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North Texas Star

Odds and Ends


Samuel Lewis Williams
Zachariah E. Coombes
Encounter With The
October 2011
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 2
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October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 3
(This is Part 4 in a series of articles based on a daily
diary kept by Zachariah Ellis Coombes, school teacher at
the Brazos Indian Reservation in Young County, Texas,
between Oct. 7, 1858, and April 27, 1859.)
D
uring mid-November 1858, Zachariah and his
wife went about their daily routine of accom-
modating guests and travelers to the Brazos
agency and teaching Indian children at the school.
Zachariah remained optimistic about the progress his stu-
dents were making despite the daunting task of trying to
educate children in such a remote setting on the Texas
frontier. Late on the evening of Nov. 17, Col. Middleton
T. Johnson and H.K. Valentine arrived from Fort Belknap
requiring Elizabeth to prepare a separate supper especial-
ly for them. They left the following morning to return
home and Captain Ross departed for Waco. Just before
daylight it began snowing and by mid-afternoon, 3 inches
had fallen.
On Saturday Nov. 20, snow covered the countryside,
but by mid-afternoon most had melted off. The first
chore of the day was getting the beef allotment which
was located in a far pen. Apparently there were several
pens into which cattle were brought and held for distribu-
tion to the Indians and government employees. Most of
the livestock were in poor condition and three were not
fit to be eaten. Five black and white spotted hogs were
killed and brought in by Dr. Stern and Mr. Dyche,
although it as not clear who they had belonged to. That
night Zachariah noted in his diary that the whole agen-
cy except myself were on a glorious drunk and as usual
gambled all night and from what I can learn some of
them came very near fighting.
Zachariah continued his teaching duties at the agency
school through Nov. 29, and on the following day he and
Elizabeth departed on the long trip back to Dallas to visit
friends and family. They arrived there on Dec. 3 and
stayed until the 16th when they began a tiresome and
muddy trip back to the agency. While they were absent
from the agency, tragedy struck when on Dec. 27, seven
reservation Indians were massacred while on an autho-
rized hunting trip in Palo Pinto County by a group of
men from Erath County.
Choctaw Tom and a group of 17 Caddo and Anadarko
Indians had received permission from Captain Ross to
hunt off-reservation to supply their families with meat
and furs for the winter. While camped at Indian Hole on
Elm Creek, located 7 miles north-northeast of the fledg-
ling town of Palo Pinto, a mob of 20 men from Erath
County attacked the camp as the Indians slept, killing
four men, three women and wounding six others. The
raid was led by Peter Garland, a central figure in the anti-
Indian movement sweeping the area. Choctaw Tom had
left the camp earlier to return to the Brazos Reserve with
a wagon of game meat and skins. His wife, Cheatis
Chouta, was one of the victims. The son of the founder
of Stephenville, Texas, 17-year-old Samuel W. Stephens,
was the only white casualty who may been killed by
friendly fire during the attack.
With tensions mounting against all Indians located on
the reserves, Coombes noted in his diary that acting
agent Dr. J.C. Stern sent for Captain Palmer at Fort
Belknap who brought a detachment of 36 troops to the
Brazos Reserve to protect the Indians and government
employees there from possible attack. Thankfully, the
attack did not materialize. All Indians at the reserve were
now at the agency and becoming quite hostile over the
Choctaw Tom incident.
The year 1858 was drawing to a close and there were
mounting indications that the new year would likely
bring more hostilities against the Indians on the reserves.
Coombes and his family were now in a precarious situa-
tion with an uncertain future, but he remained optimistic.
He wrote, we hope to begin anew and to progress some
in good works, in wealth, and in all the ennobling feel-
ings which pervade the heart of intelligent rational
human beings. May God in his goodyness smile on us
and assist us to advance onward in all things pertaining
to here and hereafter.
Despite the ongoing conflict between the Indians at the
reserves and the local anti-Indian element, Zachariah and
Elizabeth settled back into the chores and duties at the
Brazos Reserve after their brief trip to Dallas. After din-
ner on Jan. 1, 1859, Zachariah and his friend Owens
went hunting and were successful in killing six small
birds. Mr. Fitts and Mr. Lazenby left to go below
Golconda (Palo Pinto) to find out who were the instiga-
tors of the recent murders of the Indians from the reserve.
Coombes speculated that it was unlikely any of the per-
petrators of the incident would ever be brought to justice;
he was right.
On Jan. 2, 1859, Zachariahs father arrived from Dallas
at the Brazos Reserve with Samuel Church. Church
would later serve under Texas Frontier Regiment Capt.
J.J. Cureton on an expedition in 1860 to help recover
horses stolen in Parker and Palo Pinto counties by
Indians. During that trip white captive Cynthia Ann
Parker was recaptured from the Comanches near the
Pease River. Church brought word from one of Coombes
friends (Rubens) warning him of the approaching danger.
But Zachariah was committed to his duty as teacher and
vowed to stay at the Brazos reserve.
During the next several days rumors and suspense con-
tinued about a possible invasion of the reserve by an
armed mob of 150 men being assembled in Golconda
(Palo Pinto.) A cavalry unit under Captain Palmer was
ordered to the Brazos reserve from Fort Belknap. In addi-
tion, Lt. William Marlins company of Texas volunteer
rangers stationed 8 miles to the south of the Brazos
reserve and about half way between the two Indian reser-
vations arrived to help defend against an attack. Cold
weather continued The wind has been cutting cold
from the north all day. And we have all done well to keep
comfortable by making good fires and sitting by them.
On Jan. 8, 1859, a party of 15 men arrived as a peace
commission sent by Texas Governor Hardin Runnels.
Please see page 4
ZACHARIAH E. COOMBES:
Frontier Teacher on the Brazos Indian Reservation
By Jim Dillard
From page 3
The commissioners were Capts. Erath (George B. Erath
for whom Erath County was named), Norris and Walker.
Their purpose was to help calm the inflamed situation
between local citizens and Indians on the reserve to pro-
mote a lasting peace. They proposed that Indians were
not to leave the reserves under any circumstances in the
future and that the Indians shall pass unnoticed the mur-
der of their people in Palo Pinto County and if any more
of them are killed that they must patiently and gently
submit to that also.
On Saturday, Jan. 9, the commissioners were guests at
the Coombes quarters and departed the following day to
visit at the camp of Allison Nelson and his mob that was
being assembled to force Indians
from the reserves. Captain
Palmer left with his company and
traveled back to Fort Belknap
and would return in a day or two
to camp near the Caddo village.
On Monday 25 children were in
attendance at the school, but due
to rain, only six returned during
the evening. A General Scott
arrived at the Brazos reserve in
route to the Clear Fork of the
Brazos but left before Coombes
had a chance to see him.
Although the index of the pub-
lished diary of Coombes indi-
cates that this was General
Winfield Scott, it was likely
someone else. Coombes even
referred to Scott as our friend
which would indicate he was a
personal acquaintance. Scott was
apparently on his way to the
Clear Fork of the Brazos River
country to prospect for land suit-
able for farming/ranching. At that
time 73-year-old Lt. Gen.
Winfield Scott (a.k.a. Old Fuss
and Feathers) was the highest
ranking general of the United
States Army. Being in poor health and overweight, it is
unlikely that he would have traveled to the Brazos
reserve in 1859 for any reason. He was at San Juan
Island, Washington, during October 1859, having been
sent there by President James Buchanan to settle a dis-
pute called The Pig War with the British.
