Effie Louella Carpenter Autobiography

Effie Louella Carpenter Autobiography

Feeling the urge and also the necessity of a record and brief history of the Carpenter family, I am attempting to write such a record as far as my memory will permit.

My maiden name was Effie Louella Carpenter. I was born 11 August 1888 at the little town of Santa Rosa, DeKalb County, Missouri. My mother’s maiden name was Mary Adaline Parker. She, as also were my only sister and I, was born within a half mile’s distance at Santa Rosa, Missouri. My mother was 19 years old and my father was 27 when they married. My father had lived with his mother, Mary Etherington Carpenter Cole, at Cameron, Missouri, for a number of years before their marriage. He met my mother while she was employed in his grandmother’s home as a housemaid. My father’s grandmother was Susan Etherington. One of my father’s uncles, James Etherington, also tried to win my mother’s hand in marriage, but the dashing young Carpenter was the lucky one.

My father, J.B. Carpenter, was a plasterer by trade, and he and my mother set up housekeeping in Pattonsburg, Missouri. Father never had much employment, and I have heard my courageous mother tell many times of the hardships she endured in her early days of married life. Their first child, my eldest brother, Charles Marion Carpenter, was born 13 months after they were married. He was born on 25 April 1884, at Pattonsburg, Missouri.

My mother was raised in a very well-to-do home. My grandfather, Joseph Henry Parker, was at one time considered one of the wealthiest farmers in Northwest Missouri. Mother always had to work very hard. She being the oldest girl and Grandma being ill most of the time, the task of doing the housework, milking cows, baking bread, and the heavy work fell her lot even though her father was wealthy.

My mother also had three sisters. Lucy Frances Parker was next to my mother. She married my father’s youngest brother, Charles Jerome Carpenter. Sarah Alice Parker and Rosa Lilly Florence Parker were the younger girls. Aunt Alice married George L. Green, a lawyer and school teacher. He was much older than she. He had been married three times before and had three former sets of children. He and aunt Alice had three children, Fred Green, Clarence Green and Ruth Alice Green. Rosa L.F. Parker, my mothers youngest sister, married Charles Vivian May, a young farmer at Mammoth Spring, Arkansas. Aunt Alice also married in Arkansas. Aunt Rosa had four children, Eddie May, her oldest boy died while yet a young child; then Nannie May, her next child was born; then another Mary, was born. Then John Baptist, her last child. They lived their entire lives about seven miles south of Mammoth Spring, Arkansas. Nannie married Dave Waits. John and Mary were also married, but I don’t know who they married. Uncle Charley May got hurt while working in the timber, and it seems it rather affected his mind, so he committed suicide. He was never a Christian so far as I have heard. However, aunt Rosa was always a fine devoted Christian woman, very extremely so. She had the idea that every time she did something that she felt like was wrong, she would go and be baptized for the remission of her sins.

Grandpa Parker never approved of Aunt Rosa’s and Uncle Charley’s marriage; therefore, he ever had anything to do with them. One day while Uncle Charley and Aunt Rosa were gone to town, Grandfather was seen leaving their home. When they got back, their home was in ashes. No one ever knew for certain, but it was always thought that Grandpa burned his youngest daughter’s home.

Grandpa was always a man with a revengeful nature which caused him much grief in his later life. After the death of my grandmother Parker, grandpa sold out in Missouri and moved to Mammoth Spring, Fulton County, Arkansas. There he met and married a Miss Sarah Jones. They had one son, Joseph Hiram. Grandpa had a good farm and practically made a living from a herd of cows. After Joey, as they called their son, was about sixteen years old, Grandpa got a frenzied idea in his head that there was relations going on between Joey and his own mother. This made Grandpa terribly furious so he ran Joey away from home. Joey was very young and had never been away from home, scarcely overnight, but somehow he managed to get to Uncle Ben Parker’s home at Lyons, Kansas. Grandpa never saw him again. Joey drifted to Steamboat Springs, Colorado, where he learned to be a barber. He got married and raised a family, so I heard.

Grandpa divorced his wife, sold his property and went to Hardin County, Kentucky, where he was born. There he married another woman but never lived with her very long. He was very miserable the balance of his life and drifted around from pillar to post, and finally died a pauper in the state asylum at St. Joseph, Missouri, at the age of 86 years. My mother, who was his best friend in this world, preceded him in death about seven years.

