THE FLY GIRLS -- THE WASP

For this Memorial Day weekend post, I’m sharing the Fly Girls, the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASP) and their home in the only all-woman air base ever, Avenger Field in Sweetwater, Texas. Theirs is, to me, an amazing story.

As a celebration, I’m giving away a set of the e-books for my Texas Time Travel trilogy to one commenter, which includes TEXAS STORM, in which a WASP is sent forward from 1943 to today.

Back to the WASPs and their story.

After a great deal of political positioning, backstabbing, and juggling which I’m sure you don’t want to hear, the new women’s ferrying group was assigned to Avenger Field in Sweetwater, Texas. Sweetwater is the home of many very nice people as well as rattlesnakes, tarantulas, black widows, and scorpions with dusty winds, a huge cotton compress, and high temperatures in summer and low temperatures in winter. I grew up in West Texas, so I take those things for granted.

I wonder what the women arriving from more temperate and picturesque locales thought when they first saw their new home. For instance, since the mid twentieth century, Sweetwater has been home to the world’s largest annual Rattlesnake Roundup. (Yes, I shuddered when I wrote this.) Although the roundup didn’t become official until later, those rattlers were around when the WASP were.

Even though each WASP had a pilot’s license, she was trained to fly "the Army way" by the U.S. Army Air Forces. More than 25,000 women applied for the WASP and 1,830 were accepted into the program. You can see that being accepted into the program was quite an honor.

Start of the WASP Program

The women pilots were required to pay their own way there and the return fare if they washed out; they also had to pay for their room and board. The WASPs were treated as much as possible like male cadets. They marched wherever they went and lived in barracks.

Elizabeth  L. Gardiner at
controls of a B-26 Marauder

The WASP program began on a civilian basis because it was an experiment. While the women fliers functioned in the military, they lived under civilian law. They did not receive government insurance, and hospitalization for sickness or illness was difficult to work out.

WASP Barracks 

The women were assigned six to a room divided by a bathroom and a room with six bunks on the other side. Twelve women sharing one bathroom may sound like a nightmare. Remember, this was at a time in history when most homes had only one bathroom and many still had only an outhouse. The bathrooms did have two toilets and four sinks as well as an open shower space (no privacy). In addition to their bunk, they had a small locker-like closet, a library-table desk, and a chair.

They received approximately 210 hours of flying time, about equally divided between PT-17s, BT-13s and AT-6s. Approximately 285 hours were devoted to ground school instruction. The training period lasted seven months.

Wearing her "zoot" suit coveralls over
her uniform and with her parachute
strapped to her, helmet on head, a
manikin poses for museum visitors.

Graduates of Avenger Field went on to flying assignments throughout the United States. They ferried 12,650 planes of seventy-seven different types, including B-17s. Fifty percent of the fighter planes manufactured were ferried by WASPs. After proving themselves as ferry pilots, they towed targets, flew tracking, smoke-laying, searchlight, strafing, and simulated bombing missions, gave instrument instruction, and tested damaged airplanes, a dangerous task.

Following training, the WASP were stationed at 122 air bases across the U.S. assuming numerous flight-related missions, and relieving male pilots for combat duty. They flew 60,000,000 miles—yes that’s sixty million miles—of operational flights from aircraft factories to ports of embarkation and military training bases. They also towed targets for live anti-aircraft artillery practice, simulated strafing missions, and transported cargo.

Women in these roles flew almost every type of aircraft flown by the USAAF during World War II. In addition, a few exceptionally qualified women were allowed to test rocket-propelled planes, to pilot jet-propelled planes, and to work with radar-controlled targets. 

Many had been pilots before the war and loved flying (as the heroine in my book). Her first and last names are after two of the thirty-eight women WASP who died in the program. Eleven died during training and twenty-seven on active duty missions. Although these women loved flying and were patriotic, this was not a game.

Frances Green, Margaret "Peg" Kirchner,
Ann Waldner, and Blanche Osborn

Because they were not considered part of the military, a fallen WASP was sent home at family expense. If her family could not afford the expense, other WASP chipped in to send their fallen comrade home. Traditional military honors or notes of heroism, such as allowing the U. S. flag to be displayed on the coffin or a service flag in a window were not allowed.