On Jan. 11, 1859, at the request of Captain Palmer,
Coombes sent his friend Owens to Fort Belknap with his
keg to be filled with whiskey (for consumption by guests
Im sure.) The ministers and envoys to Anadarko Chief
Jose Marias court left for their company and from there
to their respective homes. Most of the children at school
were Caddo on this day including two new students.
Zachariahs father left to travel to the Clear Fork of the
Brazos country to look for a place to make a crop. That
evening Coombes watched the Indians gambling with the
bone game.
It rained most of the following day as his father
returned from his trip to the Clear Fork. He reported that
it was quite good country but scarce of timber.
Zachariahs friend Owens returned with the keg of whis-
key sent by Captain Palmer at Fort Belknap. Coombes
speculated that it is not likely to be of much service
to me as old Frank Harris is here and he can swig the
whole of it himself in lyss than no time. On that day his
friend Owens and Dr. Stern had a fight for unspecified
reasons in his house. With the lack of military officers
being present at the reserve, Zachariah continued to
lament his and his familys situation and condition of
affairs and wished to be safe in some other part of the
country.
There was good attendance at the school during the
next two days with most students having a good disposi-
tion to learn. Beef came in and was divided to all except
the Tonkawa who went home without their ration.
Apparently, most of the Indians did not like the Tonkawa
and rejoiced in the fact that they did not receive beef on
that day. More beef arrived the next day of which the
Indians got first choice and had theirs killed and pro-
cessed before Coombes arrived for his share. Coombes
was glad to welcome back to the Brazos reserve Captain
Ross and his son Peter F. Ross who arrived from San
Antonio. They were informed that a company of men
was still being assembled to attack the reserve. Coombes
bought a sow and pigs from Mrs. (Mary) Shaw.
Mary Shaw was wife of Delaware Indian Jim Shaw
(Bear-Head), one of the most prominent scouts and inter-
preters who served in the frontier Texas during the 1840s
and 1850s. He was fluent in several Indian languages and
English, making his services invaluable in communica-
tion between several tribes of Indians, Texas officials and
United States Army units. During the early 1850s, he and
his wife lived on the upper Brazos River near Fort
Belknap. From there Shaw served with military com-
manders at Fort Belknap, Fort Phantom Hill and Camp
Cooper, including Robert E. Lee. He was instrumental in
guiding the expedition that selected the site for the
Brazos and Comanche reservation lands in Texas. He
died during in 1858 after falling
through the roof of a house he was
building for himself and his family
near Fort Belknap.
Zachariahs father began his return
home to Dallas on Monday Jan. 17.
School resumed with 38 students in
attendance and eager to learn.
Coombes learned that evening that
Mr. Valentine and Mr. Loving
(Oliver Loving) were buying cattle
at good prices and regretted that his
father had already left and would
miss the opportunity to sell them
some of his. In 1860 Oliver Loving
and John Dawson would drive a
herd of 1,000 longhorns northward
across Red River and up the
Arkansas River and on to Denver
where gold had been discovered and
beef was in high demand by miners.
The following day even more
Indian children arrived for school,
although some were transient and
difficult to keep in good order.
Zachariahs very good friend Owens
came by the school to say goodbye
after being discharged from employ-
ment by Dr. Stern over the previous
incident at Coombes house that
resulted in a fight. Coombes visited with Captain Ross
that evening and went to the Caddo Village to visit
friends there. (To be continued)
Sources: The Diary Of A Frontiersman, by Z.E.
Coombes; Heap Many Indian Chiefs, by Roy Holt,
Empire of the Summer Moon, by S. C. Gwynne, The
Handbook of Texas Online, Lambshead Before
Interwoven: A Texas Range Chronicle 1848-1878, by
Frances M. Holden, Rip Fords Texas, by John Salmon
Ford; Frontier Defense in the Civil War, by David P.
Smith, and many other internet websites. A special thanks
to Ted and Nancy Paup for providing a copy of Zachariah
E. Coombes published diary. Coombes was Nancy
Paups great-great grandfather.
and overweight it is affairs and wished to be safe in some other part of the resulted in a fight C
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 4
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 5
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I
received this query, and it has proved to be quite
interesting:
I was hoping you could help me with a story
Im working on for the Star about the Scott Ranch up by
Graford. Im interviewing different family members, but
they dont have specifics on when the family came to the
area. The information I have is on Sarah McClure Scott
and Walter Oscar Scott and their children. The ranch was
southwest of Graford off Grassy Ridge Road (not
sure if that road is still called that, but there used to
be a Grassy Ridge school). It ran from Grassy Ridge
Road to Keechi Creek, Im told. The family member
I spoke to seemed to think the McClures (Sarahs
family) came from Georgia in the early 1800s, but
Walter Oscar Scott is a son who inherited the origi-
nal 640-acre land grant from his father. Anyway,
since the story is supposed to be about the ranch, I
was wondering if you could use your resources
to find out about Walters parents and when they
came to PPCo in order to date the beginning of the
ranch, which Im told was sold in the 1970s.
Relatives still living are 2-3 generations from the
original homesteader. Thank you. I always enjoy
your ancestry columns. mwcalco@yahoo.com Jeri
Calcote
This is what I have discovered:
Sarah Elizabeth McClure and William/Walter
Oscar Scott were married in Jack County, Texas, on
Jan. 1, 1891. At age 6 Sarah is listed, with her par-
ents, John C. and Melissa Scudder McClure on the
1860 Census of Palo Pinto County showing that she
had been born in Georgia. John C. had been born on
April 26, 1831, in Pickens, SC, and died in Texas.
Melissa was born Dec. 24, 1832, in Georgia.
Melissa was the daughter of William and Sarah
Scudder. William was born in 1796 in New Jersey
and died in 1870 in Carroll, Ga. His parents were
Richard, 1774-1840, and Jane Jones, 1779-1850.
Richard was born in Princeton, Cumberland County,
NJ, and died in the same place in 1840, while Jane
was born April 18, 1779, in Kingston, Somerset, NJ,
and died in Kansas, Carroll County, Ga. Kansas is
now made up of a cemetery and a Baptist Church,
near the town of Carroll in western Georgia.
William/Walter O. Scott was born on Feb. 27, 1861, in
Lyon, Ky. His parents were also born in Kentucky as per
the 1930 Federal Census. They were James Alfred Scott
and Sarah M. Campbell. Sarah Campbell was born in
Crittenden, Ky., on Feb. 26, 1840, and died in 1874,
probably in Lyon, Ky. James and Sarah married on Dec.
28, 1859, in Lyon, Ky.
After Sarahs death James married Agnes Medora
Jones in 1875. James Alfred was born Jan. 22, 1842, in
Madison, Ky., and died March 4, 1918, in Tulia, Swisher
County, Texas.
James mother was Sarah Frances, who was born in
1795 in Virginia and died in Madison, Ky. His father was
James Alexander Scott who was born in 1790 and died in
1850 in Madison, Ky.
William was by himself in Lyon in 1870. But by 1880
he had married Agnes, and they lived in Palo Pinto
County in 1880, according to the census; but they were
back in Kentucky in 1900 or in Tulia. The census seems
to have both places. They died in Swisher County. They
were only in Palo Pinto County for about 10 years.
I do believe the ranch in question may have come from
the McClure family, as the Scott family lived only a little
while in Palo Pinto County and then in Tulia in Swisher
County, Texas, where Williams father died. So, I
guess this is still a mystery!