Aunt Lucy Parker, who married Uncle Charley Carpenter, Lived in Arkansas till all of their children except Martin, their baby, was grown, then they sold their farm in Arkansas and moved to St. Joseph, Missouri. Their children all came with them. Their names were: Willie Carpenter, who married Mary Luber, a German girl in Arkansas (they had five children, Lucy, Maymie, Alice, Ernest, who died when about two years old, and Floyd Carpenter. Willie died of an appendicitis operation when he was 35 years old. His children moved to Los Angeles, California and married out there. Uncle Charley’s next son, Clyde, married a widow with three young sons. Her name was Maggie Baker Cates. They never raised any family. The next was Rosetta Carpenter. She married an Arkansas man by the name of Ira Hobbs. They had a son, Morris Hobbs, also a daughter Thelma Mae. Morris was a very promising young man when he went hunting and accidentally discharged his gun and it struck his right arm, resulting in his arm being amputated at the shoulder. Morris was energetic, so he bought a new truck and has run a route for a bakery in St. Joseph, Missouri for many years. He married a young widow whose first name was Cleta, but they never made a go of it, so got divorced. Morris lives with his parents. Thelma Mae married Jimmie Gardner. She has one daughter, Phyllis. Ira and Rosetta also have an adopted daughter, Rosebud. Ira worked at Swift’s Packing House for 25 years but retired on a pension on account of ill health. Uncle Charley and aunt Lucy’s next daughter was Julia Catherine, who married Willis Coursen, from Arkansas. They had four boys. The oldest one died at birth. Next was Herman Coursen, who was stricken with diabetes when he was 13 years old and never grew any more except to get heavier. Herman learned to be a fine auto mechanic and his father built him a repair shop at the rear of their home, where he earns a good salary regardless of his handicap. The next son was Francis. When he was about 16 years old, Julia had another son, John. Willis also worked at Swift’s Packing House for years and finally retired on a pension due to ill health. The next in my uncle’s family was Orva. He married Miss Ethel Hutchings of St. Joseph, Missouri. Orva is an electrician and lives in Kansas City, Missouri. They have two girls, Lola Belle and Alberta, and one son, Charles. The next was Bessie Main Carpenter, who married Claude Hull, also an electrician. They had two sons, Marvin Lee and Claude Jr. The next child of Uncle Charley’s was Martin, their baby. He married Louanna Calkins. They had three children, two girls and a boy. Uncle Charley suffered a paralytic stroke three years previous to his death. He was retired on a pension of $30.00 per month. He died at his home at 226 Alabama St. on September 26, 1931 at the age of 65 years and is buried in Mount Auburn Cemetery at St. Joseph, Missouri. Aunt Lucy continued to live in their old home with Martin and Louanna till March 1939. She died then at the age of 72 years and was also buried at Mount Auburn Cemetery.

I will now say something of my father and mother’s families. My father was born in Utica, Fountain Co., Indiana on 11 November 1856. His name was James Buchanan Carpenter. He moved to Cameron, Missouri, with his father and mother and three brothers: Henry, the eldest boy, William Monroe, and Charles Jerome, and three sisters, Mattie Jane, Susan Catherine, and Molly. My father, James Buchanan Carpenter and my mother Mary Adaline Parker, were married 27 March 1883. They had six sons and two daughters. I will give their names and descriptions of each one, starting with my oldest brother and go on down the line. Charles Marion, the oldest was born 25 April 1884, at Pattonsburg, Daviess Co., Missouri, and lived at home till he was married on 12 November 1908. His wife was Myrtle Baker, daughter of Alvis Baker and wife of Richmond, Ray Co., Missouri. They never had any children. They lived together twelve years when Marion got killed by falling down an elevator shaft while working at the Swift and Co. Packing House. He was an oiler for the millwright gang and worked on the night shift. He took the elevator to the fourth floor and left it while he went to oil the machinery on that floor. We never did know for certain, but it was generally supposed that some one of the other employees took the elevator up another floor, and Marion must have walked into the open shaft, thinking the elevator was still there. His body was not recovered for several hours. Practically every bone in his body was broken. It was a sad and tragic death. He was only 36 years of age. Myrtle got about $2,200 for his death. He died on 28 May 1920. Myrtle married a widower named Frank Morris the October after Marion’s death in May.

