Showing posts with label Caroline Clemmons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Caroline Clemmons. Show all posts

Thursday, January 12, 2023

FREE SHORT STORY -- HOUSTON McCLINTOCK

By Caroline Clemmons

Today I'm sharing a FREE short story with you titled HOUSTON McCLINTOCK.

 

Texan Houston McClintock encounters life altering misfortune in the Georgia forest. Perhaps Gentle Dove, the beautiful Cherokee healer, saves his life in more than one way.

 

HOUSTON McCLINTOCK

Prequel to THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE

And the McClintock Series

 

Northwest Georgia, 1858

Too weak to move, Houston McClintock’s eyes refused to open.

“You’re safe now.” A voice soft as velvet calmed him.

He fought to speak, but his dry throat and tongue declined his effort.

A damp cloth moistened his lips, then drops of water trickled into his mouth.

Someone bathed his face. Blessed coolness. Gently, the person cleared his eyes.

He forced open his eyes. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen leaned over him. Her bronze skin proclaimed her an Indian. Light from the window shot blue and copper highlights across her coal black hair. Kindness shone from her face. She appeared a few years younger than his age of twenty-five.

“Good morning, I am happy to see you are awake. My name is Gentle Dove, but friends call me Dovie.” Her smile illuminated her features. She braced his head and held a cup to his mouth.

Gratefully, he swallowed.

His gaze searched the room for clues. Planed log walls bore signs of expert craftsmanship. He lay in a brass bed covered by a brightly colored quilt. Dovie wore Anglo clothes.

Whirling memories recalled his frantic ride for the trees. Men shooting. Pain in his shoulder and head. The sensation of falling.

Had the robbers stolen his saddlebags? Money from the sale of family land in Tennessee? His favorite horse, Lightning?

He tried to rise, but fell back. “Where?”

She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t fret. You’re in the home of John Tall Trees in Georgia. You were badly injured and stripped when Papa found you.”

Was he buck naked? Houston slid his hands frantically under the covers. He exhaled relief when he realized he wore britches.

She smiled and her eyes twinkled mischievously, as if she understood his concern. “You’re taller than Papa, but he loaned you clothes. We didn’t risk opening your wounds to add a shirt.”

He glimpsed strips of fabric binding his shoulder and chest. “Bad?”

“I dug out the lead and pressed medicine into the wounds. We almost lost you. You bled a lot. Only a strong will could have survived.” She leaned forward to adjust the bandage at his forehead. Honeysuckle filled his senses and a cascade of lustrous ebony hair fell across his chest.

An older man appeared behind Dovie. “About time you woke up, young fella. I’m John Tall Trees.”

“Here...long?” The few words he’d spoken since he’d awakened exhausted him.

“Four days since I found you and tracks of three men. You were in a bad way and needed help immediately. My daughter is skilled in our medicines.”

“Don’t fear.” She checked his shoulder bandage and offered a wry smile. “I have also studied white man’s medicines.”

John gestured over his shoulder. “Big dun showed up. Figured he was your horse.”

He sighed with relief. At least he hadn’t lost Lightning. “Saddle… bags?”

The man shook his head, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Nothing. Horse appeared interested in the house so we guessed he was yours. Smart horse to track you here.”

Horror struck, his family’s money was in the saddlebags. They’d trusted him and he’d let them down. “Family...write…for me?”

“They will be worried. Tell me who.”

He gathered his strength, to speak the necessary words, “Father…Vincent McClintock...McClintock Falls…Texas.”

John Tall Trees nodded and repeated the spelling. “Your name?”

“Houston.”

“I’ll post a letter today.” He said the name and address once more.

Houston tried to nod, but the hammering in his head increased with the slightest movement.            He closed his eyes.

Dovie tucked the quilt around him. “Rest. When you wake, I’ll have warm soup for you.”

The next few days tested Houston’s self control as Dovie tended to his needs. Her gentle ways spoke to his heart. Her intellect intrigued him. Her wry sense of humor made him smile. And when their eyes met, he sensed she shared his interest.

He also enjoyed the Tall Trees’ down-to-earth values. Helping others. Peace. Unencumbered life. Why couldn’t everyone live this way?

His first day back on his feet, Dovie walked him as far as a chair. “Disgusting I’m so weak.”

Several days later, he walked to the front porch with Dovie supporting him with his arm draped over her shoulders. The sun heated his skin, but not as much as the woman beside him. He turned to face her, gazed into her mesmerizing dark eyes, and gave in to temptation.

“Dovie,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to hers. Meeting eager response, he molded her against him and deepened the kiss. Her low moan of pleasure sent his hands roaming over her back.

The sound of a deep cough broke them apart. Dovie’s father stood in the yard, arms crossed.

Dovie stared at the ground as if embarrassed.

Unashamed, Houston kept his arm around her waist.

“Looks like you’re feeling fine, young fella,” John Tall Trees said. “Daughter, are you all right?”

She raised her head. “Yes, Papa.”

“Good.” Eyeing Houston, the older man pointed an accusing finger. “Don’t you dare hurt Dovie.”

“I won’t, sir, I will treat her with the respect she deserves. You have my word.”

John nodded before he strolled into the house.

Over the following weeks, Houston kept his promise, but found it mighty hard whenever Dovie was in his arms. As their love grew, he determined to make her his wife.

Six weeks since he’d been attacked, Houston vowed he would never tire of seeing Dovie’s graceful movements. He’d dragged his feet about resuming his journey because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her.

“Let’s wed now, Dovie. Please, then you can come with me.”