Here is another query that came to me this sum-
mer:
Sue, my name is Steve Hay. I got your address
from your Wilson & Garland Family postings
online. You seem to know a lot of people in that
area; your page was very cool reading. Our branch
of the Hay tree is descended from Howell Hay,
like the other Hays there in Palo Pinto county. My
grandpas dad was Cicero Hay, one of Howells
sons. Grandpa (Claud Hay) moved his family out
to California around 1936, and weve been here
since. I only knew Grandpa and his brothers
(Cecil, Sam, Bill, and Boots) (I never met Valarie,
the one sister), and only met the cousins one time
in the early 70s. I never have met or heard from
any of Grandpas uncles families. But your page
was very cool, and if someone there does one on
our family Id be very interested in reading it or
maybe even talking to them. I can get family
names online, but the stories are the interesting
part, as you know. Thank you for your time, I hope
you dont mind me writing. Steve Hay, Oakdale,
Calif. slhay59@yahoo.com.
This is what I discovered about the Hay family.
Evidently Steve was missing a Cicero, as there
were two!
Cicero Hay, born in 1915, was on the 1930
Federal Census in Palo Pinto County with siblings
Bill, Cecil, Claude, Thurman and Valree. His
father was Cicero Smith Hay, born in Texas, on
Dec. 28, 1883, and his mother was Ida who was
born in Alabama. They had children Orby and
Carie in the 1910 Census, and in 1920 they were
renting a house in Graford, Texas.
Cicero Smith Hay died March 10, 1961. His father was
Howell Cobb Hay, born Sept. 11, 1847, in Macon, Ga.,
and moved to Palo Pinto County by the 1900 Census.
Please see page 8
Chasing Our Tales
By Sue Seibert
,,
Sarah Francis Scott
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 7
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From page 6
He died Aug. 16, 1911. His father was James Peyton
Hay, 1811-1892. His mother was Mary A. Lamar who
was born in 1820. They both were born and died in
Georgia.
Howell Cobb Hay married Mary Elizabeth Smith who
was born June 30, 1854, in Georgia, and died in
Salesville, Texas, May 9, 1908. Her parents were Jesse
Tatum Smith, 1814-1885, who was born in South
Carolina and died in Texas, and Nancy Elmira Kite,
1814-1886, who was born in Georgia and died in Texas.
Jesses parents were John Smith, 1785-1855, and Susan
Byrd Tatum, 1792-1858.
Some other facts about the Hay family include that
William Frank Davis was born June 3 1881, and died
June 3 1941, in Palo Pinto, Texas. He married Perrie Hay,
daughter of Howell Hay and Elizabeth Smith. She was
born May 21 1882, and died April 7, 1976 in Palo Pinto,
Texas.
The Mineral Wells Index reported in 1994 the death of
Martha Izora Hay, wife of John Howell Hay, who died
September 15, 1994. She was the daughter of Oliver
Franklin Smith and Caldonia West. She was born on July
22, 1898 in Donia, Freestone County, Texas, and died in
Mineral Wells, Texas, and was buried in the Salesville
Cemetery.
Now, I have some more Hay story from Steve: The
second Cicero, known as Sam, middle name Wilson,
was a decorated war hero. I have a picture of him wear-
ing his Bronze Star, but I cant find any documentation
about it. Apparently fire
destroyed a warehouse the
government had in St Louis
where many of the records
were kept. Dad says he
never wanted to talk about
what happened that earned
him the medal. Dad says he
got the Bronze Star in
WWII, and the Oak Leaf
Cluster in Korea.
You found that Cicero
Smith Hay was renting
a house in Graford in 1920,
so that tells me that whatev-
er farming or ranching the
Hay family was doing was
on rented land. Does that
make sense, or jive with
what youve heard? I met
Cecil on a farm in the early
70s, but I was only around
12 years old, and too young
to have known if it was
owned or rented land. The
reason I ask is Dad and my
aunt Claudette Valre are taking a trip out that way in
October, and Dad was hoping to see the old homeplace if
we could figure out where it is.
My grandpa Claude told me lots of stories about
growing up there, and about Possum Kingdom, but hes
been gone almost 20 years now, and I just dont remem-
ber any details about what he said. I found the newspaper
clipping of Izoras obituary folded up inside my grand-
parents 50th anniversary invitation, in Grandmas
album.
Finally, one more query, and although it is about
Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR), it is inter-
esting:
Dear Sue,I have recently discovered 2 and possibly 3
ancestors who served in the Revolutionary War. I havent
sent in my forms and havent completed the many steps
in proving the lineage, but am interested in becoming a
member in the near future. My contact numbers are
below. If any of your members assist new members in
completing their applications, that would be helpful. My
husband has traced his family back and has been accept-
ed in the SAR. He has encouraged me to do my research
and get my family line qualified. In my line on my
Mothers side: Janna Patton-Brimer>Mother: Grace
Arlene Sears b: 1917>Father: Robert Hardin Sears b:
1883> Father: David Sears b: 1850> Father: Green Henry
Sears b: 1769> Father: Thomas Sears b: 1730 VA d:
1788> Father: Joseph Sears b: 1691 VA d: 1740 VA>
Father: Samuel Sears b: 1663 Massachusetts d: 1741
Massachusetts. Patriots. Samuel was married to Mercy
Mayo b 1664, Spouse Samuel Sears, Child; Benjamin
Sears and my ancestor; Joseph Sears; Benjamin Sears is
identified in SAR Membership 24343. Several other
members of SAR #86915 have connections with my fam-
ily as well however, I havent found one with my ances-
tor Joseph Sears.
Samuel Sears; b Jan 3, 1663 and Joseph Sears who
died in 1740 are grandfather and Father to Thomas Sears,
b 1730, d 1788 and he is listed in SAR. Also in my line
on my fathers side: Janna Patton-Brimer (me)>Father:
Clycie Clarence Patton b: 1919>Mother: Mary Ellen
Coker b: 1893>Mother: Nannie Ataline Hogan b:
1875>Father: James Pl Pilkinton b: 1821>Mother:
Adaline* Heath b: 1794>Father: Jacob Heath b: 1747
Haverhill, Essex, Massachusetts, d: 1816 Greensboro,
Guilford, NC (Patriot). And on my fathers side are:
Janna Patton-Brimer> Father: Clycie Clarence Patton b:
1919>Father: Joseph Otis Patton b: 1895>Mother: Emma
Lee Martin B: 1867>Mother: Rebecca Danridge Sitton b:
1835> Father: Benjamin Franklin Sitton b:
unknown>Father: Jeffery Sitton b: 1769>Mother Diannah
Beck b: 1749>Father: Jeffery Beck b: 1721 Pennsylvania
d: Dec 1779 NC (possibly a Patriot). I have seen some
indications in notes of others on ancestry trees that
Jeffery Beck also fought in the Revolutionary War, how-
ever, havent proven this. If you have genealogists in
your group who could help me with all this, let me know
and Ill contact them. Im looking forward to completing
this project. Janna Kay Brimer, Janna Kay Brimer
JKBrimer@sbcglobal.net.
The information I gave to
Janna Kay is that now that she
has her lineage, she needs to
prepare primary documents to
support it. Someone wanting
to prove patriotic ancestry for
DAR or SAR needs as much
primary information as possi-
ble including birth, marriage,
and death certificates. Also,
DAR will now provide ances-
tor numbers, if your ancestor
has already been proven,
which will assist in supporting
claims of patriotic ancestry.