Next in father’s family was Claude Oscar Carpenter. He was born 2 April 1886 at Starfield, Clinton Co., Missouri. Claude married Zalpha Adonia Brizendine on 2 May 1907 at Richmond, Ray, Missouri. Claude was 21 years of age and Zalpha was 16. They were married 4 years before they had any children. Their first child, Wiley Marvin was born 11 May 1912, at St. Joseph, Missouri. He was a pretty baby boy, and we were all so proud of him as he was the first grandchild in father’s family. My mother always called him her boy. Claude’s and Zalpha’s next child was a girl, Neva Temple, born 10 September 1914 at St. Joseph, Missouri. But first before I go on further, I will give a description of Wiley. He married when he was 20 years of age at St. Joe, Missouri, to Elsie Hahn. She was a dazzling blonde. They met while they were both employed at the State Hospital at St. Joe and after a whirlwind courtship they married. Shortly afterward they moved to Pueblo, Colorado. Wiley was manager in Herman’s Dry Goods Store for a while and afterwards worked as hydro-operator in the State Hospital in Pueblo. He and Elsie never got along very well in their married life, so finally moved back to St. Joe, Missouri, where their first child, Joan Marie, was born on 20 April, 1932. After she was born, Wiley and Elsie separated and Wiley went back to Colorado. Elsie got a divorce, then in January 1933, Wiley went back to St. Joe and he and Elsie were re-married. They again went back to Colorado but in about a year were back in St. Joe, where their little boy, Claude Edwin, was born. Wiley and Elsie parted ways again. He went to his mother’s home, and she and the two children went to her parent’s home. They again were divorced and about two years later, Wiley married Dorothy Etta Spoor on 29 February 1936. They shortly afterwards moved to Los Angeles, California to live, where their daughter Dolores Spoor Carpenter was born. Now to get back to Neva Temple, the next child to be born to Claude and Zalpha! She married Karl McKinstry, a young catholic fellow on 10 November 1934. They have one daughter, Mary Lee, born 16 February 1936. The next child was Kenneth Ralph, born 7 March 1918 at Wathena, Kansas. Kenneth was married to Lucille Sincklair in September after his 16th birthday in March. Kenny was only a mere boy and unable to give Lucille the home and luxuries she desired, so after living together a year they were divorced and Kenny married Audrey Davidson of Dodge City, Kansas, 9 May 1936 at St. Joe, Missouri by Elder Charles McConkie, a Mormon elder. Kenny and Audrey moved to Los Angeles, California in August 1937. Their son, Wayne Leroy was born 7 March 1938. He was born on Kenneth’s 20th birthday. Now I will tell a little about Claude and Zalpha. They and their three children were very well thought of in their neighborhood, and they lived strict lives. Would not even go to a picture show or wear a necktie or cut the hair of Zalpha and Temple as it was against their religious scruples. They gave Temple and Wiley a high school education and music lessons and they were about the most popular youngsters in their school. Zalpha worked and helped put the children through school. Claude and Zalpha always got along nicely in their home till another woman, Ann Boylan, came into his life. Claude and Ann had known each other all their lives and it had never dawned on them to fall in love when they were younger. But after a period of several years, perhaps 23 or 25 years without seeing each other, when they met again things began to happen. Claude left home – left Zalpha and the children alone. Kenneth was not yet through grade school, and never got to go to high school. Well, after about two years, Claude and Zalpha were divorced. Ann was also trying to get a divorce from her husband and she and Claude were married 6 January 1933 at Leavenworth, Kansas, and have lived in the rooms back of his filling station at Elwood, Kansas, ever since their marriage. (This is 1939). Next in their family was Effie Louella Carpenter (myself). My early life was not a pleasant one as it could have been. I was the oldest girl and Mother was not well, and I began to take the responsibilities of the home and also worked far harder than a young girl should ever have had to work. I had to milk cows and handle big old stubborn calves and things that were far beyond my strength. Also had to work in the corn fields and in the wintertime I had to go in the timber to work with my brothers. I and my younger brother Jim made a team with a cross-cut saw, sawing timber, cordwood, saw logs, and stove bolts. I also worked out in people’s homes doing their housework and all kinds of drudge work. I never had a chance to go to school. I believe one term of school was as much as I ever went altogether. A first and a fourth reader are all the school books I ever had bought for me. My father would be angry at me so often and would always threaten to make me quit school for all time to come, so when I was fifteen, I became completely broken-hearted and discouraged and quit school forever. I was born with a high spirit. I wanted so much with all my heart to make something out of myself and be somebody worthwhile, but I never got a chance. I wanted to learn to play a musical instrument of some kind and when I was earning the money to buy an organ with, and I wanted that organ more than I wanted anything in all the world, I was told I couldn’t have room to set it in the house at my parent’s home so I couldn’t have it. Perhaps I shouldn’t write this, bit it left a hurt in my heart that I can never forget although I don’t hold any ill feelings now against anyone for my wasted childhood and youth, yet I can’t forget it. I was never pretty, but I was a good girl and always went straight, and I was lively and had a sense of humor, so I had a lot of fun