She didn’t meet his gaze. “If your family says they will welcome me, I will marry you and live in Texas.” She turned and her gentle eyes held sadness as she regarded him. “I have met too many whites to believe you could be happy with me. Disapproval would kill your strong spirit.”

Anger spiraled through him. He had to admit she was right about many whites. “Your opinion is the only one that matters.”

She turned away. “You’ll care what your parents and brother think. If what you believe is true, you can return for me. If you don’t come back, I’ll carry you in my heart.” She fled to her room.

Disheartened, he stomped to the front porch.

John sat on the long bench against the wall.

Houston plopped beside him. “Hate to leave, but Dovie won’t marry me until I tell my family I love  her. Also, they trusted me and I should face them in person when I tell them how I was robbed of their money from the sale of Granpa’s farm.”

“You are an honorable man to feel as you do.”

“John, you haven’t said. Do you mind if your daughter and I wed?”

The older man glanced his way. “I like you, and you are a fine man. It’s my wish to see Dovie married with children.” Several minutes passed before John shrugged. “But who can say? Perhaps you will feel differently about us when you are surrounded by your own people.”

Sick of the same argument, Houston exhaled his frustration. “My love for Dovie is genuine. She and I belong together.”

Without speaking, John stared at the pasture where his horses grazed.

Frustrated, Houston stood and went inside.

The next morning, Houston saddled Lightning with tack loaned by John, and then led the gelding to the cabin steps.

“When I return, we’ll be wed, Dovie.” He embraced her, wishing to hold her forever.

She pulled away to look up at him. “I will keep my love for you in my heart.”

He captured her hand and pressed it over his heart. “My heart beats for you.”

He shook hands with John. “When I return, I will repay you for your kindness, but I can never  repay you for saving my life.”

“Travel safe, my son.”

Houston realized John Tall Trees harbored the same doubts as his daughter. He saw it in the older man’s eyes. Houston knew father and daughter believed they would never see him again. He’d prove them wrong.

“If I don’t return, Dovie, you’ll know I’m dead.”

***

Houston rode for over two weeks before he reached the Texas Hill Country town of McClintock Falls. When he turned into the long, tree-lined drive to his parents’ home, his heart lightened. Although John had written he’d been robbed, Houston dreaded telling them he’d lost the money, but looked forward to sharing his good news.

He shouted, “Hello the house.”

Papa and Mama came outside. Mama waited on the porch.

His father hurried to embrace him. “We’ve been watching for weeks. How are you, son? Any permanent damage from your injuries?”

“Naw, you know I’m too ornery to keep down.” Pleasure drove travel’s weariness from him. He handed Lightning’s reins to a stable hand and walked up the steps with his father.

His mother accepted his kiss and placed a hand on either side of his face. “Let me look at you and be certain those heathens didn’t hurt you. Glad that Indian wrote us, but no good comes of associating with their kind.”

Houston stepped back and frowned at his mother. “Mama, remember that white men robbed and almost killed me. John Tall Trees and his daughter literally saved my life.”

All his life Mama’s uppity ways had annoyed and sometimes embarrassed him. He’d never had them driven home so hard before. She was overly proud the town was named for Papa, but how did that make them better than anyone else?

His father slapped his back and pushed him gently forward. “Now, Zarelda, he just said the Indian family saved his life. I’d say that’s plenty good.”

“John Tall Trees found me in the woods near their home. Robbers had shot me, got the money from the land sale, stripped me bare, and left me for dead. I’d have died, but John took me to his home. His daughter nursed me back to health.” Houston wanted to say more, but decided to bide his time.

“We’ll miss that money, but your safety is all that really matters. I see you still have Lightning.” His father wouldn’t stop patting his back.

“The robbers stole him, but he showed up at the Tall Trees’ place minus his tack.

His mother’s skirts swished until she settled into her chair in the parlor. “Sit down and tell us about the trip. How were the folks in Tennessee?”

“Couple that bought Grandpa’s farm appeared nice. Folk were happy to see me and peppered me with questions about both of you. Sorry our kin’s letters for you were stolen. I can tell you who wrote, but not what their letters said.”

His father sat across from him. “Nice of that Tall Trees fella to send us word. We’d of been sick out of our minds otherwise.”

“John’s parents and other Cherokee friends escaped removal by hiding in the forest. His wife has passed on, but he and his daughter live in a large log home. He’s well respected and an educated man. Has near as many books as you do.”

“An Indian reading books? Hmph, getting above himself in my opinion. Doubt he actually read them, anyway. Probably stole them.” His mother turned up her nose.

Houston’s homecoming wasn’t going the way he’d imagined. An emptiness settled in Houston’s belly. Sadness sliced through his dreams. He’d had such hopes about the future. Admitting Dovie and John had been right hurt more than being shot had.

“Mama, the daughter, Dovie, is the local healer like Austin’s wife is here. Since they’re far from a doctor, local people of all races and incomes seek her skill.”

Vincent McClintock slapped his knee. “A healer? Now wasn’t that lucky for you?”

His longing for her had been almost unbearable. “She’s a remarkable woman in many ways.” Houston took a deep breath. “I’ve asked her to marry me.”

His father smiled and slapped his back. “Congratula—”

“You what?” Mama interrupted. She stared agape for seconds before she jumped to her feet and shouted, “Houston McClintock, I won’t have it.” She shook her finger at him as if he were a child. “You’ll marry a nice white girl and have white children. No Indian will ever set foot in this home, do you hear me?”

***

Dovie added another pebble to the thirty-three in the jar she’d set on the windowsill, one for each morning since Houston had been gone. When the jar was full, she’d know he wasn’t coming back. Her heart ached with missing him. She longed for his strong embrace, the smiles they’d shared. Now that she’d known his love, loneliness overwhelmed her.