Their website is http://www.
dar.org/ . The local Mineral
Wells Chapter, Ralph Ripley,
meets the first Saturday of
each month. If you are inter-
ested, please contact me at
siouxcitysue@att.net. And, if
you have information or que-
ries, you may contact me, also.
Until next time. . .
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 8
y
Sam Wearingg the Bronze Star
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 9
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October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 10
I
ts a known fact that wheat cant be
harvested in Texas without suffering
a heatstroke under a scorching hot
sun. Thats why the irony struck him odd
when Sam Williams turned his collar up
against a cold Nebraska wind. And it was
a brisk wind that blew golden waves
across an endless sea of wheat. Oh, it was
truly amazing to see wheat fields stretch-
ing beyond the horizon. In comparison,
nothing was nearly as big back home in
Weatherford. You gotta go way out west
near Amarillo to see fields like this in
Texas. Thinking on it again, Sam shook
his head in disbelief. Then he mumbled to
himself something about how Texans
shouldnt have to harvest wheat in the
cold wind. It just wasnt right, and
besides, he didnt bring a coat.
His stiff fingers fumbled open a tattered
envelope addressed to Samuel Williams,
c/o postmaster, Norfolk, Nebraska. The
letter came last week from Sarah and it
was conveniently tucked away in his back
pocket where it stayed at-the-ready for the
next chance to reread it. Hed read it so
many times that nearly every word was
put to memory. But, somehow, just read-
ing it aloud helped Sam recall her smiling
face. The last time he saw her was five
long months ago and that was back on
April 23rd at his 17th birthday the same
day hed left home to follow the wheat
harvest. They talked about it and she
knew the inherent dangers that could
leave her son injured and possibly strand-
ed far faraway from home. How could she
send her only boy to work a mans job
seven days a week on a thousand mile
journey to Canada? The known risks were
heavily weighed in comparison to their
desperation and a field hands income
tipped the scales against her better judg-
ment.
So to ease her worries, Sam agreed to
write Sarah each time they moved camp.
And in response, she always answered
him the same day she received his letter.
Every other week, Sarahs letters reported
more bad news from back home where
widespread crop failures meant hard
times. September in Parker County, Texas,
was usually dry with a few showers here
and there, but it hadnt rained in six weeks
and the long agonizing drought continued.
Marshall, Sams father, had all the work
he could do to keep their ranch together
while Sarah tended to her parched garden.
Neither one fared very well.
The year 1897 would go down as the
worst Texas economy in more than a
decade. It affected everyone with equal
misery and the Williams family was no
exception. It started four years earlier
when folks lost more than they could
afford to loose from a devastating disas-
ter: the Depression of 93 and the drought
years that followed. Yet, Sarahs letters
were more than just weather reports, she
gave Sam hope and encouragement for a
better tomorrow when he could come
home to his loving family. To relay their
emotions, she wrote of his friends fond
accolades for him and how Sam was sore-
ly missed by his sisters, Barbara, and
Linda, and it comforted him.
Sam gently folded the letter to store it
away with his full collection of Sarahs
letters carefully hidden inside his fiddle
case. Before closing the case he held the
instrument in a firm grip to admire his
most prized possession, a four string fid-
dle his Grandpa Williams had given him.
It reminded him of the dear old man,
which made the instrument even that
much more precious to him. Each time his
hands touched the finely crafted wood,
Sam felt Grandpa close to him: teaching,
sharing, and spending time with him.
As a young boy, Grandpa had taught
him old Irish jigs and reels that were tra-
ditional songs his family brought over
from the old country. He told Sam a story
about how the songs were written long
ago. The United Kingdom had enslaved
the Irish people, and to indoctrinate
Irishmen into British culture, a decree
went out to all the land: bagpipes were
outlawed. This was devastating to the
Irish having lost the heritage of their
beloved bagpipes. But to save the music,
bagpipe songs were rewritten for the fid-
dle and brought over to America as the
Irish jigs and reels we enjoy today.
At first, he applied some resin on the
bow, and then, Sam tuned the strings with
a twist of the keys.
Nestled carefully under
his chin, he drew the bow
across the strings to begin
a slow waltz and the
sweet melodious tone
pleased him. With that
done, Sam was ready for
tonights dance and so
was Norfolk. Young and
old alike danced to the
music of Sams fiddle
accompanied by a four
piece band.
Woodchoppers
Breakdown, Little Liza
Jane, Butter The Other
Side, Whiskey Before
Breakfast, and Sally Ann were some of
the more requested tunes folks enjoyed.
They danced nearby to drop coins in an
open fruit-jar at his feet, which served as
Sams collection plate for any and all
donations. He played center stage to be
heard above the band, which drew an eye
of admiration from the fairer sex. And,
they had good reason to admire him. He
had strong handsome features with his
framed chiseled face, coal black shocks of
hair, high cheekbones, deep set eyes, and
a prominent jaw line. A pretty girl might
drop a coin in his jar with a wink and a
smile for Sam as she danced in the arms
of her partner. But over time, Sam had
learned it wasnt always healthy to return
the smile and especially the wink.
After the tips were shared with the
band, Sam picked up his pint of whiskey
as payment for his services when he
noticed her waiting alone backstage. They
exchanged a few pleasantries while he put
away his fiddle and bow, but his mind
was elsewhere. Sam thought she was by
far the prettiest girl there, yet he walked
away leaving her and the crowd back at
the street-dance. With his fiddle case in
one hand and bottle in the other, Sam
walked back to harvest camp where he
settled in his wagon for the night and to
drink the proceeds from his musical per-
formance.
Weeks dragged by working the same
old routine from bundling wheat stalks in
the fields all day to playing late night
dances. Their northward ascent devoured
crops like a swarming plague of locus
leaving nothing behind but a stubble of
stalks in a barren field. Each time they
moved their equipment to a new field they
took another step further away from
home, and Sam was homesick. He didnt
care if the wheat harvest went all the way
to Calgary, or the North Pole for that mat-
ter, Sam was finished with it. So he took
his earnings to the nearest train depot and
bought a one-way ticket to Ft.
Worth, Texas.
His homecoming was met
by his adoring family and
friends in a tearful reunion the
likes of which would flatter a
war hero. Sarah was waiting
anxiously to see him and she
stood in the doorway when
Sam walked into the yard.
With tears in her eyes Sarah
embraced Sam and confessed
that she never shouldve let
him go in the first place.
Drought conditions contin-
ued to hold Texas in a death-
grip and Sam settled in to
daily chores at home with
occasional jobs for hire. But, his music
faired better. Sam was promised five dol-
lars if hed play a dance over at
Cartervilles church tabernacle on
Saturday night. It was an opportunity he
couldnt refuse.
The dance brought in a big crowd and
there were old friends Sam hadnt seen
since their school days. It was a grand
time to kick up his heals, fiddle some fast
Please see page 20
Samuel
Lewis
Williams
By Randall Scott
Sam with his sisters, Barbara
and Linda, riding in the buggy.
Samuel Williams, age 31.
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 11
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 12
B
efore April of 1989, the
closest thing to horror my
friend, Cyndi, and I ever
experienced was at the drive-in movie
when her VW Bug popped out of gear
and jerked backwards during a scary
scene in a thriller. We both screamed.
I was 22 in 89, and Cyndi was a couple
of years older. Everything was green that
spring. The sun was shining, and the tem-
perature was perfect. We lived in Ft.