and was popular with my boy friends. I had some very nice young fellows. My first beaux was Harvey McAfee. He was my brother Marion’s boy friend too, and had to pretend he was coming to see Marion when he was really coming to see me, but had to keep Dad in the dark. He was a nice kid and later learned to be a barber at Gallatin, Missouri. We moved to Plattsburg, Missouri, and I lost my Harvey. My next steady fellow was Oscar Stutsman, and next John Kent. He was also Marion’s pal. He was a nice fellow, and was very much in love with me and begged me to marry him. But he was two years younger than I, so I couldn’t care for him as a lover, although afterwards I realized that I made a mistake in rejecting him. He turned out to be a fine man, husband and father. When I was working in a restaurant for Roy and Allie Blocker at Plattsburg, Missouri, I became acquainted with a young farmer, one of Allie’s cousins, by the name of John Newell of Osborn, Missouri. I went with him for a while and he was swell with me and wanted to marry me, but he was so good I got sick of him and turned him down. He later became a wealthy farmer. Then we moved from Plattsburg to Mammoth Springs, Arkansas. I had a good time in Arkansas. I worked for Aunt Alice Green in her home part of the time, also picked cotton and berries and worked in the peach packing orchards. I capped the prized among the fellows in the neighborhood. My first fellow was George Burrow, a young bachelor and pretty well to do, and I was crazy about him. We had a lot of good times together, but another girl beat my time and George married her. I, for once, cried over a boy when I found out he was married. Afterwards I was told he said he regretted he took her instead of me. It was not very long until I met my childhood sweetheart, George Elwell. He was a swell looking young fellow (tall, dark and handsome). My heart flopped over when I met him again and he was the same. He came to see me often, and before long I was promised to be George’s wife. We were so happy. But it was not to be. He was a chivalrous lover, but my folks again decided to move back to Missouri, so I parted with my George. He was to come after me Christmas, but he went down to Louisiana to work, and I went to Richmond, Missouri, and there met the man that was to become my husband, Joe Brizendine. He was Claude’s brother-in-law. He wanted to go with me but I was engaged to my George. But ‘ere long I started going with Joe, also went with Joe’s brother, Clarence Brizendine, bit I left Richmond and went to Lathrop, Missouri to work in a hotel, and Joe went to Oklahoma. We didn’t hear from each other for almost a year. He finally sent me a card and I answered it and he came back from Oklahoma and came to see me and we were soon engaged. Perhaps I’ve dwelt too long on the romances of my poor empty life, but it seemed I was born for misery and trouble. I will tell somewhat about my surroundings of my youth. My father’s home was so humble. We never had any of the comforts of life; often the bare necessities of life weren’t ours. We often lived in shacks of deplorable surroundings—sometimes no floors in the one room we called our home. We never had sufficient clothes to keep warm with. I do not blame anyone especially for us being so poor, but we children never got much of a chance to make much out of ourselves under this king of environment. However, we all did grow up to be respected citizens in our lives after we got out on our own. We were farm folks until we older children were about grown. We children did not have much chance for any kind of recreation or good times like the youth of today enjoy. We did have some second cousins by the name of Lottie, Lora, and Charley Rhoades, who lived about 15 miles from us, and once in a while we, Marion, Claude and I went to stay all night with them on Saturday nights and they in return would come to see us. We would get out in the kitchen and play “skip-to-my-Lou”, and “Miller Boy”, and some of those old play-party games, and we had good times in our humble way. When I was 13, I went and worked in a home for Charlie Stutsman’s near Gallatin, Missouri. Mrs. Stutsman was ill in bed, and I did all the housework and sent their little girl, Minnie Grimes to school and fixed lunches for Minnie and Mr. Stutsman. I felt quite grown-up doing a woman’s work when I was only 13. The next place I worked away from home was at Tom Swafford’s, also near Gallatin. I got very homesick away from home when I was working, although my home was so poor. My folks at home got the measles and I had to quit my job and go home to take care of them. Dad and I were the only ones that were able to be up. After the rest were over the measles, I had them, and I took pleurisy with them. I nearly died. Another time when we were living in a one-room shack on a lease in the Turpin woods, Marion and Claude both had pneumonia, and Marion passed on when the crisis came. But it was not his time to go, so the Lord spared his life. Another time Ralph, who was only ten years of age, was stricken with typhoid fever while he was working in the cornfield. Iva also had it at the same time. Ralph nearly died this time. Also he had to learn to walk again after he began to get better. Well, I have kindly switched from the subject of writing about myself. But, as I stated, when my friend, Joe Brizendine, came back from Oklahoma, we soon planned to get married. I was working in a restaurant as cook in Plattsburg, Missouri, and he was living on a farm at Richmond, Missouri. He had been previously married but his wife had died with measles. He had two girls, ages 6 and 3 ½ years. The oldest one was Noma Jane Brizendine, the baby was Veva LaVern. We were married 1 August 1909, at Claude and Zalpha’s home at 10:00 o-clock Sunday morning by Squire Lester B. Hooper, a Justice of