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Latah County Oral History Collection

Remembering Latah County and Idaho Life at the turn of the 20th century

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Date: June 01, 1976 Interviewer: Sam Schrager

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Dixie Baugh Groseclose: Landed down here at Arrow Junction, now Arrow, nine miles down, you know, down below.

SAM SCHRAGER: How many families were there? Living right in that area? I mean, were there very many? There was more than one Groseclose family, is that right?

DG: When we came here the Foglejsongs were here then, werent they?

Edward Groseclose: Yeah.

DG: Kent Fogelsong and Will Grosecloses and Crabtee, let's see, the Kinzers. Is that right?

EG: Yeah, Kinzer, Maxwell. Well they was— start in with down there- Foglesong he was a— there was a little scrap of ground down there about seventeen or eighteen acres that four or five people homesteaded on it a while, and Foglesong come out here and bought in on that. Well, Foglesong come in here in 1906. My oldest brother, Levi, went East and got married and Foglesong and Crabtree come back with him. And then bought Crabtree out Jurdin, Jim Jurdin. The place where Crabtree and Jim Jurdin had is where the museum is there at Arrow now. That was the Jim Jurdin homestead. They had to carry their water from the Clearwater River up there. And there was a big family of Jurdins. They water witched it up there about four or five not very big boys.

SS: Did they get any?

EG: Huh?

SS: Did they get any when they water wiched it?

EG: They water witched it up by the bucket! (Laughter)

DG: That's his way of jokin'— they water wiched it by hand.

EG: The way they got it up there.

SS: Was your brother, Levi, was he a lawyer?

EG: Well, a little bit, he studied law some and him and- oh, I can't re call the fellow's name now- at Lewiston, they worked together a while. He had him an office here at Juliaetta a little while. The main thing he done was take care of things for this other lawyer. He never stayed with one thing very long, only farmin'. He stayed with that as long as he could work.

So, now, most of them people that lived there; were most of them from Virginia?

Yes, there was a little Virginia down here. Well, you see there was ten of our family. And then my uncle come in here, Uncle Jim, and he had a family of nine. And then Maeci's dad up here, well, there was only six of them. Only six of that family. They located here in Julia etta. But the Virginians down the canyon there was Fogleson and thenwell, the Groseeoses homesteaded in there; Will homesteaded in the Catholic Gulch and then my sister she had the place where Albrightswhere Lora Jean Albright lives. The most of the place they've got there was her's. Most of her place was across the river; across the Potlatch up on that hill. And then my brother, Albert, he had a home stead where that great, big walnut tree stands up there above the road. His house was right there by that. Well, that growed by his spring. Where his homestead was, and then my brother, Marion, had where the concrete house used to be there. They got a trailer house in there now. And then, my uncle, Jim, he had the place— well, where all them locust trees is.

DG: Just the other side of George Johnson-

EG: Just about a quarter^the other side of George Johnson.

DG: Where the water comes down, where the waterfall is.

EG: Them waterfalls there, the water comes down the hill, they was on his place. He had all them springs along there. And then there was— well, above Marion's place there was a Steve Kimberling, originally there was about ten of them, but they was scattered out over the country. And then Tom Hall, son-in-law of his, had a homestead up the canyon above Kimberling.

SS: A son-in-law of Kimberlings?

EG: Yes. Son-in-law of Kimberling.

DG: Did they all come from Virginia, too?

BG: Yes, they were all Virginians.

SS: Were they all from more or less the same part of Virginia?

EG: Yes.

SS: Which part was that?

EG: Well, Birch Garden and Ceres. Birch Garden, well it showed on the map. On the map of Virginia Birch Garden is shown there and Ceres is in narrow Bland County. Blfcnd County looks like a beaver skin. It's got a tail runs around in there.

DG: He did have a book on it, but he's got it loaned out.

EG: Any geography show: Virginia and the counties and all that.

SS: Were the Grosecloses the first to relocate out here from that part of Virginia?

EG: No, the Halls and Kimberlings come here first. The Kimberlings they come up to Palouse and they went broke in '93, and they come down in here then. The Kimberlings and Halls come down in here after that. They come in here really before the railroad.

SS: Now, had they known each other back in Virginia?

EG: Yes.

SS: Were they related— was there relations kin between those two, the Kimberlings and say the Grosecloses? Before?

EG: My Uncle Jim married a Kimberling. So they was kinda mixed up. We wasn't related to the Kimberlings, but my uncle's family was. And then they was two Halls lived up the Little Potlatch Canyon. Old Tom Hall and Lee had homesteads up the Little Potlatch Canyon. They were Vir ginians. And then, well, there was another Virginian in there, that Knowles. Knowles took up the place where Johnson is, but he got funny. And he was an engraver by trade. And he engraved some United States currency. And so, he had an indoor job for I don't know how many years for that. So then, they sold out to Albrights.

SS: He didn't get by with his engraving for very long then?

EG: I don't think very long. I don't know. Then there was another Groses- Neil, he homesteaded over across the river.

DG: Not a Groseclose.

EG: He was a Virginian, not a Groseclose. Yeah, but he was Virginian.

