Calamity in a Tent

First Dwelling of Edmund Gates, Sr. in the Bend

So many who came to the rolling hills and big bluestem grass of the Osage, found it beckoned them to stay. Such was the case of my great-grandparents, Bob and Nettie Black as well as my paternal grandfather, Edmund Gates, Sr. His permanent transplanting from the sunflower state of Kansas took place in the first decade of the 20^th century.

            Around 1910, Robert and Nettie Black were living on the Deal place with their two children, Tommy aged 3 and Ruby aged 1 along with Nettie’s daughters, Mamie Irene Tripp, my grandmother, who was 15 years old and Cora Belle aged 12. (For more about my great-grandmother's second marriage, see the blog post of October 6 entitled The Marriage of Robert and Nettie Black. To learn more about Cora and Grandma’s father, see the blog post of September 8 entitled One of the Hardest Things for a Little Girl to Do.) Nettie, my great-grandmother, was working for Mrs. Deal, the wife of an original allottee of Osage descent, Sherman Deal. The home on the Deal land was a spacious two-story structure.



Edna & Ruby Black with their brother Tommy standing behind them. Edna was not mentioned in the above paragraph since she was not born until 1912.

             Edmund, Sr. was living in a tent in Osage County, apparently working as a hired hand on the Deal place as well. The Deal place was located a mile north and west of where Edmund Gates, Jr. presently lives in the Big Bend community west of Ralston. 
           A blustery thunderstorm blew up one night, as they so often do in Oklahoma. My grandpa’s tent was blown down by the strong wind during the storm. Bob Black worried when he looked out and saw the collapsed tent. With concern filling his thoughts, he hurried out to check on Grandpa. How surprised he was to find my grandpa, Edmund Gates, Sr. dry, unharmed, and amazingly…still asleep!

1908 Plat Map of a portion of the Big Bend with Sherman Deal's
land highlighted in pink - courtesy of Osage Tribal Museum

        This plat map of the section of the Big Bend in reference in this blog post was provided courtesy of Lou W. Brock, senior researcher at the Osage Tribal Museum in Pawhuska, Oklahoma. According to Dad’s recollection, the upper left section of Sherman Deal’s portion of land in the Big Bend was the location of the land on which Edmund Gates, Sr.’s tent was pitched.

An interesting historical fact is connected with Osage land ownership. As with many Native American groups, the Osages held their land in common instead of having individual ownership. However, the Osage Allotment Act of 1906 divided the land equally among the 2,229 registered Osages, giving each allottee 657 acres as well as a headright, a share of the quarterly earnings of the mineral income of the Osages.* The allotment would have been how Mr. Deal acquired his place. Sherman Deal and his mother, Julia Ann Revard Dennison Deal were both original Osage allotees. Sadly, she died in 1912, and her son Sherman died in 1918. In fact, my father refers to the place as the Francis Deal place. Francis was only 8 years old when his father died. Francis Deal lived to the age of 36 years.

*Each quarter of 1910 a headright paid out $302.00 which would be valued at $7,586.61 in the economy of 2013.(taken from Osage Headright Payments (Annual) Inflation Ranking - 2013)

I am greatly indebted to Lou Brock of the Osage Tribal Museum for his expertise and willingness to assist me in validating Dad's recollection. The treasure trove of photographs of many of the original Osage allotees makes the Osage Tribal Museum at 819 Grandview Avenue in Pawhuska, Oklahoma, a must-stop tour destination for all history lovers. It was part of Dad's requested 85th birthday excursion in 2004. This valuable photographic collection is also accessible at the Osage Tribal Museum's web site.


Solving a Photographic Century-Old Cold Case

The Vintage Postcard Mystery

            My inquisitive mind struggles with finding unidentified old photographs. When my father received a wicker basket with photographs from his mother’s home, at least one-third of the pictures he was given were unidentified. My heart sank since I prize a photograph because it can capture the essence of a person. Knowing about people who came before us can give meaning and understanding to our own lives. So discovering the names of people in those photographs became almost  obsessive to me.

            I picked the photograph postcard shown below from the basket. The young girl in the photograph captured my attention. She had eyes that appeared sensitive and kind to me. Flipping over the never-mailed postcard, I was surprised to see scrawled with pencil in cursive writing the words:

To Mamie  

From Theda

A careful examination of the clothes, furniture, and setting of the photograph helped me deduce to which Mamie this was given. Based on the setting, it had to be my grandmother, Mamie Irene Tripp Gates, not my aunt, Mamie Marie Gates Judkins Tice. In my mind, I was silently asking, “Grandma, who is Theda?”