the Peace. Joe took me back to his mother’s home at Richmond out in the country. His mother was Katherine Marley, wife of James Marley. Joe had farmed a few acres of corn that summer, close to his mother’s place. He had a horse and buggy and a small amount of furniture that had been his first wife’s. So I soon became tired of living in his mother’s home, so get got a job working on the farm for a man named Johnny Morgan, with a two-room house provided for us. So we went to his sister Sicha’s home and got his furniture, and we and his two small girls set up housekeeping. And I was ever so proud to have my own home even if it was furnished with my husband’s first wife’s furniture. And I took so much pride in keeping my little two-room home. But Joe never got along with Mr. Morgan so we moved back to my former hometown at Plattsburg and moved in with a Paul Lewis, a man who had lost his wife a short time before. As we only had the one horse and needed a team, Joe traded my gold watch he had given me before we were married for a horse. We put our horses out in a stalk field to winter them cheaply as possible and our new horse fell on the ice while drinking water and died from the results. We then left Paul Lewis’ place and moved to another place in a big old house where my two brothers and wives, Marion and Myrtle, Claude and Zalpha lived and Joe and Marion and Claude all cut cordwood to keep body and soul together that winter, 1909-1910. That spring of 1910 we sold our last horse for $20.00 and took the money and moved to St. Joseph, Missouri on March 14, 1910. Joe got a job on the labor gang at Swift’s Packing House and worked for $10.00 a week. We were so happy and felt quite rich and I managed to save part of his wages and we bought a few pieces of new furniture and were looking forward to a bright future. But it was not to be. After we were married only about eighteen months, Joe got severely hurt by a beef falling on him while at work in the packing house which resulted in him having a complete collapse, and he nearly died. After a siege of six weeks of serious illness, which caused him to have some kind of violent spells after which he would lapse into unconsciousness for a long period. His folks finally put him in the mental hospital. Just imagine, my reader, if you can, what a desperate disappointment and shock that meant to me, a bride of less than two years, left alone a broken-hearted girl of 22, with my husband in an asylum and his two little dependent children on my hands. Well, I couldn’t give up although many nights I cried myself to sleep. I broke up my home and stored my things in Coda and Iva’s barn, and Marion and Myrtle took Noma, our oldest girl and Claude and Zalpha took Veva into their homes as neither had any children, and Joe’s folks turned his little helpless children down and my folks, who were no blood relation to them gave them a home to help me in my distress and sorrow. I went to stay with Iva and Coda, and my very heart and soul were torn and bleeding from my poor husband’s misfortune and the breaking up of our home and the scattering of our little family. I secured work in a laundry working twelve hard hours a day for $6.60 a week. I went to visit my poor sick husband often, and after a few weeks the hospital authorities paroled him to me. But he still was not well enough to stay by himself at home while I was away working, so we had to take him back again for a few more weeks when the doctor let him go home with me again. I rented a cheap place and once again got my home and family together. Joe still had is bad spells and continued to have them for years, but I shielded him with every ounce of strength and courage I had. And oh, the sleepless nights I spent watching over him after I had worked so terribly hard all day. Many, many times I wore black and blue marks I had received from him when he was not responsible. He was a kind, mild-tempered Christian man, and was always sorry for anything I suffered through his misfortune in having his persecution of the miserable health he had to endure. Poor fellow suffered too, more than anyone could ever tell. My whole heart went out in sympathy for him. It often seemed we both were burdened with a heavier cross than we could bear, and it was only through the grace and tender mercy of a kind, living Heavenly Father that we did endure. Long before my husband was able to go out and work to help out with earning an existence for his two little children and us, he went and did anything he could to find to do. He cleaned out empty building s for a real estate company and even worked for a concrete road building company when he was weak and sick. He always turned his money into the upkeep of our humble home. I remember one summer when we were having such a hard time. We struggled to lay by something for winter’s food I succeeded in filling my cellar full of canned fruits and vegetables, and we were so thankful for the things we had conserved. But hard luck was ours again. One night a flood came and filled our cellar with water and consequently the walls of our cellar collapsed and our living was buried in mud and broken glass, water and brisk next morning after the flood. My heart was so broken I could scarcely go to my work. I just felt it was too much. But the harder my lot the more I prayed. In fact, I prayed continually at my work in the laundry. At one time when it was so terribly cold and we had no coal or money, and that was one time the Lord surely did visit us with His mercy, for when I returned from my work that night, by some means still a mystery to me to this day, a ton of coal had been put in our coal shed. Even now as I recall this incident, after about 28 years, my eyes are filled with tears of gratitude for that coal being sent to us to keep us from suffering from the severe cold.