Worth, and my in-laws had recently pur-
chased some land near Mineral Wells. The
magnificent Baker Hotel intrigued us, but
we didnt know much about it. Cyndi and
I had spent the morning researching it in a
Ft. Worth library. Spring fever and curios-
ity led us to Mineral Wells that afternoon
so long ago. We just had to have a closer
look at the grand old hotel. Even then it
was vacant and in poor condition.
We walked up the steps and stood on
the portico. Cyndi was standing about 10
feet from me as I peeked through the
murky glass of the main entrance. I gazed
at the front desk for a moment, and as my
eyes followed the majestic staircase high-
er and higher, I saw a white-haired figure
on the stairs. He was thrashing a wooden
object in the air.
I spun around and pressed my back
against the door. Cyndi, I just saw a
ghost! He was shaking his cane at me!
She moved closer to me and said,
Yeah, hes coming over here.
Grateful I could speak, and relieved that
she also could see him, I stepped away
from the door. The old man was barefoot,
wearing a wife-beater undershirt and
jeans. He had a short, scruffy, white
beard.
He threw open the door and said,
Sorry, ladies, this is private property.
Yall are trespassing, and you need to go.
It sounded more like a speech than a
reprimand, but as we stood face-to-face, I
could see the object hed been shaking so
violently on the staircase. It wasnt a cane,
but a hatchet. I turned to leave.
Oh, Im so sorry, Cyndi said. We
didnt know we were trespassing. Weve
been researching the Baker Hotel, and we
came all the way from Ft. Worth because
we just had to take a look. Were very
sorry . . .
What kinda research? Is this for school
or something?
No, just on our own. We learned that
people used to come here for the water,
and that theres a sister hotel in Hot
Springs, Arkansas, called the Arlington.
Uh-huh.
Her family just bought a spread out
south of town.
I turned around and forced a smile,
thinking, Chatty Patty, why dont you
just give this psycho my address?
Oh, really? Where bouts?
A few miles south on 281, I said.
Whose place was it? I might know
em.
Umm. Im not real sure, I lied.
Well now, I didnt realize you girls
went to all that trouble. No need to rush
off. You know, they made a movie here a
few years back. I had a pretty good-sized
part in it.
He smoothed his wavy white hair and
rubbed his rough face. His kind blue eyes
seemed to sparkle as he spoke of his act-
ing venture.
It was called Shadows on the Wall.
They used a lot of locals in it.
Really. Wed love to see it. Well have
to watch for it.
Yeah, I managed, still skeptical,
remembering my mothers warnings about
strangers.
Im Elmer Jeffcoat, the caretaker
here, he said. Howd you girls like a
tour since you came all this way?
Tour an abandoned hotel with a strange
man wielding a hatchet? Never. No one
even knew where we were, since we had
left on a whim. My eyes moved from his
blue eyes to the hatchet, and back.
Could you? Thatd be great! Cyndi
said.
I gawked at Cyndi. I couldnt believe it.
She was always the calm, sensible one.
Still, in disbelief, I followed the two of
them silently.
The first point of interest was the secu-
rity system. Mr. Jeffcoat had set up an
intercom at the front door with duct tape
pressing the talk button. Our oohs and
ahs from the portico had alerted him of
our presence. I hoped he hadnt heard me
call him a ghost.
We crossed the lobby, and I ran my
hand over the dark wood of the dusty
front desk. He stepped inside the elevator
and demonstrated it by closing and open-
ing the tarnished brass doors. It was no
longer operational, but he said they used it
in the movie.
Please see page 14
hh r c
t o G e o H r k B
By Lauri Mays
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 13
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October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 14
From page 12
I was a bellhop here as a kid, he
said as he led us to his room on the
third floor. There he put on his shoes
and a shirt, and traded the hatchet for
keys and a flashlight. I looked
around his room for signs of any pre-
vious victims. His room was a wreck.
Clothes covered the furniture, and
trash littered the floor. He had an
open package of Oreo cookies and a
bottle of Jack Daniels among the clut-
ter on the table.
In the dark stairwells he screwed
and unscrewed the light bulbs, and
used the flashlight when the bulbs
were busted or burned out. He was
tall enough to grasp the light fixtures
without a chair.
The building was massive, with
random piles of mattress and furniture
rubble. Authorities would never find
our remains in this place, I thought.
And I wondered how I would ever
find my way through the maze of
identical plaster-littered hallways and
pitch black stairwells if I needed to
escape. Scenes from The Shining
raced through my head.
The spa floor contained the old dis-
carded steam cabinets. Most of the
walls were dull and grey with the
exception of the colorful tile patterns
in the spa. We viewed the room where
they filmed the movie.
The doors to the rooms were hol-
low, with a hook in the middle, and
small doors on both sides. Guests
could hang garments needing pressing
or laundering inside the door. This
enabled the concierge access without
disturbing the guest or entering the
room.
Everybody in town used the
Bakers laundry. We picked up and
delivered, Jeffcoat said.
A musty odor permeated the build-
ing, and the higher we climbed the
heavier the bird stench became.
Broken windows and dead fowl were
numerous. He took us all the way to
the top.
I watched Judy Garland dance
across this floor when I was a kid,
he said, tapping his foot on the buck-
led wooden dance floor.
While we stood in the ballroom,
Jeffcoat told us the story of the drunk
lady who plunged to her death
attempting to jump in the swimming
pool. He told us about a young bell-
hop who lost his life in an elevator
accident, and said people had reported
seeing ghosts in the hotel.
From the terrace we looked south
toward my in-laws property. We rec-
ognized the rooftops of the mobile
homes that filled the lot across from
Woodland Park Cemetery at that time.
He said the stairs in the bell tower
were too narrow and treacherous for
us to attempt.
To break up the descent and allow
us to catch our breath, he showed us
Mr. Bakers suite. The hotel was
designed during prohibition, and he
pointed out the hidden liquor cabinet
in Bakers suite, and a secret game
room.
Back in the lobby, I noticed a stack
of old hotel brochures and picked one
up. Take it if you want, he said.
Thanks, I said. And thank you
so much for the tour.
He smiled and nodded.
I watched him lock the door as
Cyndi started her sports car. I told
myself Id take him a batch of cook-
ies some time, and maybe even a bot-
tle of Jack, to thank him once again,
but I never got around to it. Our paths
never crossed again.
A site on the web reports locals
witnessed a white-haired man waving
at them through open hotel windows.
The townspeople refer to the man as
the Bakers caretaker, however the
site claims no caretaker ever existed.
But he did. Elmer Jeffcoat lived in
room 348 and worked as the Bakers
conservator for 24 years. A veteran of
the Korean War, Jeffcoat served in the
U.S. Army and was awarded the
Silver Star Medal. His acting debut
was not in Shadows on the
Wall, but the 1986 movie,
Uphill all the Way, starring
Mel Tillis and Roy Clark.
Jeffcoat actually inspired the
Shadows on the Wall
screenplay. The idea devel-
oped when director Patrick Poole
caught a glimpse of Jeffcoats shadow
on the wall while touring the Baker
for a possible filming location. Poole
went on to cast him in the role.
Wilford Brimley starred in the 1987
television feature Shadows on the
Wall. Like Jeffcoat said, he had a
pretty good-sized part in the film. He
played a creepy bellhop named Old
Tim.
He passed away in 2002, and
Woodland Park Cemetery that we
strained to see from the top of the
Baker Hotel now holds the grave of
Elmer Newton Jeffcoat.