After completing their months of military flight training, 1,074 of them earned their wings and became the first women to fly American military aircraft. While the WASP were not trained for combat, their course of instruction was essentially the same as male aviation cadets. The WASP thus received no gunnery training and very little formation flying and aerobatics but went through the maneuvers necessary to be able to recover from any position. The percentage of trainees eliminated compared favorably with the elimination rates for male cadets in the Central Flying Training Command.

When the B-29 Flying Fortress was being tested and crashed several times due to an engine fire, it spooked most pilots from flying in the plane. In fact, many refused, something I didn't realize was possible without severe punishment. Lt. Col. Paul W. Tibbets was assigned to get this plane flying. To show the men the plane was safe and reliable, Tibbets recruited two of the WASP to fly the four engine B-29, Dorothea “DiDi” Moorman and Dora Dougherty. Instead of the regular six months training plus two years toward an Aeronautical Engineer degree, DiDi and Dora had three days to get ready for their demonstration. Of course, the two women had already qualified as WASP and had ferried numerous types of planes.

Tibbets did not inform the women about the engine’s fire problem. On one of the training flights, the engine caught fire and filled the cockpit with smoke. Dora didn’t hesitate for a second and instructed her male flight engineer to feather #3 and pull the fire extinguisher. Handling the emergency by the book, she got the fire out and, with the remaining three engines turning, landed the plane safely.

Tibbets' plan was a resounding success. The WASP convinced their male counterparts that the B-29 was safe and reliable provided it was managed properly. The men stopped complaining. For those of you who don’t know, it was Lt. Col. Paul W. Tibbets who piloted the Enola Gay (named after his mother) to drop the atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan.

The B-29 known as the Flying Fortress,
The Enola Gay

In 1944, WASP members at Maxwell Air Field founded the Order of Fifinella organization. Earlier, Fifinella had been designed by Disney and gifted to women pilots. The organization's initial goals were to help the former WASP members find employment and maintain contact between themselves. Through the years, the Order of Fifinella issued newsletters, helped influence legislation and organized reunions. The group held its final meeting in 2008 and was disbanded in 2009.

Fifinella

The records of the WASP program were classified and sealed for 35 years, making their contributions to the war effort little known and inaccessible to historians. In 1975. under the leadership of Col. Bruce Arnold along with the surviving WASP members organized as a group again and began what they called the "Battle of Congress". Their goal was to gain public support and have the WASP officially recognized as veterans of World War II.

Statue of Fifinella
at Avenger Field Museum

In 1977 the records were unsealed after an Air Force press release erroneously stated the Air Force was training the first women to fly military aircraft for the U.S. The documents were compiled that showed during their service WASP members were subject to military discipline, assigned top secret missions, and many members were awarded service ribbons after their units were disbanded. 

It was also shown that WASP member Helen Porter had been issued an Honorable Discharge certificate by her commanding officer following her service. This time, the WASP lobbied Congress with the important support of Senator Barry Goldwater, who himself had been a World War II ferry pilot in the 27th Ferrying Squadron. During hearings on the legislation, opposition to the WASP members being given military recognition was voiced by the Veterans Administration, the American Legion, and the Veterans of Foreign Wars. I don't know why these groups disapproved but can only guess it's because the WASP did not go into battle.

President Barack Obama signing the bill for 
the Congressional Gold Medal paperwork

On July 1, 2009 President Barack Obama and the United States Congress awarded the WASP the Congressional Gold Medal. Three of the roughly 300 surviving WASPs were on hand to witness the event. During the ceremony President Obama said, "The Women Airforce Service Pilots courageously answered their country's call in a time of need while blazing a trail for the brave women who have given and continue to give so much in service to this nation since. Every American should be grateful for their service, and I am honored to sign this bill to finally give them some of the hard-earned recognition they deserve." 

Madge Moore, WASP

On May 10, 2010, the 300 surviving WASPs came to the US Capitol to accept the Congressional Gold Medal from House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and other Congressional leaders. On New Year's Day in 2014 the Rose Parade featured a float with eight WASP members riding on it.

Ladies, thank you for your service. Thank you to all who served your country!