At another time it was Christmas time and poor unfortunate us, with our two little children, had no prospects whatever for a bit of Christmas cheer. So we went to Mother and Dad’s for Christmas. They were terribly poor too, but Mother was willing to divide what she had with us. So when we returned home late that evening, someone had during that Christmas day went into our house and piled the table high with all kinds of groceries, toys, and clothing. That was another tie when I never found out where the things had come from.

Later on, Coda Brizendine rented a berry farm at Wathena, Kansas, and there was a big demand for berry pickers, so I quit my job at the laundry where I had worked four years and we took our belongings and moved into a little one-room shack and we all picked berries for Coda and Bill Mengniot. And we surely saved every cent we actually didn’t have to buy bread. We bought a few pullets and some small pigs, and that fall we bought a nice jersey heifer and paid $40.00 cash for her. She soon came fresh and we had milk and butter which did help us out so much. We raised plenty of all kind of vegetables on the land along the creek bank, and we had a couple of pigs to butcher, and I canned fruit that summer so we were beginning to do a little better. Next year we rented a four-acre berry patch and that fall with the money we earned working for others and with what we made out of our place we were able to buy us a nice mare. Paid $95.00 cash for her, but she proved to be a run-away, and did run off and threw me out of the market wagon and nearly killed me. The wagon ran over my back, hurting me severely. We then sold our mare to Coda and took a young heifer in on the deal, which later made us another fine cow. Next season we worked on a berry farm for an old fellow by the name of Frank George, who gave us a little one-room shack to live in and let is keep our cow. My husband and I both worked for him. I tied up grape vines and hoed, and Joe plowed and set out berries, till berries were ready to pick, then the two little girls and both of us worked so hard from early spring till the fruit season was over. That fall we had $240.00 clear for our summer’s work. We took the money and bought a team of sorrel mares, also a wagon and harness. We, by this time, had three milk cows. Feed was terribly high, but our cows made enough money to buy feed for them and the horses. The next year we rented a rough hilly old farm and started to farm for ourselves. We had in the meantime accumulated a few hogs and chickens. We bought two little pigs for $2.50 and raised them. One of the pigs grew into a pure blood Poland China sow and raised a nice litter of pigs the next spring. We also bought an old white sow from Coda, paying him $17.00 for her. She had 13 pigs and we raised about 8 of them. We were so hard up for feed (not yet having raised a crop), that we carried weeds in gunny sacks for a mile or so to feed our hogs and keep life in them till we could raise some corn. We worked our poor horses so hard in that old hillside farm and every week I would have to sell three or four of my prized flock of hens to get a few oats or feed for our horses, and I also sold butter and milk to get a little food for ourselves and to help feed our team. But the Lord really did bless us then for that fall of 1917 we sold $221.00 worth of hogs and $160.00 of corn, besides having a nice crib of corn for our own use and three good cows and four brood sows and no debts. And I raised 150 hens and a flock of geese, and we sold about $150.00 worth of sorghum molasses that fall, and we bought a new cream separator that year, and was getting a cream check each week which more than paid our living expenses, which weren’t much for all we had to eat was raised on the farm. And we never had no clothes; for a whole year I only had one print dress and a blue wool skirt and white waist to wear to church. So we put every dime in the bank for safe keeping. I remember the year we worked on the berry farm for Frank George at Wathena, Kansas. I never so much as went to town from April to October. I was saving money and knew if I went to town, I might spend some of our precious nickels, so I stayed at home, and we all went without many clothes or not entertainment and very scant rations, but we got a foothold and enough money to do something for ourselves. We paid $150.00 cash rent for the first year on the farm we rented. Next year we tried it again with big ambitions, but we didn’t do so well. The hot winds and droughts struck us just as our promising corn crop began to put out shoots, and we ran out of water for our livestock, and had to take them a long distance to find drinking water. However, poor dear husband got quite some work from his step-father in hay harvesting and in cutting corn and various other farm work and I carried on at home, seeing that the stock was watered and cared for and raising big gardens and milking cows and canning and taking care of our living. I worked right along with husband in the field. I ran the corn drill, planting our corn one year till my feet work almost one solid blister on the bottoms. I also cut corn for fodder right along with him, also made a hand at gathering corn in the fall, helped make molasses and hoed in the fields and garden. I always raised the most abundant gardens of the whole neighborhood. But as I said, 1918 was again a reverse year. Again our crops were not very good, and that fall in October our oldest daughter, Noma, died. She was 17 years of age, and died of the flu and appendix operation. After an illness of five days, that expense of her operation and funeral just took about all of our savings to pay. And the same fall while we were so busy making molasses, one of our mares fell over a high embankment and killed herself, and the other mare got in the barbed wire and cut her foot so badly she wasn’t able to work in the cane mill. So there we were, our cane freezing in the patch, and no horse to run the cane mill. So Joe went and borrowed a team from his brother-in-law, John Nelson, to finish making our sorghum, for which we readily sold at $150 per gallon. We sold a nice bunch of shoats that fall to Jesse Lanning, our neighbor for $120.00. However, the landlord Jim Jones, saw we could make a little money on his old, no-good farm, so he hiked the rent another $50.00 on the year, and we felt we couldn’t pay more rent and have anything at all left for our hard labor and stiff sacrifices we had to make to be able to clear a few dollars above the rent for us as farms were scarce and hard to rent, and husband had a chance for an $18.00 per week job in town working in a coal and feed store for Bill Akers. We very foolishly sold everything we had striven so hard to accumulate and went to town, St. Joe, Missouri, and bought us a little three-room house from Pete Nedler, an old Frenchman, and bought us some furniture and clothes, and joined two or three fraternal organizations. And we both were working, I at the sewing factory and he at the feed store. So we went in for being city folks in a big way, but we acted so unwisely, for it wasn’t long till most of our money was spent and gone. So we used poor judgment.