Papa patted her shoulder. “You must keep busy, Dovie.

Deep inside she knew his family would not accept her. She belonged in the Georgia forest. Here she had a purpose. Helping people with her healing brought her pleasure. Without her, who would tend those who now sought her care?

I’m strong. I have a good life. I will survive alone.

Yet sunlight shining through the half-filled jar taunts me.

Truly I want Houston.

Dovie wiped tears from her face. The sound of horses trotting toward the cabin caught her attention. Did someone need her help? She rushed to the window and peered through the glass.

Houston rode into the yard leading three beautiful mares and a mule. Packs loaded the mule.

He’d returned to her! She flung open the door and ran to greet the man she loved with all her heart, her soulmate.

After dismounting, Houston grabbed her and spun in a circle.

Her father stepped from the barn, a wide grin splitting his face. “Hello,” he shouted. He hurried toward the couple. “I will take care of the animals.” He led them toward the barn.

Laughing, she searched Houston’s eyes. “I...I wasn’t certain you’d return. Our worlds are so different.”

“Your world is mine, my love.” He kissed her softly at first, and then ardently. “I’ve missed you every minute. I hope we can be married right away.”

She ran her palms over his powerful chest and wide shoulders, almost unsure he’d really returned. “I’m so glad you’re here. I feared you’d stay with your family.”

He caged her in his strong arms. “You’re my family.”

“Are we going to Texas?” She leaned back to watch his sky blue eyes.

Sadness briefly tinged his face, swiftly replaced by a wide smile. “My love, our home will be here with your father. Forever.”

Understanding flooded her. His family had rejected her, but he’d chosen her over them. How she loved this wonderful man. Her heart almost burst with happiness.

She caressed his strong jaw and smiled. “Forever is perfect.”

In case you haven't read the story of Houston and Dovie's son, Dallas, here's the cover and a link to the book on Amazon. Of course, it's in e-book, print, and is free in KU.

https://www.amazon.com/Texans-Irish-Bride-McClintocks-Book-ebook/dp/B008V1UG54/

Cover showing the heroine,
Cenora Rose

Stay safe and keep reading!

  

Monday, December 26, 2022

THE REAL SANTA CLAUS

Santa Claus on December 26th


I hope you’re sitting with your feet up, content as you savor memories of your Christmas celebration. Because I love this time of year, I thought I’d give you a review of the book THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SANTA CLAUS, as told to Jeff Guinn. Although it isn’t specific to west of the Mississippi River, this is a book review.

I added this paragraph to those of Jeff Guinn:

Saint Nicholas was born circa 280 in Patara, Lycia, an area that is part of present-day Turkey. He lost both of his parents as a young man and reportedly used his inheritance to help the poor and sick. A devout Christian, he later served as bishop of Myra, a city that is now called Demre.

I was relieved to learn the Santa Claus/Saint Nicholas tradition was not a marketing ploy concocted by Madison Avenue. While Bishop Nicholas, he really did go about giving gifts. Okay, he didn’t crawl down the chimney. Homes didn’t have actual chimneys as we know them back then. Many just had a hole in the roof, especially the poor to whom he donated. Not too cozy in bad weather.

Saint Nicholas’ first known gifts were to two daughters of a very poor man. They couldn’t marry without a dowry, but their father had none to offer. The father didn't think he could afford to feed the girls for the rest of his life. He was considering selling his own daughters into prostitution. Taking pity on the girls, Saint Nicholas either (1) tossed bags of gold through the window (the poor didn’t have glass in their windows) or (2) put the coins in the stockings the girls left drying by the fire each night. Thus, the girls were able to marry (and, hopefully, each got a second pair of stockings).

Saint Nicholas was an actual person who went around giving to the poor and helping all those he could. In other words, he did what we’re all supposed to do. 

  • Remarkable that he did what he could in a time when the poor were looked down upon.
  • Remarkable that doing what was right created so much notoriety and controversy and gave him a permanent place in history.
  • Remarkable that we continue his legacy by giving to those we love and, hopefully, to those in need.

Saint Nicholas

Several sources report his death as December 6, 343.
Over the years, stories of his miracles and his work for the poor spread. Saint Nicholas became known as the protector of children and sailors and was associated with gift-giving.

Whether you call him Saint Nicholas, Sinterklaas, Santa Claus, or Father Christmas, thanks for continuing his legacy.

I do believe in Santa Claus. I do! I do!

  


Sunday, November 27, 2022

STAGECOACH TRAVEL

 By Caroline Clemmons

In the Eastern United States, riding a coach meant travel from one stage stop to the next, stopping at a tavern or inn for a meal and perhaps spending the night. In the West and Southwest, there were not enough established towns. Western travelers had to be made of grit and determination!

In 1858, John Butterfield undertook an overland stage line connecting St. Louis and San Francisco by way of El Paso, Texas. The route also ran through Tucson and Los Angeles, both of which were only villages of a few hundred residents. A federal contract paid the stage company $600,000 a year to carry U. S. mail across the continent. That sum helped subsidize way stations at regular intervals. The company spent nearly a year getting everything into place to support semi-weekly stagecoach service.



When Butterfield’s Overland Mail Line opened for business on 16 September 1858, the journey between St. Louis and San Francisco required three weeks of hard traveling—if the weather was good. Coaches moved all day and all night except for brief intervals at way stations. The fare did not include the cost of meals, which cost an average of a dollar each three times a day. Passengers had to sleep aboard the coach. These mail lines were guaranteed to be rugged but they got the mail through.