Sources:

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

https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/qpw01

https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/qcs01

http://waspmuseum.org/ Sarah Byrn Rickman

Fly Girls, by P. O’Connell Pearson, Simon and Schuster

WASP of the Ferry Command, by Sarah Byrn Rickman, UNT Press

Now, about my book in which a WASP, Jeannie Luttrell, is forced to parachute from her plane in a storm in 1943 and lands in 2018: TEXAS STORM, book 3 of the Texas Time Travel trilogy is now available from Amazon. The trilogy starts with TEXAS LIGHTNING, in which Penelope Jane "Penny" Terry comes forward from 1896. In the second book, TEXAS RAINBOW, Eleanore "Ellie" St. Eaves comes forward from 1921. The three books involve men from the Knight family, handsome and wealthy brothers Jake and Bart and their cousin Caleb. Click on each title above to be taken to the purchase link. These books have received great response from readers.

Review for The Gift of the Inn—A WWII Christmas Story—ebook give-a-way

Golden Keys Parsons was my critique partner, a dear friend, and teacher. She was taken from her family and friends in February 2017 in a car accident on I-35 in Waco, Texas. The Gift of the Inn was her last book, and I'd like to share it with the readers of Sweethearts of the West.

Despite her best efforts to go through the motions and the good fortune to have a husband stationed stateside rather than in the midst of the brutal combat unfolding in Europe and the Pacific, Christmas Eve is a less than festive time for innkeeper Naomi Lockhart. It's been especially hard since she, her husband, Quenton, and their daughters restored her parents' Colorado boarding house and turned it into a charming inn. Residing in the setting of the tragedy and haunted by a heartbreaking and terrible loss, Naomi can't help but relive the Christmas Eve so many years ago when her infant child disappeared without a trace. 

Gracie brushed aside comments about how little she resembled her parents for most of her life without really understanding why they made her feel so odd. A slip of the tongue by her grandmother brings the discovery that the people who raised her are not her birth parents and acts as a catalyst for the start of a search for her real identity. After a whirlwind romance with a young, Europe-bound GI and subsequent elopement in defiance of her affluent, traditional parents, Gracie flees Texas for Colorado, following one of the few clues that she has about her real identity. She finds herself alone and working as a waitress in blizzard-prone Colorado Springs, Colorado at the end of her pregnancy. Snow bound, she struggles to bring her child into the world as she becomes ever more confident that the innkeeper from across the road, who acts as a midwife of necessity, may hold the answers she seeks. 

Meanwhile, her wounded husband desperately tries to reach her side. Set against the backdrop of the Second World War, this final novel from beloved writer Golden Keyes Parsons is an engaging story of love, loss and reunion.

My thoughts on this book. I love this book! Yes,  Golden was my good friend, but The Gift of the Inn also endeared me to a different time in life and our history. Like myself, Golden lived in the post WWII years and grew up with many of the same experiences as those detailed in the book. Golden's characters and descriptions drew me in, and I was in my childhood again trying to walk against the deep and blowing snow while we were in Stephenville, Newfoundland. Being a Texan, I recognized the San Antonio streets and landmarks where Gracie and her friends gathered. 

Golden's research for this book is top notch. I learned so much about bombardiers, the conditions during flight, and how the French resistance helped American soldiers trapped behind enemy lines. I highly recommend this book.

Drawing:  Friday evening I will pick a winner from the comments to receive an e-copy of The Gift of the Inn. To be eligible leave a comment with your email address or just your email address.

Happy Reading and Writing.

Linda LaRoque
www.lindalaroque.com

Sand Pounders of WWII

I don't know how I chanced upon this topic—"Sand Pounders." But, it intrigued me. I couldn't imagine what the term referred to until I read the article. Then it all made sense, and I thought what a great topic for a blog post or for a novel.

After Pearl Harbor, the security of our beaches became a concern. However, even before Pearl Harbor, the beach patrol was set into motion.

"On Feb. 3, 1941, all coastal areas of the United States were organized into defense divisions known as Naval Coastal Frontiers. Then on Nov. 1, 1941, under Executive Order No. 8929, the Coast Guard was transferred to the Navy for the duration of what would soon become, for the U.S., World War II."

The Army handled land defense, the Navy would handle the offshore patrols, and the Coast Guard would handle beach patrol.

They had had three basic functions:

"*To detect and observe enemy vessels operating in coastal waters and to transmit information on these craft to the appropriate Navy and Army commands;

*To report attempts of landings by the enemy and to assist in preventing landings;

*Prevent communication between persons on shore and the enemy at sea."