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 15
Texas Hill Country
19280 Hwy. 281 S. Hwy 281 S. 5 miles S. of I-20
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Saturday, Oct. 8th 9-6:30pm
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Photographs by Kate Cox | Mineral Wells Index
T
he following narrative appeared in the Aug. 28,
1975, issue of the Mineral Wells Index. Its been
paraphrased here and there:
Tied to its moorings, a cedar tree, it waits for you. At
any hour of the day or night your little wooden boat
waits for caprice, for whim, for a fleeting escapade; but
above all else, it just waits for me.
My Uncle Harry, who lives in Dallas, and I were head-
ed for the Sportsmans Paradise, bayou-choked Black
Lake in central Louisiana. On the way, old Highway 80
took us right through Marshall, Texas.
It was love at first sight in Marshall. You spotted it in
1959 in a small shop where an older man had built it by
hand using marine plywood and mahogany and a few
simple tools.
The old craftsman had even named it his Original
Skeeter Boat, which later became the basic design from
which most bass boats are manufactured today. My uncle
said wed have more luck while we fished out of the light
12-foot Skeeter, so we just bought it. (We even bought
two of them.)
Its body is soft and warm as anything of wood might
be. Like any other body it requires a physical check up
occasionally, taking a little caulk now and then.
Painted marine green, the sometimes color of water, it
feels at ease in its natatorial home, all swelled up and
proud.
Weve been inseparable on many Brazos River float
trips, riding proud round the bends, cutting sandpaper
chop as smoothly as a dolphin, for it sits low in the
water, resting quietly under an overhang while dipper
stars shone and camp coals glowed. After a deep sleep
Id thank Little Skeeter for still being there.
Its rather unusual for you to become attached to one
solitary work of art, one of wood that is so special, one
standing apart from all else, riding low, always ready.
A stroke of the paddle and away wed cut a wave,
skimming the water with hardly a ripple, making good
time to a basss lair or round the bend to see whats there.
This next essay appeared in the Sept. 23, 1979, issue of
the Mineral Wells Index. Also its been paraphrased a bit.
Never have we seen gold and silver prices fluctuate as
they have in these last few days. Its rumored that the
two oil magnates, the Hunt brothers, are speculating in
these precious metals. Price wise, these commodities tell
us of pandemonium on the trading floor.
Eight months ago (January 79) silver was under $6 on
the world market. Tuesday it closed at nearly $16 and
ounce!
Many citizens the world over who have been putting
faith in paper dollars now want something tangible. Gold
and silver are real precious metals always staying a jump
ahead of inflation (sound familiar?).
Paper money is not real; stocks and bonds and treasury
notes are merely paper, good as long as a government is
solvent, as long as mega-corporations and big banks are
well managed, but only if the global economy holds.
This kind of thinking is universal among wise men
whether youre a banker in Chile, Canada, Switzerland or
Japan.
Well never forget what happened when our family
pulled into the Holidome in Texarkana in July a year ago
(July 78). The milling people in the lobby told of gold
reaching an unbelievable $200 an ounce! Now hardly 14
months later it has almost doubled that.
Its good financial security to own a little gold and
silver, but how does one feel when it rises 5 to 10
percent in one trading day? If a tree grows 5 to 10 per-
cent in one day, what will happen when a gale roars?
What will happen to the trees root system?
All of the peoples of the earth are becoming unsure of
their governments solvencies, maybe not Switzerlands,
perhaps a few others. But the black cloud we see is
uncertainty. This compels private citizens to purchase
precious metals. After all, what is peace of mind worth?
When a man leans his back against the bark of a stout
oak tree to ponder the solvency of his own government,
he starts reeling a bit if only in his minds eye.
Everything all of a sudden seems out of balance, so one
hugs the strong oaks trunk to keep from being swept
away.
Inflation is a tidal wave affecting your ability to pur-
chase food, clothing and shelter. Your only hope is that
your life boat doesnt spring a leak. For gosh sakes, dont
ever be caught up the creek without a paddle.
This narrative appeared in the Jan. 16, 1975, issue of
the Mineral Wells Index. It has been paraphrased.
The masked bandit from the woods along with her
family gave you so much trouble that you traded for a
pair of 7 x 35 wide angle binoculars so you could just try
to keep up with her banditry.
Forty acres of watermelons you had that year, remem-
ber? How could we ever forget? Yes sir. And 40 acres of
raccoons.
They mustve told each other about the juicy pickins,
yall come, advertising in their own cunning ways for
homesteading aunts and uncles. Yall come!
Raccoons came from down the draw and over the
mountain, from cedar brakes and oak mottes,
from bar ditches and bridge culverts to pay
homage to our field of melons.
Everywhere. Have mercy. It
didnt make a hill of
beans what you
said.
They just kept on marching in.
In laboratory intelligence tests the raccoon was found
Please see page 18
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 16
h f ll i i d i h A
Odds and Ends
By Don Price
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 17
940-325-2551
4316 Hwy. 180E, Mineral Wells, TX
Powell Auto Center
940-325-1331
1418 SE 1st Street, Mineral Wells, TX
Jack Powell Ford
POWELL FAMILY
OF DEALERSHIPS
Check Out Our Entire Inventory Online
www.powellautocenter.com or www.jackpowellford.com
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 18
Mineral Wells history is based on Crazy Water -
Famous Mineral Water Co. Since 1904
Scott & Carol Elder
Bill and Helen Arneson
940-325-8870
www.famouswater.com
Premium Drinking & Mineral Waters Cooler Rental & Delivery
Crazy Lady Products (Made from Crazy Water)
Body Mist - Linen Sprays - Facial Toner - Ironing Water
Famous Mineral Water Co. Souveniers
Blue Belle Ice Cream
209 N.W. 6th St. Mineral Wells
Mon. 10-3
Tues.-Fri. 8-5:30
Sat. 9-5
Baeza Check Cashing Service
1215 S.E. 1st St Mineral Wells, Texas
Hours of Operation: M Th & F 9-6, T 10-5, Wed Closed & Sat 10-4
For a Resonable Fee, We Welcome Any and ALL Checks From Any State For Any Amount
Income Tax & Social Security Checks Up to $1,000.00 only $3.00
Payroll/401K
Unemployment Compensation
Child Support
Disability Checks
Insurance Settlements
Inheritance
Grants
ComData
Loan Checks
Royalties
Certain Money Orders
Internet Checks Not Accepted
After Hours Service Available By Appointment Only For Checks from $1,000.00 and Over
940-325-0232 940-445-0397
SERVING TEXANS FOR OVER 90 YEARS
From page 16
to be only a few points below the chimpanzee, a genius,
some scientists say. And this is where we cop out.
Mrs. Raccoon likes flesh and eggs and the produce of
orchards and grainfields, wild honey and fish from your
own nearby stock tank. By the way, for the benefit for
those of you who are snickering, have you checked your
own vegetable garden lately?
It seems the bulk of her diet comes from farm
ponds, creeks and the old Brazos River, anywhere
perch and frogs are found.
Everything aforementioned is delectable to the
raccoon. Shell leave it all behind though as soon
as she and her brood get wind of a field of succu-
lent Black Diamonds or Jubilees or Tendersweets
or even wild melons. It doesnt really matter
youre ruined anyway.
This masked bandit will make a neat round hole
the size of a silver dollar in the biggest melons.
Always the best melons in the field, only the best.
Mamma will run her paw deep to the left and
then to the right, leaving you a neat empty shell.