At this time, most coaches set on springs which provided a bumpy, jostling ride. If passengers were fortunate, the route included riding in a Concord stagecoach. The first Concord stagecoach was built in 1827 in Concord, New Hampshire. Abbot Downing Company employed leather strap braces under their stagecoaches which gave a swinging motion instead of the jolting up and down motion of spring suspension. They were known to be built so solidly they didn’t break, they just wore out.

Concord stage in Wells Fargo colors

Over 700 Concord stagecoaches were built by the original Abbot Downing Company before it disbanded in 1847. However, the company was still building coaches, wagons, and carriages according to their business card of 1898. The coach was noted for its ability to keep passengers dry while floating across streams and rivers. The swaying motion caused some passengers to become “seasick”.

In his 1861 book ROUGHING IT, Mark Twain described the Concord stage’s ride as like “a cradle on wheels”. Hmm, guess it's a matter of perspective.

Not all stagecoaches were of one of these types. Celerity or mud wagons were much lighter and cheaper to build. They had no springs so they offered a much rougher ride. They were primarily used on lines where passenger and express traffic was too light to justify the expense of Concord coaches. Instead of having a heavy wooden top, the celerity had a light frame structure with thick duck or canvas covering, greatly reducing the vehicle’s weight. Wheels were set further apart and were protected by wide steel rims that helped keep the coach from tipping over or the wheels from sinking in soft sands.

Celerity or Mud Wagon
Note canvas roof, open sides

While not as comfortable for daytime travelers, they were designed for passenger travel at night. Waterman L. Ormsby, special correspondent to the New York Herald, described the sleeping accommodations. “As for sleeping, most of the wagons are arranged so that the backs of the seats let down and form the length of the vehicle. When the stage is full, passengers must take turns sleeping. Perhaps the jolting will be found disagreeable at first, but a few nights without sleeping will obviate that difficulty, and soon the jolting will be as little of a disturbance as the rocking of a cradle to a sucking babe. For my part, I found no difficulty sleeping over the roughest roads, and I have no doubt that anyone else will learn quite as quickly. A bounce of the wagon, which makes one’s head strike the top, bottom, or sides, will be equally disregarded, and ‘nature’s sweet restorer’ found as welcome on the hard bottom of the wagon as in the downy beds of the St. Nicholas. White pants and kid gloves had better be discarded by most passengers.”

Unlike the classic Concord stagecoaches, which could be mired in bad weather, mud wagons could travel over trails and roads during inclement weather. The only protection provided for passengers against bad weather and dusty roads were the canvas side curtains which could be rolled down and fastened.

By the way, the word “stage” meant the place where the horses or mules were changed—staged along the route. These were spaced every 12 to 20 miles, depending on the terrain, and were usually operated by a single man living in a small cottage who kept a change of horses in a barn and/or corral. The stage stopped only long enough for passengers to stretch their legs while the horses or mules were changed.

Every 50 miles were the “home” stages, which were usually a couple or family who served meals and could provide overnight lodging—though sometimes passengers slept on a dirt floor. These stations also might include a blacksmith and stables. Drivers might be switched there.

Some coaches had two seats facing one another. The larger Concord squeezed in a center, forward-facing third seat, which made passengers very crowded and uncomfortable. Often the third seat had no back, which must have made retaining balance awkward as the coach swayed along. Often passengers had to interlock knees due to the crowded interior. Imagine you were a lady in the 19th century who’d been raised to observe propriety and you found yourself on a long coach ride having to lace legs with a male stranger. Ugh! Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be comfortable now.

Here are a set of rules posted by Wells Fargo in 1888:

1.      Abstinence from liquor is requested, but if you must drink, share the bottle. To do otherwise makes you appear selfish and unneighborly.

2.      If ladies are present, gentlemen are urged to forego smoking cigars and pipes as the odor of same is repugnant to the Gentle Sex. Chewing tobacco is permitted but spit WITH the wind, not against it. (I’d think this would be a given, wouldn’t you?)

3.      Gentlemen must refrain from the use of rough language in the presence of ladies and children.

4.      Buffalo robes are provided for your comfort during cold weather. Hogging robes will not be tolerated and the offender will be made to ride with the driver.

5.      Don’t snore loudly while sleeping or use your fellow passenger’s shoulder for a pillow; he or she may not understand and friction may result.

6.      Firearms may be kept on your person for use in emergencies. Do not fire them for pleasure or shoot at wild animals as the sound riles the horses.

7.      In the event of runaway horses, remain calm. Leaping from the coach in panic will leave you injured, at the mercy of the elements, hostile Indians, and hungry coyotes.

8.      Forbidden topics of discussion are stagecoach robberies and Indian uprisings.

9.      Gents guilty of unchivalrous behavior toward lady passengers will be put off the stage. It’s a long walk back. A word to the wise is sufficient. (I love this one)

To these, the Omaha Herald in 1877 added cautions to:

Never ride in cold weather with tight boots nor close-fitting gloves.

When the driver asks you to get out and walk, do so without grumbling. He will not request it unless absolutely necessary.

Don’t linger too long at the pewter wash basin at the station. Don’t grease your hair before starting out or dust will stick there in sufficient quantities to make a respectable ‘tater patch. Tie a silk handkerchief around your neck to keep out dust and prevent sunburns. A little glycerin is good in case of chapped hands.

Don’t discuss politics or religion nor point out places on the road where horrible murders have been committed.

In very cold weather, abstain entirely from liquor while on the road. A man will freeze twice as quick while under its influence.