In the first months of the war, patrols were handled much as they were during peacetime—one man armed with flares.

Warnings about enemy landings from the FBI were issued, but weren't taken seriously.  One incident in June of 1942 changed the Coast Guard's thinking. On June 13, 1942 the U-202 surfaced off the coast of Long Island, N.Y. Four Nazi agents came ashore in a rubber raft with the intention of striking  key U.S. factories and railroads. They changed from their uniforms into civilian clothing.

While making his six-mile patrol, 21 year-old John Cullen, Seaman 2nd Class saw someone walk out of the fog. He ordered the man to identify himself, the stranger said he was George Davis and that their fishing boat had run aground. Cullen could see the other agents dimly in the fog. One called out something in a foreign language. Suspicious, Cullen suggested they accompany him to the Coast Guard station. Davis then offered Cullen $300 to forget he'd seen anything.

At the station, Boatswain's Mate Carl R. Jenette listened incredulously to the story. They returned to the scene to find the agents were gone, but they could smell diesel oil offshore and hear the throbbing of an engine. The U-202 was trying to free itself. They could also see a blinker light. They hid behind a dune to prevent being shelled.

The next morning they returned to find to find buried explosives and incendiary devices.

The beach patrol served as a coastal information system.

Certain area of the beach were dangerous to walk so boat and motor patrols were established. Foot patrols required men to travel in pairs. They carried rifles, or sidearms and flare pistols. Distances covered were usually two miles or less as they had to report in by telephone boxes placed three quarter miles apart.

In 1942, dogs were added to beach patrols. Their keen sense of smell and ability to guard made them valuable additions. The dogs were fitted with canvas boots to protect their paws from sea coral and seashells.

When the dogs came into use, the two man teams were replaced with canine patrols. The length of their patrol was about a mile. The dogs saved their handlers lives on numerous occasions. One guardsman almost walked off a cliff, another passed out. His dog ran for help and
saved him from hypothermia.

By late 1942, horses began to arrive. "... recruits were drawn largely from the Midwest and from east of the Cascades—horse country." Oregon beaches were not easy to cover by walking.

"Pairs of Coast Guard guys, both packing .38 revolvers and Raising M50 submachine guns, usually mounted, one with a backpack radio transmitter — doggedly making their way along the beach in the teeth of every kind of weather the Oregon Coast can supply, eyes peeled for any sign of Japanese marauders."

As to the Sand Pounders success, it's hard to say. Though they never stopped an invasion, the people of Oregon were comforted by their presence as people in others areas of the U.S. were also.

"But, it's possible that the Sand Pounders had won their fight before they even suited up." The incident mentioned earlier about the Nazi saboteurs on Long Island, their capture and convictions must have sent a loud message back to the Axis Powers. "...the American home front was not going to be an easy target."

There are many articles on the Internet about the Sand Pounders. I could only report on a small portion of their activities here.

Thank you for stopping by Sweethearts of the West. If you're not following us, please do. We have interesting posts every two days. Most of them are on the old west, though some of us vary off subject from time to time.

Thanks to the following references:
http://offbeatoregon.com/1503c.sand-pounders-uscg-ww2-330.html
https://www.horse-canada.com/horses-and-history/the-sand-pounders-the-u-s-coast-guard-mounted-patrol/
http://k9history.com/WWII-uscg-beach-patrols.htm
Google Images

Happy Reading and Writing,
www.lindalaroque.com

FLYING COWBOYS: EARLY SMOKEJUMPERS

This month I thought I’d veer off the trail of cowboys, sheepherders, and gunslinging desperados. I’ve decided to focus on a different hero of the West, the ones who fall from the sky and fight fires…the smokejumper.

In 1918, Henry S. Graves, the Chief Forester for the U.S. Forest Service, contacted the Chief of the Army Air Service (Army Air Corps), inquiring about the possibility of cooperating with the Forest Service to provide aerial fire detection over forests in the Western states.

The first aerial patrols were conducted on June 1, 1919 over the Angeles Forest in California. The Missoula Sentinel out of Missoula, Montana reported in May of 1919 “…This will be the beginning of experimental work in which the adaptability of aircraft to forest patrol work is to be tried out thoroughly. If the tests prove as successful as it is thought that they will be, it is expected that the airplane patrols will be extended before the end of the 1919 season and that airplanes will become a permanent feature of the forest service forces." 

