jude swore Lee to silence and he maintained
that until just before he died. He wept tears as he told it some 76
years later.
The home of the Osage family where Jude
worked was dynamited with the
Indian
family in it. That was the beginning of the terrible murders of the
Osage people.
Jude died and was buried. It was never
reported that she had been shot and killed by the same people who
dynamited the home.
Lee's Story, The
Last Sun Dancetc \l1 "Lee's Story, The Last Sun Dance
“Joe, I don't know whether you should drag
these boys out there into deep timber to watch the Sun Dance.” Bell knew
the ceremony had been banned in 1904 by the Federal government. The
ritual of self-mutilation was not part of the Christian teachings, they
said.
“It won't hurt nothing. It will be somethin'
they can tell their children.” Joe and his sons were the last of the few
white men who were invited to the very sacred event which was held only
once a year. This makes me wonder about Joe's bloodline, too. The Osage
are very true to their own laws regarding not having any other tribe or
nationality present at secret societies.
“You had better take some of this
Citronella. The mosquitoes will carry you all away if you don't.” Bell
always kept a bottle of the smelly natural repellant handy.
“Aw, Mama! Do we have to? I hate that
stuff,” Lee and Dennis were both complaining.
“Yes, you must have it. I don't care whether
you like the smell or not. It works. You don't need bites that might get
infected.” Bell didn't back down from her decision for the boys to
protect themselves from the little blood sucking menace.
All the lowlands around Ralston had heavy
undergrowth. The land was rich from the alluvial deposits of the
Arkansas River which was wonderful if anyone wanted a garden. These were
the good living conditions that had saved them from the dust bowl
drought. Oklahomans migrated en masse to California, but Joe and his
family came to this rich green place instead. The drawback was that
during rainy seasons any standing water was a breeding place for the
blood sucking, mosquitoes. It wasn't the little insect that gave Bell
misgivings tonight. It was the fact that she knew the federal government
wasn't going to allow this Sundance ceremony to continue. Whatever means
the federals had to use is what they would do to eventually
completely stop this part of the Osage's religion. She felt it was risky
for Joe and her children to be at this possibly last Sundance.
“There will be smudges burning,” Joe told
Bell as he tried to calm her feelings.
“I hope they don't burn any poison ivy in
them.” Bell wasn't going to be so easily placated.
“Oh for heaven's sake, Bell. You know better
than that. The Indians would never be that careless.” Joe spoke to his
wife with only a little impatience.
Joe and his boys followed the road which was
close to the river all the way to Fairfax. The next little settlement of
Grey Horse was their destination.
Whether it was the trauma of watching the
primitive ceremony or whether he was just too young to recall the event
it didn't remain clear in Lee's memory. When he was older, about the
only thing he could remember was how the skin below the collar bone was
pulled up and slashed. In this cut they inserted and threaded a sharp
stick holding a wet, rawhide strand that was tied with a knot. If it
took as many as four days for the dancer to pull the rawhide through the
skin it was always done. The thong had been tied to a pole standing in
the center of the arena. The weight of the man's body leaning back away
from the center stake as he danced around it was how he pulled the strip
of rawhide through his skin.
Historians and anthropologists have written
explanations for the ritual. They believed it was a symbol of re-birth
to the Native American. The self-sacrifice of one's only possession,
their body, was all they had to give to their God. This could be true
because there were ancient ritualistic sacrifices to the ancient God of
Baal reaching back to the fertile crescent when extreme suffering was a
ritual having to do with those who were burned in a fire. These things
were practiced as a fear tactic so the priest of ancient times could
keep their people in submission. Fear is a terrible tool and this was
what Lee probably was seeing acted out for the first time.
The next morning found Lee clinging to his
mother while she worked in her kitchen.
“I didn't like that Sundance,” Lee spoke in
a low tone to Bell.
“You aren't on your own in that. I really
don't like it,” the mother agreed with her son, but she was curious.
“What did they do?”