Don’t imagine for a minute you are going on a picnic: expect annoyance, discomfort, and some hardships. If you are disappointed, thank heaven.






The seven heroines in my Bride Brigade Series—each book of which has a new cover—traveled in a Concord coach from Fort Worth to (fictional) Tarnation, Texas. The first book is JOSEPHINE, which is only 99¢. https://www.amazon.com/Josephine-Bride-Brigade-Book-1-ebook/dp/B015M4FJUY/  

Caroline Clemmons is an award winning and bestselling author of historical and contemporary western romance. She and her husband live in cowboy country in North Central Texas where they are owned by a menagerie of rescued pets.

Sources:

Texas State Historical Association Handbook of Texas online

http://www.deadwoodmagazine.com/archivedsite/Archives/Stage.htm

http://www.historicthedalles.org/rules_for_stage_travelers.htm

http://www.encyclopedia.com/topic/stagecoach.aspx

http://www.wikipedia.com

http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=25449

 

Sunday, November 13, 2022

THE RISE OF OSTEOPATHIC MEDICINE

 By Caroline Clemmons

I’ve enjoyed Angela Rains posts on early women doctors in Colorado. She always posts interesting information. So, copying her, I intended to highlight early women doctor in Texas.  I’ve done enough genealogy to know that the story family passes down, frequently gets convoluted into something else. My intention was to feature the sister of someone who married into my father’s family.

The family story is that Necolena “Lena” Snedal McCrarary was one of the first women osteopaths in Texas and the first one to practice in North Central Texas. Following the birth of her children, she moved to Beeville, Texas, where she and another doctor purchased on old hotel and turned it into a hospital and clinic. When her daughter Evalyn joined her and the other partner retired, Lena and her daughter continued to operate the hospital and clinic. Finding corroborating records has been… not easy.

Here’s what I found instead:

In Beeville, Texas, Dr. Christian Bors-Hall, an osteopathic physician and surgeon, purchased the old Thurston Hospital on January 1, 1944, and operated it under the name of Bors Clinic. In 1958, Dr. Evalyn Kennedy, daughter of Dr. Lena McCraray (both osteopathic physicians and surgeons), bought the clinic and is presently operating the business. (Dr. Evalyn McCrarary Kennedy died in 2002.) An earlier osteopathic physician here was Dr. Catherine Compton, and when she moved to San Antonio in 1927, Dr. McCraray took over her patients. 

Lena McCrarary, D.O.


What I think I know is this:

Nicolena Snedal was born 17 May 1879 to Andrew/Andreas and Guru Anna Snedal, who had come from Frosta, Norway, two years earlier. Lena graduated in 1905 from A. T. Still’s American College of Osteopathic Medicine in Kirksville, Missouri. She first practiced medicine in Hardeman County between Quanah and Vernon, Texas.  

In 27 February 1908, she married Dozier Alonzo McCrarary. They became the parents of twin girls in 1909,Lena Rivers McCrarary and Elizabeth W. McCrarary. In 1910 Troy Bivens McCrary was born. Evalyn Blanche McCrary was born in 1920. Lena moved to the coastal area of Bee County, where her brother Haakon Snedal lived. Soon, she divorced her husband.

In Beeville, she established a very successful medical practice. Eventually, her daughter Evalyn joined her practice. Lena continued to practice medicine until shortly before her death in 1961.

Osteopathic Medicine

Beginning as a reformation movement in search of an alternative to standard medical practice, osteopathy claims a formal beginning in 1874 with Andrew Taylor Still, MD, DO. A frontier physician known as the “Father of Osteopathy,” Dr. Still served an apprenticeship under his father and referred to himself as a licensed frontier physician (MD) and went on to establish the American School of Osteopathy in Kirksville, Missouri. 

While medical schools and male medical doctors were (in general) still resistant to female doctors, osteopathic medicine (in general) accepted women.

Early nineteenth century osteopathic philosophies, such as shifting the treatment of medical conditions away from prescription medicine and focusing on utilizing a whole body approach to treatment, are widespread in current health care practices. Publications of pamphlets and postcards from these early years showcase fundamental osteopathic principles and provide historical references about the practice of osteopathic physicians and early osteopathic hospitals, infirmaries, and sanitariums. Preservation of these physical artifacts extends the collective record of medical history and lays the foundation for current osteopathic medical practices.

In these early years, osteopathic information was circulated by way of pamphlets, leaflets, and brochures. The archives in the Kansas City University of Medicine and Biosciences D’Angelo Library contain pamphlets and postcards that predate or are contemporary to the first published osteopathic medical history. These early publications have been designed with striking illustrations and photographs and describe new (at the time) medical theories such as the interrelated nature of bodily systems and musculoskeletal treatment techniques (e.g., osteopathic manual manipulation), with an overall emphasis on wellness and disease prevention.

Dr. Stanhope Bunting became a pioneer for disseminating early osteopathic information. He became impressed with Dr. Still’s movement after travelling to Kirksville, Missouri, to write a story for a Chicago newspaper in the mid-1890s. He eventually enrolled in the school and graduated in 1900, setting up a practice in Chicago and beginning two monthly publications, Osteopathic Physician for the practitioner only and Osteopathic Health for the general public. These publications document historical philosophies and practices of osteopathic medicine.

 

Sources:

Ancestry.com

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6920009/

Tuesday, April 26, 2022

HOW WINDMILLS CHANGED THE WEST

By Caroline Clemmons

I love both windmills and sunsets. Although they’re difficult to find now, I love the old wooden frame style best. I love the song the windmill sings during a breezy day or evening. With the windows open, the sound is a lullaby at bedtime. Don’t get me wrong, I love modern conveniences, but they’re a trade-off. We lose something with each part of our past that disappears.