Thoughtful bandit that she is, for shell then roll
the melon back over with the hole on the under-
side, hiding all the muss, making everything nice
once again.
Im glad nobody saw it happen, but I fell
backward in a sticker patch as I hefted a big
40-pounder clean over my head, nothing but
an empty shell, and the raccoons saw it from
the woods. They sure laugh funny like.
A good neighbor sympathized with me; his field was in
rich Brazos river bottom, but he had it worse than I did.
Cover all your biggest melons with newspapers, he
said, then weigh em down with clods so they wont
blow away. He told me of doing that late one afternoon,
a gargantuan job in a big field, but his kids helped and it
didnt take that long.
Next morning the bright sun shone upon a field of suc-
culent melons with silver dollar-sized holes in their sides.
Having eaten so many, the masked bandits didnt even
bother to roll them over, hiding their destruction.
The newspapers? From the appearance of things, it was
really the smell of things, as the newspapers were right
handy.
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 19
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October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 20
From page 10
tunes with a good band, and party all
night with old friends. He noticed several
pretty girls in the crowd giving him the
once-over with admiring eyes. Having
traveled across the nation and back, Sam
was convinced and could testify to the
fact that girls were prettier in Texas. In
particular, one gal looked mighty irresist-
ible to him. Then again, maybe it was the
dim light of coal oil lamps hanging low
under the tabernacle. But by then, Sam
didnt care. So he grabbed her and a bot-
tle to fully indulge both vices at the same
time and Sam was enjoying himself.
Sam started his manual labor early the
next day working his assigned duties on
the family farm. Marshall referred to
them as chores and when completed, he
sent Sam into Carterville for supplies at
the General Store. Knowing that pretty
brunette hed met last night worked part-
time at the store gave Sam a spring in his
step all the way to town, and sure
enough, there she was behind the counter.
When his eyes adjusted to the interior
darkness, he looked again and this time
she was a blond, and, oh, what a pretty
blond she was. It was like an angel had
appeared before him, dressed in gingham
and calico, but without the halo. She
smiled, introduced herself as Pearl and
asked if she could help Sam find what he
needed. Thinking hed died and gone to
heaven, Sam replied in the affirmative
and had forgotten all about dancing with
that brunette the night before.
The couple had dated only three weeks
when ideas of blissful matrimony con-
sumed their every conversation and Sam
was ready to make his move. Pearl was
thrilled when Sam proposed and her
fathers blessing was the last remaining
barrier to their eternal happiness. Finally
the day came when Sam was invited into
her home to meet the family where he
would ask Pearls father for her hand in
marriage. But Pearl Halls father refused
him. Ed Hall, the brush arbor preacher,
was well aware of Sams reputation in
the community as a drunken rebel-rouser.
Sam felt ashamed and was so depressed
that he wanted to hide in the wheat fields
back in Nebraska. Realizing the futility
of it all, Sam took his hat, walked out the
door and left Pearl without saying a
word.
Frustration, anger and depression kept
Sam miserable for the next three days.
Missing Pearl and her angelic charms had
torn at his heart, yet he avoided seeing
her by his own choice, believing himself
to be corrupt and unworthy of her com-
panionship. The best thing to do was
push her out of his mind and to occupy
his time. Sam buried himself in farm
work. It seemed to be the best medicine
for him until the day came when he was
sent back into town again for more sup-
plies. He adamantly refused his fathers
command not wanting to risk seeing
Pearl and the disappointment in her eyes.
But, Sam relented and begrudgingly went
against his better judgment. Pearl met
him with open arms, and to his surprise,
she didnt hate him, nor was she disap-
pointed in him. In fact, Pearl had known
all along about Sams past and who he
was. But, his biggest shock was Pearls
conniving ways to reform him and make
a respectable man out of him.
Her plan was for Sam to be baptized
into Christ to live everyday a Christian
life going to church each Sunday and
thats just what he did. Eventually, Sam
proved himself to be worthy of Pearls
companionship, but it was more than he
could do to give up his booze. He admit-
ted that alcohol was stronger than his
willpower to quite, and because of it, Ed
steadfastly refused Sam his daughters
hand in marriage. They saw each other
daily and Pearl helped him when she
could. At the dances, she listened intently
to Sams mastery of the fiddle and
admired his God given musical talent, but
it was there that Pearl realized his temp-
tation to drink. When she talked to him,
Sam agreed with her that his fiddle play-
ing dances lead to his drinking and he
couldnt stop himself even when he tried.
For months Sam and Pearl worked
together trying to end his sinful drinking
habits until she gave him the final ultima-
tum: it was her or the booze. Again, Sam
fell into a deep depression when he real-
ized Pearls demands were justified. She
had to go on with her life and he had no
right to hold Pearl back from the
Christian life she deserved. After he
anguished with himself all night, Sam
found what he thought was the answer to
his problems. Humming an old Irish jig
hed learned as a boy, Sam picked up the
fiddle Grandpa Williams had given him
and threw it in the fireplace. His precious
four string fiddle burned to ashes and
with tears in his eyes he could once again
feel Grandpa close to him: teaching, shar-
ing, and spending time with him.
Authors Note: Sam eventually stopped
drinking to win Pearls hand and with
Eds blessings they were married Dec.
22, 1904, by Brother E.B. Mullins, who
was a Church of Christ minister in
Parker County, Texas. Later, his new
father-in-law, Ed, told him there was no
need to burn a perfectly good fiddle, in
fact, Ed felt certain God in heaven
admired fiddles almost as much as harps.
In January 1907, Sam and Pearl moved
to Palo Pinto County and bought a farm
about 5 miles west of Graford, Texas.
Two of Sams sisters and their families
were already living near Graford. They
were Jess and Barbara Ragel and their
son, J.B. Ragel, and Hillery and Linda
Wright and daughter Dollie Wright Sain.
Sam and Pearl had seven children:
Raymond Foy Williams, Lera Onita
Williams Erwin, Estelline Pat Williams
McGlaun, Geraldine Williams Baggett,
Minnie Barbara Williams Whatley, Treon
Williams Sledge, and Samuel Lewis
Williams Jr.
Sam didnt like farming, which proba-
bly stemmed from his wheat harvest days,
and so he sold his farm. They moved to
Graford and he became the first rural let-
ter carrier on a new route from Graford
to Oran, to Old Christian and back to
Graford. During his first few years Sam
delivered the mail while riding horseback
and then later on a bicycle. Next, he
drove a horse-drawn mail buggy, gradu-
ated to a horse-drawn hack (a small two
axle wagon), then a model T Ford;
and, finally, Sam delivered mail in high-
class style driving one of the better cars
of the day.
He delivered the mail out of Graford in
sunshine, rain, sleet, or snow for 20
years. He transferred to
Roscoe, Texas, and served
until his retirement on Nov.
1, 1942. He always wanted
to be a preacher like his
father-in-law, Ed Hall, and
he studied diligently for
years to achieve his
goal. Brother Sam was
known in Palo Pinto
County and adjoining
counties as a minister
of the Church of
Christ and served as a
Gospel minister until
his death, May 10,
1965. His heavenly
blue-eyed angel, and
beloved wife of 61 years, Pearl Hall
Williams, passed away only a few months
later on Aug. 2, 1965.
For grandchildrens bedtime stories,
and in some of his sermons, the fiddle
story was told in the first person by Sam
himself. Also, his daughter, Lera, and
grandson, Bob, loved to tell this family
story. And, just like his grandfather, Bob
used it in his sermon at the Brown Trail
School of Preaching on Dec. 10, 1999.