Lee was too much of a child to understand
the difficult worship involved with the custom. All he could see were
the very stark, realities of the ceremony. Later he would read in his
voracious way about ancient religions. Although he never came to an
agreement with it, there was more of an understanding about why they
worshiped as they did. At the moment, as a child, he had no intellectual
hold on the activities of the Osages as they practiced this ancient
traditions. This was a practice of the Ponca and the Sioux as well.
“There were these rawhide thongs they ran
through that skin on their chest. It seemed like they were in a trance.
When the thongs finally pulled through the skin the dancer dropped right
where they were. Other people had to come, pick them up and carry them
off. It gave me chills and it scared me.” There was no cognizance on
Lee's part for the meaning or reason of it. Bell had already taught him,
Christ was the final sacrifice.
Cheyenne Moontc \l1 "Cheyenne Moon
Bell, was of the Collins family. They had
challenged adversity for years. In fact, one of the Collins was in the
Revolutionary War. The children were informed of their Scot and Irish
blood. They claimed Michael Collins of Ireland and even named their
children “Michael.” Circumstances never stopped them from making a
joyful life. This Collin's way and culture had to be what brought Lee
through the hard times of early day difficulties. The family fought for
each other in such quiet ways even a close observer would have to be
alert to see the things they did to protect one another. They made
supreme sacrifice too, but they were living offerings of actions.
Suffering through the toil of learning to play instruments was done with
not a look behind. After all, what else could lighten the loved one's
grief of aching, hurting lives, like dancing. What if their fingers were
calloused from the strings of the instrument, it was all for the needed
breaks and pleasure of their loved ones. Any child who was bent to a
talent was encouraged in a way to make them understand what they were
doing was altogether important and needed.
Years later one of the Collinses joked about Steinbeck's
Grapes of Wrath. “In California they did have grapes. We didn't even
have grapes.” And then the room would ring with laughter. Someone else
might say, “Grapes? What are grapes?” More laughter would follow.
Lee, at the moment, wasn't feeling like he
could cope with the latest woes to come upon the family. Bell's sister
and her family had run from around Ft. Worth, Texas. They were
hard-working, but things were not going that well economically where
they had been living. They had other problems, too. Their total family
moved after Bell told them about the verdant, rich grounds along the
Arkansas River. Winter was not a good time to move but they had no
choice. The children needed food and medical care; They needed a warm
place to stay. The cabin was so small that there was only room for a
few, or many, if they were packed in tight. Some of the children had to
be in bed because of their sickness. Lee felt so cramped and miserable
he could only find relief by getting out of the tight space.
His Collins blood must have dictated to him
because he was able to find a way to escape. The sand banks of the river
offered a place of refuge for him. With a shovel he dug back into the
sand to create a snug retreat. He was careful not to dig too far back or
make the space deep. He didn't want to create a trap for himself should
it crumble. A short distance in the front of his tight little shelter he
built a small fire. With a book, warmth and daylight, he had all the
comforts of home. When he tired of reading he put on his ice skates and
followed the long stretches of frozen river. The tributary was on the
edge of many of the Osage homes. It was at this time he learned so much
about their culture. Lee had no prejudice; after all, his own
grandfather, Nathaniel Stewart Collins, was dark with Indian blood.
Jesse Lee Collins, Nathan's father, was said to wear braids. His
education was so rich and he was truly blessed, in spite of the
challenges his family was having to live through.
The evening's were when the elders told
stories about what was and what had happened in their life.
“We always hated to see a full moon. I'm
telling you it was a bad time when that old Cheyenne moon came around.”
“Why did you call it a Cheyenne Moon?” Lee
was ever curious.
“Well, Son, let me tell you about that.” Lee
knew another story was forth coming.
“That old-moon? It wuz the brightest when
them Cheyenne made their raids. The moonlight made it possible for them
to see where the livestock wuz or anything else they wanted. A night
like that and the Hobson men all got together with rifles. They run them
Cheyenne into a canyon. There wuz a heavy, frog stranglin' rain, thet
come up. Thet water come up so fast them Cheyenne had to git out of the
flash flood. As they come out, the Hobsons picked them off, one at a
time. I don't know how many they got. Well, you know after that they
warn't no stoppin' them Indians. They hated us. Thet is why ever time a
full moon came up we all knew it would be a desperate sit che ation, and
thet is why we called it a Cheyenne Moon.”