            Later, I was thumbing through some of Grandma's saved yellowed newspaper clippings primarily about my father’s World War II experiences, when a fortunate happening occurred--I found a tiny 2” X 3” clipping that was a death notice of Theda Hogan. Wow! How many people did I know with the name Theda? I wagered that Grandma didn’t know many individuals named Theda either.

            My research showed Theda Hogan had been born in Burbank, Oklahoma in 1899, and had died in California on January 20, 1979. More information…but no explanation of her connection with Grandma.

             After many years of wondering, I began researching for the second blog post in September of last year. I discovered a family history online that mentioned Grandma’s father, Rufus Tripp. (See Blog Post of September 8, 2013, entitled One of the Hardest Things for a Little Girl to Do.) Lo and behold, like a needle in a haystack, there was a brief mention of a one-year old girl named Theda in a 1900 United States Federal Census report taken in Chautauqua County, Kansas.

              Just like a bloodhound with a mere sniff, I began meticulously reading this 1900 census report. My sleuthing revealed Theda’s father was Charley Drake.  As I investigated further, I untangled the thread connecting my grandma and Theda. Charley Drake and Rufus Tripp, Grandma’s father, shared the same mother, Elizabeth Wood Tripp Drake. Her first husband, Horace Tripp was the father of Rufus Tripp who was the father of Mamie. (An interesting sidenote- Elizabeth’s second husband, Theda's grandfather, just happened to be twelve years younger than she was.)  Her second husband was Isaac Drake the father of Charley Drake who was Theda’s daddy. Mystery solved. Grandma and Theda were cousins on their fathers’ side.

                Seeking a confirmation that the Theda Drake that was the one-year-old in the 1900 U.S. census was the same Theda Hogan in the obituary clipped from the newspaper by Grandma, I did an internet search with the name Theda Drake Hogan. Was I ever surprised to find she had graduated from Fairfax High School in 1919, so I found her listed with all three names on the Fairfax Alumni website!

                Theda was born in 1899, and Mamie was born in 1895. Just four years separated these two cousins, but some great bonds must have drawn them to each other. My father’s oldest sister Ella Edith Gates Bledsoe told me at the last Gates Family reunion she attended prior to her death that her mother, Mamie Gates had only wanted to make music and draw, but ended up having a dozen children and devoted her life to them. Maybe she shared that love of music and art with Theda. My grandmother was a sensitive, creative person. I can only speculate how imaginative these two little girls were in their play whenever they visited each other.
              Photographs were rare in the early 1900s. Theda must have cherished her cousin, my grandmother, Mamie Irene Tripp Gates, since she gave her the treasured photographic postcard, and Grandmother obviously cared deeply for Theda because she kept it for her 92 years.

                What fun and satisfaction to solve this vintage photograph mystery! Now if I can have this kind of success with the myriad of other mystery family photos from days gone by.

Theda and Guy Drake as seen on the mystery photographic postcard. Final

research for this blog ended with identifying the little boy on the postcard as
Guy Drake, Theda's younger brother. He was listed on the 1910 U. S. Census
as being five years old. Theda was eleven years old in this same census.

Mamie Irene Tripp as a young girl. As a pianist, I would love to have inherited
her long fingers!

Living the Shamrock Life

How to Live the Shamrock Life All Year Round Not Just on St. Patrick’s Day

             On March 2, we marked two years since Dad’s stroke. The five of us in our family saw a change in our lives as Dad began his path to stroke recovery.
            Charlotte Hutchens, our dear friend and neighbor to my parents, dropped by my parents’ home just days after Dad came home. She and her husband had provided much-needed support to us. Now she came bearing a small flowerpot with a shamrock in it. I already knew the account of Saint Patrick using the shamrock to teach the Irish people of the trinity of the scriptures – God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit – three in one. However, this little plant came to mean so much more than even that powerful incident in Saint Patrick’s history. What an encouragement and teacher this little plant has been to us who are caregivers for my father!
          I remember the first morning I awakened and was aware of the shamrock plant. It was as if the little leaf clusters were stretching their arms welcoming the morning and praising the Lord. I immediately recalled the scripture in Psalm 118:24 This is the day the Lord has made; We will rejoice and be glad in it. As I discussed with my sister my reaction to the little shamrock plant on the occasional table near where we took turns sleeping near Dad, she shared that each morning it was as if the tiny plant was saying, “This is a new day. You’re refreshed and ready to begin.”
          As we chatted, we remarked to each other how as we retired for the evening, the same little leaf clusters closed their arms. My sister stated that when she saw the shamrock plant in the evening, she felt like it was saying, “The day is over with its stress and work, so now close your eyes, let it all go, and rest.” One of my father’s favorite scriptures came to mind as I viewed the tiny plant. Dad loved to quote the verse from Ecclesiastes 5:12, The sleep of the laboring man is sweet. Only the Lord knew the extent of the work we were doing to hasten our father’s recovery.
          Now as we lie down near Dad’s bed, we draw strength from the visual reminder of the plant that no matter how hectic and chaotic the day may have seemed, we should recline, give our worries to the Lord, and close our eyes and rest our worn and weary bodies. David, the beloved psalmist, wrote in Psalm 4:8, I will both lie down in peace and sleep;  For You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety. We realized God is so mindful of Dad’s situation as well as ours.  He has all of our lives in His control. We can relax and rest in His peace. 
           What a powerful, constant encouragement that little shamrock is whether day or night! Recently I overheard a visitor commenting on the shamrock plant to Mother. Mother explained how the plant has encouraged us. Then with a chuckle, she said, “But I don’t always live the shamrock life.”