But I think, Sam (or Daddy Williams,) my
great grandfather told it best.
Consultants: Bob Erwin, Patsy Erwin
Harvey, Lera Williams Erwin
Randall Scott, is author of The
Tinner and a member of the Western
Writers Of America. You can find
Randall on the Internet at http://Randall-
Scott.com.
Sam & Pearl Williams 50th
Wedding Anniversary Portrait.
Sam & Pearl Williams with their rst
two children, Raymond and Lera, circa 1910.
Sam & Pearl Williams 50th Wedding Anniversary. Samuel Lewis Williams, age 27.
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 21
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Cross Timbers Senior
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October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 22
M
ay 1986. Five hun-
dred-plus members
of the Great Peace
March were walking to
Washington, D.C., to protest the
use of nuclear missiles. We had
been denied permission to walk
across Utah, so we had gone
across the state in private vehi-
cles and were in Colorado,
ready to resume our trek east.
In those pre-cell phone days, I phoned
daughter Laura whenever I found a pay
phone to report on my well-being and
inquire about hers, that of my other three
adult children and my one grandchild.
And there was my 83-year-old mother,
who would have come with me if she had
been able to. When I called, Laura had
sad news. She had miscarried twin
babies.
There was no time to grieve for my
daughter in her loss or for those twin
babies who would never be. Our days in
our small rolling city were a daily matter
of survival eating, sleeping, walking,
doing chores necessary to keep our rolling
city moving.
We had all city amenities water,
sewer, security force. A city council pro-
vided central leadership. We even had a
library in an old city bus, converted for
that use.
For five days we rose each morning,
ate, took down our tent, put it in its case,
rolled up our sleeping bag and bedding,
took them and our two milk crates of
extra clothing and personal possessions to
be loaded on a gear trailer to go to the
next campsite. Each evening, we reversed
the process.
For two days we stayed in the same
campsite. We used those days to do our
laundry and personal chores.
Our tents were our homes. They kept us
toasty warm, probably a -10 degree rat-
ing. The fly covers came down to the
ground, so when they were on and the
flap closed, there was insulation between
tent wall and fly cover. One morning, I
woke up to several
inches of snow on
the ground.
It wasnt com-
fortable to stay
inside the tent if
you werent sleep-
ing. At the begin-
ning of the march
I had a battery-
powered flash-
light/lantern. But
the batteries
burned up too
quickly. When it
rained in the day-
time when we
were in camp, I
didnt like staying
in the tent, so Id
put on raingear
and do odd jobs
around camp.
Staying cool in a
tent was not easy.
Wed leave the
windows open and use a wet cloth to
cool us until we could go to sleep.
We took good care of our tent-homes,
but they were prone to have zipper prob-
lems. Sand and grit would get into the
zipper teeth. A marcher retired from the
Coast Guard and his wife took on the
chore of tent-zipper repair.
Once my tent was borrowed by some-
one. But it came back. A few tents were
borrowed but didnt come back and we
found out later theyd been stolen and
sold.
Twice, I sat in my tent and watched a
tornado pass overhead.
At one campground, a tent was picked
up by the wind and blown into a river and
it floated away, along with the marchers
sleeping bag and bedding.
When I came back to Texas in
November, my tent came with me. I used
it on a trip to Iowa to an herbal confer-
ence. On that trip, I retraced part of our
march route, revisited the Amana colonies
and Dixon, Il., birthplace of President
Reagan.
The march had a city council and also a
mayor, though she was mayor for publici-
ty purposes only. When we first began
walking she had instigated a litter patrol
which picked up tons of litter. We left a
clean trail all the way across the country.
Later, she
became our cere-
monial mayor and
exchanged keys
with the mayors of
towns we passed
through. A marcher
from Germany
began planting a
peace tree in
each town, and the
key exchange and
tree planting cere-
mony became a
march tradition
which continued all
across the country.
We were walking
in Colorado with
the Rockies loom-
ing to the east of
us. Our usual 16 to
20 miles each day
took us through
Rabbit Valley,
Loma, Grand
Junction, DeBeque, Parachute, Rifle, New
Castle, Glenwood Springs, Eagle,
Please see page 23
P
e
a
c
e

M
a
r
c
h
By Wynelle Catin
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 23
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From page 22
Edwards. A nice surprise awaited us at
Vail. We were invited to spend our two
rest days in condos, with only a token
few staying in camp, which was
between the highway and a deep gulch.
I stayed in camp and set up my tent
close to the edge of the gulch. Looking
out the front of the tent I was at eye
level with the tops of tall trees. That
night I sat in the bright moonlight and
wrote letters.
Loveland Pass, 8 feet short of 12,000
feet, loomed ahead of us. A couple more
camps and we were ready to climb the
Pass. Four of us grandmothers took
turns driving one of the blister buses,
and it was my turn to drive. Inching
along behind the march, I drove up the
mountain but had to pick up a marcher
suffering from altitude sickness. Her lips
were a bright blue from lack of oxygen.
I took her on to camp, then came back
to take part in the mountaintop festivi-
ties where we were met by news media.
Down the mountain to campsites at
Lawson and Golden. Next was at Red
Rocks State Park. The park crew, as a
way of being thoughtful, leveled the
ground. It rained that day and the loose
dirt turned into rivers of red mud. When
red mud ran into my tent and I had no
way to get it out, I accepted an invita-
tion to spend the night with a family in
Denver. Before I left Red Rocks, I heard
Pete Seeger play and sing.
Congresswoman Patricia Schroeder also
came to camp with encouraging words.
Denver, that mile-high city, welcomed
us with open arms. We camped on the
west side of downtown and had a suc-
cessful rally on the grounds of the capi-
tal building. Donations, including one of
$25,000, were generous.
A young Buddhist monk joined us in
Denver and was with us all the way to
Washington. He liked to beat on a small
drum as we walked. Some marchers
werent comfortable with that. A com-
promise was reached. He walked at one
end of the March, protesters at the other
end. The column spread out for a mile
or more, so that was solved.
When we marched out of Denver, 300
local citizens paid $15 each to walk
with us for a day.
Four more campsites and we were in
Ft. Morgan. In my younger years when
we were following the oilfield, my hus-
band, two children and I spent some
time in Ft. Morgan. Because of the oil-
field boom there were no rentals and
staying in a motel was not comfortable
for our family, so we didnt stay long.
Two more campsites and we were in
Sterling. Some of us enjoyed walking
into the town, sightseeing. That night I
watched a tornado pass overhead.
Leaving Sterling, two more campsites
and we were at the Nebraska border.
What can I say about Nebraska? It
took us three weeks to traverse that flat,
monotonous and hot countryside.
While we were going across Nebraska
family members came to Colorado. For
years brothers, sister, spouses, children,
our mother, relatives of spouses, friends
caravanned to Colorado for a week of
camping in the forests. I wanted to be
with them.
Instead I went on with the march to
Omaha and spent a week in that city.
More about that next time.
(To be continued.)
October 2011 NORTH TEXAS STAR STORYTELLER & RAMBLER Page 24
OUR FAMILY KNOWS
YOUR FAMILYS NEEDS.
WE WILL HELP YOU FEEL BETTER.
D I A MO N D P H A R MA C Y
100 SE 17th Ave. 940-325-2541(inside Metro)
HOURS: Mon. - Fri. 9-9 Sat. 9-8 Sun. 10-2

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