These first trials proved successful and in 1925, aerial flight patrols started in Region 1 (Montana, Idaho, and eastern Washington at the time).  The Spokane Chronicle, June 25th, 1925, said: "Lieutenant Nick B. Mamer of Spokane today received appointment as forest fire patrol pilot for eastern Washington, northern Idaho and western Montana. He will leave Spokane tomorrow night for Rockwell Field, San Diego, to get his Liberty-motored deHaviland Airplane which will be used on the patrol..." Nick Mamer was already a legendary pilot coming out of WWI.  He later established the Mamer Flying Service and Mamer Air Transport firms in Spokane.

From 1925-1935, Forest Inspector Howard R. Flint and Nick Mamer were instrumental in the pioneering of aerial activities in the Northern Rocky Mountain Region until Mamer’s untimely death in a plane crash. 

During the early years of aerial reconnaissance in the Forest Service, many began examining the possibility of dropping firefighters in by parachute.  A formal proposal was made in 1934, but Forest Service officials were not impressed. In 1935, the Aerial Fire Control Experimental Project in California experimented with dropping water and chemicals on wildland fires.  While these initial drops proved unsuccessful, they made delivery of cargo by parachute possible and helped set the stage for experiments in parachute jumping.

 

By 1939, the Aerial Fire Control Experimental Project was moved to Winthrop, Washington, where the balance of funds shifted to carrying out parachute jumping experiments. The Forest Service prepared a contract providing for parachutes, protective clothing, and the services of professional riggers and parachutists.

Montana Smokejumper descends into fire

After a series of experimental jumps, in the summer of 1940 the U.S. Forest Service Smokejumper Project became fully operational. Six smokejumpers were based at Winthrop, and seven at Moose Creek Ranger Station in Idaho. Two of the smokejumpers from Moose Creek made the first operational jump on the Nez Perce National Forest in Idaho. Eight more jumps were made during the 1940 fire season.

When U.S. Army Major William Lee (the father of airborne troops) witnessed smokejumper training in Montana, he incorporated many smokejumper techniques into the Army Airborne doctrine.

The entire project, consisting of 26 jumpers, was relocated to Missoula, Montana in 1941. This was an economical decision, basing all smokejumpers in one location made more sense than maintaining multiple and widely scattered facilities. Missoula was chosen because it was home to the Johnson’s Flying Service, who supplied smokejumpers with aircraft and pilots.

Early smokejumpers with equipment

As it did with so many things, World War II, interrupted and changed the smokejumper service.  With the United States entry into the war, by the summer of 1942 the number of qualified smokejumpers had been greatly depleted. By 1943, only five jumpers were available.  This problem was solved when the smokejumper program turned to the Civilian Public Service, an organization made up of conscientious objectors. Seventy members of the CPS were trained as smokejumpers and the use of CPS personnel continued through 1944.

A threat to the Western forests by Japanese fire balloons rose in 1945. Members of the U.S. Army’s All-Black 555^th Parachute Infantry Battalion were trained in timber jumping and firefighting to combat this threat. The threat did not materialize, but the members of the battalion were used as suppression crews on the large fires of that season.

Member of 555th Parachute Infantry Battalion preparing to jump into fire

On August 4, 1949, a 5,000 acre forest fire near Helena, Montana changed the way the Forest Service would fight fires, and leave the smokejumpers scarred.

The Mann Gulch fire was started by lightning during a particularly dry season. A fire thought to be only a few acres, blew up to 3,000 acres in ten minutes. Sixteen smokejumpers had jumped into the location only to be hunted by a fire with flames estimated at fifty feet high and moving fifty yards every ten seconds. Added to this was the terrible loss of their communication equipment during the cargo drop, leaving the jumpers without a way to contact the outside world. They attempted to make it to a ridgetop, but the fire caught up to them.

Members of NFS carry out victims of Mann Gulch fire

Thirteen brave men were lost, the largest single loss of life due to fire the Forest Service experienced until the loss of nineteen in a fire in Arizona in 2013.

The smokejumper program continued to grow through the 1950s, and new bases were established at Grangeville, Idaho; West Yellowstone, Montana; Silver City, New Mexico; and Redding, California.  In 1959, the BLM established a base in Fairbanks, Alaska, the first base not under the Forest Service management.