Ream and Ralph both came to our house to live after Marion died. Ralph and Florence Phillips were married shortly afterward and moved to themselves after about a month at our house. Ream worked at the Campbell Baking Co., receiving $35.00 a week wage. He continued living at our house, paid me $7.00 a week for room and board. But a labor strike came on at the bakery and Ream went out with the strikers and lost his good job forever. In the meantime, Ream traded his automobile for an equity in some property (five-room house) on North 13th St., and urged that we move into his house and rent our house at 6322 Morris Avenue. So we did. I was still in the sewing factory making good wages and in the meantime husband had changed jobs and was now working at the White Temple Methodist Church as janitor making $80.00 or $85.00 per month. I rented two of my rooms out to Mr. Freeman and his two girls, Mary and Grace. Husband and I both had good jobs, but poor Ream was still out of a job. Only an occasional odd job could he pick up.

Finally we got tired of living in a rented house so we traded our three-room house on a new five-room stucco house in Excello addition, paying a huge difference between properties. We were awfully proud to have an interest in a brand new home. So we planted shrubs and flowers and orchard and vineyard and made a nice lawn and fixed it up so pretty. In the meantime, I had saved $50.00 out of my factory work and made a down payment on an adjoining acre of land for which I promised to pay $750.00. I had previously bought the place adjoining it with an acre of ground and a new five-room stucco house.