 

Over 80,000 windmills are estimated to be working now in Texas, the state in which I live. You can’t drive on any road without seeing them in the distance. They are of particular service to ranchers in the arid regions. Land that once was almost useless to ranchers became valuable once windmills were erected. The windmill has come to be one of the symbols of ranching and cowboys. Once I started researching them, I was surprised the type I have come to love was not as old as I’d suspected.

Before the introduction of windmills to the West, inhabitable land was confined to areas where a constant water supply was available. There was no way for vast areas to be settled without a life-giving supply of water. The coming of the windmill made it possible to pump water from beneath the ground, and soon whole new areas were opened up to settlers. The first windmills were of the European style, built by Dutch and German immigrants for grinding meal and powering light industry. What settlers needed most, however, was a windmill that pumped water.

Because of its bulk and need for constant attention, the European windmill was impractical for this purpose. The solution to this problem came in 1854, when Daniel Halladay (Halady or Halliday) built the first American windmill in Ellington, Connecticut. He added to his mill a vane, or "tail," as it was called by cowhands, that functioned to direct the wheel into the wind. The wheel was a circle of wood slats radiating from a horizontal shaft and set at angles to the wind, designed so that centrifugal force would slow it in high winds; thus, the machine was self-regulating and operated unattended. Its simple direct-stroke energy converter consisted of only a shaft and a small fly wheel to which the sucker rod was pinned. This compact mechanism was mounted on a four-legged wooden tower that could be constructed over a well in one day.

Railroad companies immediately recognized windmills as an inexpensive means of providing water for steam engines and for attracting settlers to semi-arid regions through which they planned to lay track. By 1873 the windmill had become an important supplier of water for railways, small towns where there were no public water systems, and small farms. Are you old enough to remember that old television show, Petticoat Junction?


 

Many of the very early mills were crude, inefficient, homemade contraptions. One of the popular makeshift mills was a wagon wheel with slats nailed around it to catch the wind, mounted on half an axle. The axle was fastened securely to a post erected beside the well. A sucker rod was pinned to the edge of the hub. It was stationary and worked only when the wind blew in the right direction. The windmills used later on the big ranches were the more dependable factory-made windmills.

Windmills moved to ranches with the use of barbed wire in the late 1870s. At first the water holes, springs, creeks, and rivers were fenced, so that the back lands had no access to water. In the midst of the fence cutting and fighting, some ranchers began drilling wells and experimenting with windmills. Most of these experiments were unsuccessful, however, due to lack of knowledge concerning the proper size of the windmill in relation to the depth and diameter of the well. One of the earliest successful experiments was made eight miles north of Eldorado, in Schleicher County, Texas by Christopher C. Doty, a nomadic sheepman. Doty moved his flock into that area and found abundant water in shallow wells. By 1882, however, a drought had dried his wells; he ordered a drilling rig from Fort Scott, Arkansas, bored a fifty-two-foot well, and erected a Star windmill, which successfully supplied water for his 4,000 head of stock.


 Watering stock with windmills spread rapidly. Eastern land speculators began buying, fencing, and running stock on the land until it became ripe for colonization. The largest of the Eastern land speculators, the Capitol Syndicate, began using windmills on its XIT in 1887. One of their windmills was believed to be the world's tallest. It was made of wood and was a total height of 132 feet. A historical marker at Littlefield, Texas, marks the site of a replica. The original windmill blew over in 1926. By 1900 the XIT had 335 windmills in operation.

Not until the King Ranch began extensive use of the windmill in 1890 did that the practice begin to spread rapidly over that area. By 1900, windmills were a common sight in the West. Inhabitable land was no longer limited to regions with a natural water supply. The windmill made the most remote areas habitable.

The use of windmills brought about two of the most colorful characters of the West, the driller and the windmiller, and altered the lifestyle of another, the range rider. The driller was usually a loner and seldom seen by anyone except the range rider and windmiller. He followed the fence crews and guessed at where he might find water, then bored wells with his horse-powered drilling rig. When the driller was successful the windmiller followed and set up a mill. Owners of the larger ranches usually employed several windmillers to make continuous rounds, checking and repairing windmills. The windmillers lived in covered wagons and only saw headquarters once or twice a month. The early mills had to be greased twice a week, and this was the range rider's job. He kept a can (or beer bottle) containing grease tied to his saddle. When he rode up to a mill that was squeaking, he would climb it, hold the wheel with a pole until he could mount the platform, and then let the wheel turn while he poured grease over it.

The range rider was always in danger of attacks from swarms of wasps, which hung their clustered cells beneath the windmill's platform; there was the added danger of falling from the tower when such attacks occurred. The windmill industry's shift in 1888 to the back-geared, all-steel mill caused heated debates in livestock and farming circles. Most ranchers and farmers welcomed the new steel windmill because its galvanized wheel and tower held up better in harsh weather; also, its gear system was better able to take advantage of the wind, thus enabling the windmill to run more hours per day. The back-geared mill could also pump deeper and larger-diameter wells. Those who favored the old wood mill argued that the steel mill was more likely to break because of its high speed, that it was not as easily repaired as the wood mill, and that when parts had to be ordered the steel mill might be inoperative for days. Though sales of wood mills continued, they declined steadily, so that by 1912 few were being sold.



The last major development in the windmill came in 1915. A housing that needed to be filled with oil only once a year was built around the mill's gears. This relieved the range rider of his biweekly greasing chores and somewhat diminished the windmiller's job. Because of the dependability of this improved windmill, worries over water shortages were eased for the rancher, farmer, and rural dweller. This mill was the prime supplier of water in rural Texas until 1930, when electric and gasoline pumps began to be widely used.