 This is just a small glimpse of the proud history of these elite firefighters.  I have a new contemporary series releasing this month, 4 Marines For History, and one of the heroines is a smokejumper and the heroes are members of a hotshot crew. While conducting research, I had the opportunity to meet with a few smokejumpers who offered more information than I needed for this series. So, coming in 2017, I will be writing a spinoff series focusing on smokejumpers and hotshots. I’m also planning a historical series featuring those first brave men who decided to fight fire by attacking it from the sky. 

Thanks so much for stopping by!  

 

Kirsten Lynn is a Western and Military Historian. She worked six years with a Navy non-profit and continues to contract with the Marine Corps History Division for certain projects. Making her home where her roots were sewn in Wyoming, Kirsten also works as a local historian. She loves to use the history she has learned and add it to a great love story. She writes stories about men of uncommon valor…women with undaunted courage…love of unwavering devotion …and romance with unending sizzle. When she’s not writing, she finds inspiration in day trips through the Bighorn Mountains, binge reading and watching sappy old movies, or sappy new movies.

A Minnesota Yankee with Southern Roots

By: Lyn Horner
Writing about myself is not my favorite thing to do. I'd much rather write about the characters running around in my head, but September is "Talk About Yourself" month, so here's my story.

George, Sylvia & baby Me



I was born in San Francisco, California. My parents met there during the war -- the Big One. Daddy was a cook and Mama was a waitress in the same restaurant. They dated only three months before marrying. Both had been married once before. My mother was eight years older than my dad. They both grew up on a farm, she in Minnesota, he in North Texas.

As a young woman, Mama worked as a housemaid in Minneapolis. Later, she contracted TB and spent three years in a sanatorium. She was a beautiful woman but grew up in a very old-country atmosphere. (Her grandparents emigrated from Bohemia in the later half of the 19th century.) She only had an eighth grade education and was rather unworldly. Even so, she packed up and headed west with a friend after her first marriage broke up. I think she had a taste from adventure.

My dad was definitely an adventurer. A Texan with southern roots that trace back to colonial times, he was one of thirteen siblings. He left home during the Great Depression at the age of seventeen to get away from his dictatorial father. Despite being handicapped with a neuromuscular disorder, he traveled all over the American West, working as a page in the Texas Legislature, picking fruit in Arizona, cooking and working as a door-to-door salesman in California and the Northwest. He could not join the armed services during WWII because of his handicap, but did do one stint in the Merchant Marines as a cook. Later, he worked at the Dixon Gun Plant in Texas, before returning to California.

Lyn, age 4 -- in Minnesota



When I was four years old, we moved to Minnesota so Mama could be near her family. We settled in Minneapolis, where I grew up. My dad worked for the University of Minnesota as an office supervisor in the alumni department for several years. After that, he floated from one job to another, sometimes working in sales, other times as a cook. Once I was in school, Mama went back to waitressing.

My childhood was not the greatest, mainly because my parents had serious marital problems. Mama was clinically paranoid. She thought everyone was talking about her behind her back and accused my dad of cheating on her -- constantly. He had her committed to a mental hospital twice. It did no good. When I was a senior in high school, he finally moved out.

Meanwhile, I was diagnosed at age nine with the same hereditary disorder my dad suffered from. It runs back several generations in his mother's family. By the time I was in junior high my ankles had grown weak and I walked with a noticeable limp. Other kids teased me and I became more and more introverted. My only escape was in schoolwork, at which I excelled, and in books and TV. Daddy got me hooked on westerns early. He also fostered my interest in art, giving me a beginner's oil painting kit when I was in fifth grade.

When high school came along, I had no friends and thought no boy would ever want to date me. Thank God, my dad got me some counselling. I forced myself to reach out to a few other girls and started to attend football, basketball and hockey games with them. In my senior year, one of my girlfriends egged me into asking her boyfriend's best friend to a girl ask boy dance. It was called the Sweetheart Swirl. The guy said yes! That same night he invited me to be his date for the senior prom. I was in seventh heaven! And that's how I started dating my future husband, Ken.