The boy had time to reflect on the story. He
thought about his friends, who were Osages. He wondered why there was
such a difference in the way this man, his relative, felt about the
Cheyenne and how Lee's opinion of the Osage was so unlike his. This may
have been the first inkling the boy had of racial questions and the ill
handling of it.
“I'll have to ask Mary about this,” Lee
silently thought to himself before he dropped off to sleep.
There never were questions asked though.
They had too many things to do. In the winter they ice skated up and
down the miles of the frozen river, he read everything he could find
even to the newspapers, and Lee helped his mother with her quilt making
or other craft projects. In the summer there was horseback riding, his
music, helping with chores and running the timber with his American
Indian friends. This gave him no time to even think about a Cheyenne
Moon.
Lee's Gramma Collins of the
Hunters, Brewerstc \l1 "Lee's Gramma Collins of the Hunters, Brewers
“Lee Otis! Lee Otis!” Gramma Elizabeth Ann
Collins called to the grandson who was forever the dreamer, often busy
with his own pursuits.
“Yew git yerself in here, and I mean at this
very minute. I'm tired foolin' aroun' waitin' on yew. Yer Grandsir
brought in these possum grapes and yew are ah gonna hep me with 'em,”
Gramma Collins was born in Kentucky and she spoke with an Elizabethan
dialect. She was a stern taskmaster of a lady. Some of her grandchildren
loved her and said she was such a gentle person, while others feared her
and said she had caused them to get many a whippin'. Lee was one of her
favorites and she doted on him. The wine making secrets she was about to
pass down to him from the Brewer family would prove to be a source of
much discussion and apprehension between family branches as they stood
back to observe what Lee could do with his brewing skills.
Gramma Collins did not die until 1926, and
at that time Lee was twenty-four years old. He had been gifted with a
great amount of the knowledge his grandmother, Elizabeth possessed which
she had, no doubt, learned from the Hunters and the Brewers. Those
families reached back into the ancient cultures of the European. Their
secrets for living were endless.
“Now Lee!” Gramma had a talent of
sandwiching her strong Christian beliefs in between her teaching of the
more secular things. “This is a secret of wine makin' passed on down
from the Brewers. They are the Brewers of Kentucky. It is a grand old
history they have. Providing spirits for those who are heavy at heart
are-ah gift from thet man upstairs. He is The Man, and he is The One.”
Some today quarrel with that belief regarding gender, but at the time it
wasn't up for discussion.
Years later, when Lee spoke of “The Man,”
his children knew without question that he meant “The Man Upstairs.”
“Yew must take an oath of sobriety tah do
this. I think yew are the one tah do it. Yew cain't be a drunk and work
with the spirits.”
So on and on it went. Elderberries growing
wild were picked and turned into the most delectable wine. Of course,
there was watermelon wine, dandelion wine, and even grape wine. When
Lee's daughter, many years later showed the same talent, her husband
stopped her because he said “we are having too many friends all of a
sudden.”
Gramma Collins knew of the hard liquors too.
This was where Lee learned to build a “still” much as the hill people of
Kentucky did. Distilling alcohol to drink was not a problem for Lee. He
learned to precisely watch for the correct bead, clarity and proof.
There was never prohibition with the Jones family, but in actuality; It
was the Collin's people who gave them this gift.
Many a kitchen sweat with dancing and
moderate imbibing of the spirits held back the somber, grey days of the
depression. Their belief allowed them the joy of liquor. However, the
rule was moderation. The best way to cut off association was to one time
overindulge. This would, for sure, stop any future invitations one might
have as far as being allowed to come to the next social. No one wanted
to be left out so everyone obeyed the unwritten rule. Those were the
days when an event might be planned every six months. It took money
saved to buy the sugar, arrange for the country band to play, and any
other plans to be made for entertaining great numbers of people. No one
worried about economic lows while they were enjoying themselves around
the tables of their friend's kitchens. Within the privacy of their own
family, the music-making never stopped. It was a way of life and they
didn't need the spirits for these family gatherings.