The Aermotor Windmill Company, which commenced operations in Chicago in 1888, is the nation’s sole remaining full-time manufacturer of water-pumping machines. Windmills remain an important supplier of water for cattlemen. Texas’ King Ranch in the late 1960s kept 262 mills running continuously and 100 complete spares in stock. Stocking spare mills is a common practice among ranchers who depend on the windmill to supply water for cattle in remote pastures. One important ranch worker is the man who rides—or drives—from windmill to windmill lubricating the gears and making repairs.

Because the windmill has been confined for the most part to remote areas, it has become a symbol of a lonely and primitive life, fitting for the pioneers it first served and the cowboys about whom we love to read.



Friday, November 26, 2021

FRANCIS MARION SMITH -- BORAX KING

By Caroline Clemmons

Francis Marion Smith may not be a household name, but you’ll recognize his contribution—Borax, which also became one of his nicknames along with Frank and the Borax King. He was born on February 2, 1846 in Richmond, Wisconsin. He graduated from Milton College in Wisconsin. The West called to him and he left home at the age of twenty-one. He traveled through Idaho, California, and Nevada, where he spent considerable time in mining. He settled for a while in Nevada. Another person mentioned in this article is his first wife, Mary “Mollie” Rebecca Smith, who also made contributions, and Frank's second wife, Evelyn Kate Ellis Smith, who continued the legacy.

Francis "Frank" Smith


In the late 1860s, Frank Smith was working under a contract with several ore mills near Columbus, Nevada, to locate and provide timber for mining camps. At Teel’s Marsh, he discovered a rich deposit of borax.  He had samples assayed and learned the ore was higher than any other known sources of borax. He staked several claims and launched his career as a borax miner.

Early partners were his brother Julius and two Storey brothers. They formed the Smith and Storey Brothers Borax Company. The four men established a borax works at the edge of the marsh to concentrate the borax crystals and separate them from dirt and other impurities. Later Frank Smith acquired the Storey brothers’ interest and the company name was changed to Smith Brothers Borax Company and later to Teel’s Marsh Borax Company. I wonder if the Storey brothers regretted selling. The Teel’s Marsh deposits soon became the world’s principal supply and remained so for many years.

Borax was first discovered in dry lake beds in Tibet and was imported via the Silk Road to the Arabian Peninsula in the 8th century. Frank Smith’s company brought borax to popularity with a variety of applications.

In 1875 there was an American financial depression. Even so, Frank Smith opened a retail store and office on New York’s Wall Street to expand the borax market. He advertised that borax would clean cashmere, cameos, and coral, keep milk and cream sweet, as well as prevent diphtheria, lung fever and kidney trouble. Gross exaggeration? His claims helped popularize borax as an additive.

Mary "Mollie" Smith


During this time, Frank Smith married Mary “Mollie” Wright of Brooklyn. In 1881, the couple moved to Oakland, California, where Frank invested in real estate. In 1884, Frank bought out Julius’ interests in their partnership. Frank never stopped operations at Teel’s Marsh, but developed interest in Death Valley, California. He worked with a renowned concrete engineer to design two new refineries for him. One was in West Alameda, California, and the other in Bayonne, New Jersey. The California refinery was recognized as the first structure of its kind built with reinforced concrete. (I am not ignoring the early Roman roads in Western Europe with their own type of reinforcement that are still usable today.)

In 1892, Frank and Mollie bought a summer home on Shelter Island, New York. Beginning with 42-acres that included a colonial-style home, they added to the house to give it 35 rooms. He purchased additional acreage until the home sat amid 435 acres. The Smiths called their new summer retreat Presdeleau. Just a tiny summer cabin get-away, right?

Presdeleau in 1900

In Oakland in 1895, Frank Smith and Frank Havens formed the Realty Syndicate. In addition to buying real estate, they acquired and consolidated small independent transit companies to create a system of streetcar lines and rail extensions to subdivisions the company was developing.

Also in 1895, Frank and Mollie completed a mansion in Oakland, California. Mollie oversaw the planning of a 42-room home on a 53-acre hilltop east of Lake Merritt off of Park Boulevard. Called Arbor Villa, the house had a ballroom and a bowling alley. Mollie and Frank often opened both their homes for charity-raising events. In 1896, Mollie hired Evelyn Kate Ellis, one of the girls she had helped through her charity work, as her personal assistant.

Arbor Villa


Ah, the life of the rich and famous! From June through October, the family with their Chinese staff and maids would board their private railroad car and an additional Pullman at Oakland and travel to Jersey City. From their they transferred to the Smith’s personal steam yacht and traveled down Long Island Sound to Smith’s Cove, where they stepped ashore at Presdeleau. Their girls, including Charlotte Sperry who they adopted in 1895, Florence Nightingale, and Mollie’s secretary Kate Ellis.

In the meantime, Mollie was still actively pursuing her charity work for orphaned girls and wished to expand. Frank gave her 30 acres of land, which she converted into the Mary R. Smith Trust and built thirteen cottages to house orphaned girls. Governed by a board of trustees by the women of the First Congregational Church, the first cottages were built in 1901. The cottages housed girls from the ages of four to twenty-five in need of a home, and girls were allowed to stay as long as necessary. Each cottage had a house mother selected by Mollie. Girls were taught to make most of their own clothes and help with housework. They attended public schools and many attended college.