The shamrock plant given to Mother by
Charlotte Hutchens as it looks during the day.

           None of us always live the shamrock life, but it is definitely a worthwhile aim and reaps immeasurable benefits all year long, not just on St. Patrick’s Day.


The shamrock plant at night.

        


The Legacy

On March 13, my family will be remembering that my maternal grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith was born on that date in 1894. It prompted me to pull out and revise a piece I had written several years ago.

A Legacy Left For Our Family

                  Grandpa was one of the most supportive, encouraging people I ever knew. He thought my sister and I were wonderful musicians even though we practiced on a horribly out-of-tune piano, and his well-trained musical ear was tortured. Although he had only been able to attend school through the fourth grade, he was the adult in our family who consistently insisted my sister and I go to college. With his limited formal education one might think Grandpa would shy away from reading, but nothing could be farther from the truth. With Bible, lesson commentary, and red pencil in hand, he began on Sunday afternoon preparing his Sunday School lesson for the following Sunday. Grandpa could daily be seen in his chair with his Bible and trusty red pencil. 
        Whenever the hymn “In Loving-Kindness Jesus Came” is sung or played, my mind returns to a much earlier time in my life. I was in the lower elementary grades in school. My family was attending a revival at the little country church where we regularly worshiped. Saturday night near the close of the revival was always considered “testimony night” in those days of yesteryear. It was a time to praise the Lord for what He had done in the lives of parishioners during the two weeks of revival meetings.
       My grandfather rose to his feet and began to speak. As a congregation we had just finished singing “In Loving-Kindness Jesus Came” or as we referred to it then “He Lifted Me.” Grandpa began to recount how desperately “sinking” he was in his sins and how the Lord had lifted him to a new way of living. He quoted from Psalm 40:2 in the original King James Version saying, “He brought me up out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my foot upon a rock, and established my goings.” 
      I later learned from my mother that Grandpa was in his mid thirties when he trusted Jesus as his Savior and Lord. Grandmother and the tiny congregation at the little rural community church fasted and prayed for his salvation. Grandmother following the death of her father had only recently become a Christian. After his salvation, Grandfather, a gifted fiddler, never played again since he associated the instrument so closely with his old lifestyle. We often questioned this decision, because he could have used this talent for the Lord: but nevertheless, it was his conviction. Also, he had been a talented baseball pitcher with an opportunity to play in the American League, but he never played again after his conversion since most games were played on Sunday. Sunday for him was the Lord’s Day, a day of worship.
       At Grandpa’s funeral, I recall the word “legacy” being used. Grandpa did not bequeath to our family riches or great holdings, but he left us a rich legacy of faith and commitment to the Lord that would stand the test of time and endure throughout all eternity.         
       Lord, may we, as a family, enrich others’ lives daily and further glorify You by our unwavering obedience to Your commands from Your Word as Grandpa did. May we leave behind as rich and lasting a legacy as he did.

Calvin Callcayah Smith in the early 1920s.

Not Much of a Wedding...

Not Much of a Wedding by Today’s Standards

                Here’s a stat you may not know. According to the site Weddingstats.org, in 2014, the average cost of a wedding in the United States will cost between $27,000 and $29,000. The honeymoon is an add-on!
                On March 4, my parents will celebrate their 66^th wedding anniversary. They both will tell you they have had a blessed marriage leading to a happy life of contentment together. Let’s be honest, though. They really didn’t have much of a wedding.