The old family Bible Elizabeth Ann read so
often fell open to her favorite places when in the hands of her great
granddaughter so many years later.
“I wonder why Gramma Elizabeth Ann pressed
these particular flowers between the pages of this Bible?” Her
granddaughter asked one of Elizabeth's aging relatives.
“Those were saved in the Bible after Gramma
had taken them from the casket of someone she knew. They were from a
funeral. I suppose she knew each and every flower and from whose casket
she had picked it.”
“How sad.” Her great granddaughter felt a
sudden tie to the woman she knew only through stories. There were verses
in the Bible marked and here was a prophetic reading made for each
grandchild's future. One verse told how, “Lee will cause great changes
in high places with mighty men.”
“Well, our Dad Lee did that. In so many ways
he made us think,” but how did Gramma Elizabeth know that? There was
probably no mystery involved. Any grandmother can advise about how well
they know their grandchildren's personalities.
War Raged
Around Joetc \l1 "War Raged Around Joe
In 1914 Lee was twelve years old. His
brother Dennis was born in 1900. Dennis always liked to say he was the
same age as the 20th century. Lee was two years younger than
the century.
This was the year for World War One when war
raged at international levels. Local, lesser battles dealing with
mundane things around them made it necessary for the Collinses, Joneses,
and Hobsons to live a cautious life. The efforts for unsavory elements
in their wish to capture Osage oil money was much more real than the
World War for their families. Most people were willing to simply enjoy
the fruits of a better economic environment, but there were those who
wanted the whole pie.
(See clipping Bellzona, Lee Mother saved):
http://www.electricscotland.com/history/america/donna/picturebook/3839.htm
One night the rinkity tink notes of the
player piano in the Blue Moon Tavern at Ralston called to Joe. Unlike
the Collinses who maintained their sobriety and strong Christian ethic,
the defeated man, had succumbed at this point in his life to the
spirits. When he and Bell lost the sweetest of the children, little
Inis, something in his will to live was shattered. The dark, womb-like
taverns gave him more comfort than the bright lights of the miserable
world in which he now lived. Too much sorrow and suffering were resting
on his shoulders. There was the sister in Bartlesville who died a
terrible death; her daughter, Effie, died six months later, Joe's
grandfather, grandmother, Uncle Seborn, sister Jude, and numerous
cousins were lost to the Indian-White cold war, and, now, the beautiful
little Inis was gone. She was as blond and beautiful as a Celtic
princess. Her blue eyes had slowly faded and closed while he and his
wife held her. Bell had written letters to her daughter, Gertrude,
telling of how she didn't think she could watch the child slowly die.
Measles had weakened Inis and she could never recover.
Joe sat drinking his way to being
anaesthetized and separate from his grief while in the bars catering to
some of the Osage people. We have to wonder, what was his tie with the
Osages. Did he remember the time his father battled the ranchers
intruding into the circle of the Osage encampment, or was it something
more? Why did he own land in the very midst of their allotments? Why
were they so protective of his family? Was all this the reason he was
more comfortable with the Osage than with anyone else.
Tonight in the dimly lit bar he was watching
the two men who were with Grace Snake Hide. She was a beautiful young
Osage woman who was a recipient of oil royalties. Joe knew of the
circumstances around her. He was well aware these men had been hired by
her family as bodyguards for the young unmarried woman. For all
appearances they were simply accompanying her and nothing else.
See:
http://www.electricscotland.com/history/america/donna/picturebook/3233.htm
Click on picture to enlarge.
“Ah'm gonna git me one of them rich Osage
women.” A drunken young man sat at the bar next to Joe and babbled. “Did
jah see thet good lookin' one over thar?”
“I wouldn't mess with her,” Joe tried to
warn the man.
“Hell, why not? She's rich and she ain't bad
lookin' neither.” The liquor had given the man false bravery.
As the foolish young man swaggered over to
where the woman and the two men were sitting, Joe left his place at the
bar. It was too close to the circle of where the up-coming action might
take place.
“Hey Squaw!” the drunk rudely called out to
the young Indian woman.
Her companions didn't move one extra muscle
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