Ken and me at the Como Zoo Conservatory, Staint Paul, MN, about 1966

We dated all the way through college. I attended the Minneapolis School of Art (now the Mpls. College of Art and Design) majoring in fashion design, mainly because I wanted to study fashion illustration, a small part of the course. Ken went to the U of M and business college. We got married about six weeks after I graduated. The next day, my dad headed home to Texas, where he lived the rest of his life. He and my mother never legally divorced.

Wedding day, cutting the cake



After we returned from our honeymoon in the Grand Tetons, Ken returned to college for a few more months while I went job hunting. Over the next few years, I worked at two different department stores in their advertising departments. I was a finishing artist, drawing fashion accessories, clothes and toiletries. After that, I worked as an art instructor for Art Instruction Schools. Do you remember their "Draw Me" heads? They used to run in TV Guide.



Mama, me & one of many cats to occupy our home(s.) Purple anyone?



Ken worked first for a CPA firm and later for a large corporation in accounting and management. He would be transferred three times from location to location in the central time zone, eventually bringing us to the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex, where we have lived since December, 1986. I quit work when we made our first move, to the Chicago area, and stayed home to raise our two children. Shortly before that move, my dad drove up from Texas to visit us.

 

Daddy with me & the children, Dan and Carrie



Once Dan and Carrie were both in school, I got more serious about writing, a hobby I took up when they were small, needing a creative outlet. Around the mid-90s I finished a rough draft of my first novel. It was very rough and went through many revisions. I joined Romance Writers of America and North Texas Romance Writers, and signed on with two different agents (not at the same time.) Sadly, neither managed to sell my "masterpiece."

For the next several years I became involved with my children's extracurricular activities, particularly the band parents club. Probably too involved. I mean, it became like a full time job! But, oh, how Ken and I loved riding the buses with the band kids and cheering for them during their halftime shows. We also made dear friends we've remained close to ever since.

As you can imagine, writing took a back seat during that period. I did manage to write a memoir titled Six Cats In My Kitchen, now available for Kindle. It's full of family photos and offers a candid view of life with a half dozen feisty felines -- and a disability.

In 2010, I published Darlin' Irish (originally Darlin' Druid) -- the first in my western/paranormal Texas Devlins series. Since then I have written and published three more books in that series, plus two combo sets. Now I am at work on a romantic suspense series with my trademark touch of psychic phenomena.

Just a few days ago I republished White Witch, Texas Devlins Book One (the prequel novella) with a bit more content and a dramatic new cover created by Charlene Raddon. You can see more of her work at http://coverops.blogspot.com .

 

 

Book Excerpt: 

Chicago; August 1871

Jessie hiked up her skirts and stepped into the cool water of Lake Michigan, wading out until the gentle waves lapped at her knees. It felt wonderful on her sweaty skin. She wished she could immerse her whole body but didn’t relish walking home in sopping wet clothes.

“Jess, you’d best be careful,” her brother Tye called from a few feet away. “There could be a drop-off.”

“I know. I’ll not go any farther out. And take your own advice, brother dear.” She glanced at him enviously. Having stripped away his shirt and rolled up his pant legs, he was splashing water on his chest, not the least bit concerned about getting his trousers wet.

“Aye, I will, although I’m a fair swimmer, unlike you.” He grinned at her mischievously. “In case ye haven’t noticed, I’m not burdened by a skirt and petticoats either.”

“Humph! Go ahead and get your trousers soaked. Doubtless you’ll enjoy being ogled by every woman we pass on our way home, ye wicked devil.”

He laughed and sliced the water with the edge of his hand, sending a small geyser her way. It caught her in the face, causing her to shriek and duck away as droplets dampened the bodice of her worn gray gown.

“Don’t do that!” she scolded. “I don’t want to get all wet.” Wiping water from her eyes, she blinked several times to clear them. Once she was able to keep them open, she happened to glance into the distance across the lake . . . and froze.

The lake disappeared before her eyes, replaced by a burst of fire that soared high overhead, wringing a strangled cry from her lips. The fire turned into a hellish scene of flames leaping from building to building along a familiar street, a street filled with people running for their lives before the monstrous fire. It licked at the wooden paving block underfoot and at the walkways lining the thoroughfare.

Her view of the event shifted abruptly. Now she saw her family’s cottage going up in flames behind her as she was being whisked away.

“Nay, not our home!” she wailed without realizing she’d spoken. Then the scene changed again. Now she was looking toward the city from far across the lake, and what she saw made her scream in horror.