                Mother and Dad had their first "date" when she agreed to meet him at the carnival of the Osage County Fair in Pawhuska. She was still in high school. He was five years older than she was so was already out of school. Dad arrived late. That didn't stop Mother because she loved amusement rides. Since she had time on her hands, she rode with several other guys who asked her to ride. In one sense, that was just fine with Dad. Even though he would later fly twenty-five missions over enemy territory in Europe, he wasn't as wild about amusement rides as Mother.
                   They wrote to each other during his service in World War II beginning in 1941 through 1945. Dad remained in the Air Force Reserves as a technical sergeant. Mother had graduated from high school in 1943, but she refused to marry him as long as he was connected in any way with the military. He fulfilled his commitment in the Air Force Reserves in early 1948.
                Back to the wedding…  Not many things were planned except perhaps their blood tests. They had their blood tests at Dr. Gibson’s office in Ponca City a few weeks prior to their wedding ceremony.
                Clothes were not a major expense nor did selecting them take much time. Dad had help from his sisters Ella and Mary when buying clothes after his discharge in 1945. His sisters helped him buy clothes with his mustering out pay. Actually, his sisters both had quite a sense of style and encouraged him to select a well-made suit. In his mind, why waste a good suit?
                Mother chose a gray with white stripe suit with a matching three-quarter length coat. She spent less than $50 on her three-piece ensemble. She accentuated with a white silk scarf.
                On their way to Tulsa, they swung by Pawnee to see Ernest Rice who was hospitalized at the Pawnee Muncipal Hospital. My grandmother, Gladys Smith was staying with him. Grandmother often stayed with sick relatives since she was a trained nurse. Ernest was her brother-in-law, married to her oldest sister Daisy Dean Rainey Rice. Both my parents recall Ernest congratulating them even though he was ill. Other than Mother’s parents, Ernest Rice was the only one who actually knew they were getting married.
                Again planning was not their strong suit in those days. They thought they could get a marriage license in Pawnee at the courthouse. Little did they know until they were told the license must be bought in the county where the wedding ceremony would be performed.
                They put the pedal to the metal and arrived at the Tulsa County Courthouse at 4:55 p.m. Neither of them admits to running up the courthouse steps. They made it just in the nick of time to get the marriage license for $2.00.
                Dad pulled into a flower shop in Tulsa and ordered a gardenia corsage. They waited while the florist made the corsage for under $5.00. Mother still comments on its wonderful fragrance.
                Dad had thought and planned for Mother’s ring. She had selected it at Drake’s Jewelry Store in Ponca City. It was a wedding set valued at $234 which would be around $2,270 in 2014. Mother’s parents thought the purchase of Mother’s wedding ring set was extravagant, and the money should have been saved for actually living after the wedding.
                With marriage license in hand, they arrived at Rev. O. W. Webb’s office at his church, Beams of Light Tabernacle on Harvard Avenue in Tulsa to be married. Mother and Dad admired the way Rev. Webb provided for a group of around ten children in a beautifully furnished home. In fact, my parents financially supported this children's home. My parents had given no thought to the need for witnesses. One of the witnesses was the pastor’s secretary. A service was to be held that evening. So the other witness appeared to be someone who arrived a little early for church. Boy! Was that person in for a surprise when grabbed to act as a witness for a wedding in the pastor’s study!
                Dad did have reservations at the Mayo Hotel in Tulsa for their wedding night. Mother allowed Dad to plan the honeymoon. He planned for them to go to Dallas. Much to Mother’s horror now, Dad saw no problem with dropping by his sister Ella’s home unannounced and getting to stay a free night with her and Harry, her husband.
                The next day they drove to Dallas arriving after dark. Dad had so wanted them to stay at the Baker Hotel, but no GPS in 1948, and he was unable to locate it. They found cottages to rent for the night, checked in, and were taken to to their cottage. Mother wasn’t born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she deemed the room to be unsafe and unsatisfactory since there was no way to lock the door. To no one’s surprise, Dad didn’t get his money returned. Finally, Mother and Dad checked into Hotel Jefferson a little before midnight and stayed the duration of their honeymoon there.

                Back to the wedding…It really wasn’t much of a wedding – no fancy clothes, a mere corsage for flowers, no music, no guests, no photographer. But wow! Most people who know them would agree they have had a fantastic marriage of mutual respect, built on an unshakeable faith in the Lord enabling them to have strong trust in each other. Their advice…Don’t save up for the wedding, instead invest all you have – emotionally, financially, spiritually, mentally in the marriage. The returns are limitless.

This is considered my parents' wedding portrait.

It was taken on March 4, 1951, their third

wedding anniversary. When my sister and I

asked about their wedding pictures, they pointed

to this one.

My parents posing for their 50th wedding

anniversary portrait by Jerry James.

Bernyce and Edmund Gates, Jr.
for their 60th wedding anniversary.
 The portrait was taken by Shontel.