Mollie died of a stroke on December 31, 1905. A year and a half later, Frank married Evelyn Kate Ellis, who had been Mollie’s secretary. Molly had requested Frank marry Evelyn if she preceded him in death. Over the next six years, the couple had four children. I wonder how Evelyn felt about the marriage that was Mollie’s legacy.

Evelyn Kate Ellis Smith

By 1928, Frank began to suffer a series of small strokes and was forced to retire. His manager was John Sherman, who took over—aided by Evelyn and her younger brother, George C. Ellis. Frank and Evelyn moved from their Oakland mansion to a smaller home across Lake Merritt in the Adams Point neighborhood. By 1930, Frank had lost the ability to speak, though his mind appeared clear. On August 27, 1931, Frank died and is buried in Oakland’s Mountain View Cemetery.

Frank and Evelyn and children

In 1932, Evelyn took over as president of West End Chemical. Several years later, she turned it over to her brother, George. When the State of California took over providing for orphans, the funds in the Mary R. Smith Trust were redirected toward providing nursing education for qualified young women. Evelyn died in California in October 2002.


How man of you know what 20 Mule Team Borax is? I remember being fascinated by an old television commercial showing a large wagon pulled by twenty mule teams, the method by which borax was originally hauled out of the California and Nevada deserts. I think the show was “Death Valley Days”, but I’m not certain. I couldn’t imagine anything heavy enough to warrant that many animals. Recently, my husband found a fascinating YouTube video featuring a man who built such a wagon and the harnesses for that many animals. That made me wonder how much demand there is for borax and what it’s used for besides adding to older-style laundry detergent.

In 1877, Frank Smith founded the settlement of Marietta, Nevada, from which he shipped borax in a 30-ton load using two large wagons and a third wagon for food and water drawn by a 24-mule team for the 160 mile trip across the Great Basin Desert. The trip ended at Wadsworth, Nevada, where the nearest Central Pacific Railroad siding was located.

20-mule team in Death Valley

According to Wikipedia:

"The twenty-mule-team wagons were designed to carry 10 short tons (9.1 t) of borax ore at a time. The rear wheels measured seven feet (2.1 m) high, with tires made of 1-inch-thick (25 mm) iron. The wagon beds measured 16 feet (4.9 m) long and were 6 feet (1.8 m) deep; constructed of solid oak, they weighed 7,800 pounds (3,500 kg) empty; when loaded with ore, the total weight of the mule train was 73,200 pounds (33,200 kg; 36.6 short tons).

The first wagon was the trailer, the second was "the tender" or the "back action", and the tank wagon brought up the rear.

With the mules, the caravan stretched over 180 feet (55 m). Due to their rugged construction, no wagon ever broke down in transit on the desert.

A 1,200-US-gallon (4,500 l) water tank was added to supply the mules with water en route. There were water barrels on the wagons for the teamster and the swamper. Water supplies were refilled at springs along the way, as it was not possible to carry enough water for the entire trip. The tank water was used at dry camps and water stops.

The June 1940 issue of Desert Magazine confirms that the primary water tank was 1200 U.S. gallons. This detail is also given in "The History Behind the Scale Model".

An efficient system of dispersing feed and water along the road was put in use. Teams outbound from Mojave, pulling empty wagons, hauled their own feed and supplies, which were dropped off at successive camps as the outfit traveled. The supplies would be on hand to use when a loaded wagon came back the other way, and no payload space was wasted. There was one stretch of road where a 500-US-gallon (1,900 l) wagon was added to take water to a dry camp for the team that would be coming from the opposite direction. The arriving team would use the water and take the empty tank back to the spring on their haul the next day, ready for re-filling and staging by the next outbound outfit.

The teams hauled more than 20 million pounds (9,100 t) of borax out of Death Valley in the six years of the operation. Pacific Coast Borax began shipping their borax by train in 1898."

Display at the Harmony Works Desert Museum

Borax is a component of many detergents, cosmetics and enamel glazes. Additional uses include to make buffer solutions in biochemistry, as a fire retardant, in an anti-fungal compound, in manufacture of fiberglass, as a flux in metallurgy, neutron-capture shields for radioactive sources, a texturing agent in cooking, a cross-linking agent in Slime, as an alkali in photographic developers, and as a precursor for other boron compounds.

Warning! Borox is also an insecticide along with boric acid. Because our family has immune problems, we have to avoid insecticide sprays. We use boric acid in hidden places to discourage bugs which are abundant in the South. CAREFUL! Don’t use this where pets (especially cats) can get it on their pads and fur because it’s harmful when they lick it clean and ingest it!

Borax is banned in foods in most countries but is found in noodles from China and Indonesia—even though those countries have the ban. There are mixed reports of the danger. Some say prolonged ingestion causes liver cancer, others say it is safe. 

Borax, also known as sodiumborate, sodium tetroborate, and disodium tetraborate is an important boron compound, a mineral, and a salt of boric acid. Powdered borax is white, consisting of soft, colorless crystals that dissolve in water. Commercially sold borax is partially dehydtrated.

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Here you have examples of how men and women of great wealth have made life better for the rest of us. Through his hard work, clever investments, ingenuity and philanthropy, Frank Marion Smith aided our life in a myriad of ways. Mary Rebecca “Mollie” Smith aided many lives through her charitable work and Evelyn Ellis Smith continued that mission.

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Sources:

https://jg-tc.com/people/little-known-characters-in-america-francis-marion-smith/article_953efaf6-f1b0-56e3-97e1-d3cbe9aebd56.html

https://www.legendsofamerica.com/ca-francissmith/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borax

http://www.goldfieldhistoricalsociety.com/francis-marion-smith/