SS: Neil was his last name?

Yeah, Neil was his last name. Jack Neil.

Jack Neil. He had a family of five, yeah, three boys-

Were the Halls and the Neils, were those families related to the others at all? To the Grosecloses and the others?

DG: No.

EG: No.

SS: No relation at all.

Neils wasn't directly, but after the Neils children growed up, well their families married. Then one of the Grosecloses married a grand daughter of the Neils.

Well, now I'm just curious about what the thinking was. Why the families wanted to stay close to the people that they'd known back-

EC: No, it wasn't that, it was just that homestead land down in here on

SS: the reservation, and they all come in here and got homesteads.

DG: Just wanted to go West and get rich, I imagine.

EG: Yeah. The Halls and the Kimberlings, they come in here because they went broke in the Palouse and this was the next place to light that they could get holt, you know to try to start again, was down in this here Indian Reservation here.

SS: How many of the families had known each other back in Virginia, do you think before they came out? Had most of them known the others?

EG: Yes, these all knowed each other. DH: The Knowles, did you really know them? Not the Knowles, did you?

EG: Knowles, no, we didn't know the Knowles.

DG: The Halls-

EG: The Halls and the Kimberlings, Kinzers-

DG: Foglesongs.

EG: Huh?

DG: I say the Fogelsongs.

EG: Well the Fogelsongs they were related.

DG: Kimberlings and Groscloses and Wilsons.

SS: Did the Wilsons know the Grosecloses back in Virginia?

EG: Yes, my brother, Will and Dave Wilson, they were pals, and they come to this country and they homesteaded adjoining. And they trapped and hunted and trapped together. Bought furs if someone sold 'em.

SS: How was that Wilson related to you?

DG: Well, he was my stepfather. Then there was^Baughs in later years came and in there and they were related to the Wilsons, and they were Vir ginians.

EG: Yeah, they were Virginians; come from the same-

DG: But they come in about 1917.

EG: Yeah, and then the Steeles. George Steele come along, too, with his family.

DG: And that was along about that time, wasn't it?

EG: He come right along about the same time Baughs did.

DG: And they were all Virginians.

SS: What do you think it had been like for the— for your family in Virginia? I figured that it wasn't so great, or if it was real good they probably wouldn't have wanted to come out here. They must have figured they would improve— make a better life out here, I would guess.

EG: Yeah, they did. Well—

DG: The younger ones could take up homesteads.

EG: My oldest brother come first, and the reason he got dissatisfied in Virginia— they was a son-in-law picked a flaw in my grandfather's will. And he lost quite a bit of land. Well, they had this here will in court for twenty years before they ever settled it. The grandfather willed all of the land of the Chestnut Ridge survey to his boys, and gave the girls a thousand dolalrs apiece more than the boys boys the Chestnut Ridge survey. Well he paid ten cents an acre for this land in the hills there. At that time you know, well, Batrick Henry signed the deed to it. So, it wasn't a giving 'em so very much, but I don't know exactly how many— twenty, thirty thousand acres— I don't know what it was. Anyway, when the courts— there wasn't a man in the country that knew what the Chestnut Ridge survey was. Well, this here son-inlaw said that the Chestnut Ridge survey just included the land that was on the Chestnut Ridge, and the other claimed that—

DG: Just like a bunch of land going down the Potlatch Ridge, you know.

EG: it included all the— it was Chestnut Ridge survey, you know,— well I guess you might say like the Nez Perce survey here. Over there at Nez Perce, the Nez Perce survey takes in the whole Nez Perce Indian Reservation. But if somebody didn't know all that and some fellow'd say, "Well, all that Nez Perce country is up,around Nez Perce." That was the way I figured the way it musta been, that they give the name of a survey that surveyed all that country out; called it a Chestnut Ridge Survey. But there was nobody knew for sure what it was. So the court finally divided it up equal; the land up equal between the girls and the boys. So we lost some 400 acres in there.

SS: You say, "we" you mean—?

EG: My family, yeah. My direct family lost that. So my brother, Will, says, I'm agoing' to Idaho. The geography tells about that country there in the West; homestead land. And it's warmed by the Chinook winds from the west there, that Japanese current and it's a mild clim ate in there1,1 he says, "I'm going out and look at that." Dad says, "You go look at it and if you like it I'll follow you." So that's why we come.

SS: You know this survey— I'm thinking about that— this was all land that had been given to your grandfather by the governor, or something like that?

EG: Yeah. Patrick Henry, he was the governor of Virginia there-

DG: Was it give to 'em, or did you say they give

EG: He bought it for ten cents an acre.

DG: Bought it from the government, huh?

EG: Yeah. That wasn't very much. Well, this whole Nez Perce— or a good percent of this country in here, twenty-five hundred square miles, of this country right in here was bought from the Nez Perce Indians for twenty-five cents an acre. And then they got into war and^never paid the Indians for it, til^maVYj years after. After the Indians got educated enough to know what they was doin', then they sued the govern ment for this two bits and the interest on it. So the Indians got quite a lot of money out of it. The interest amounted to a whole lot more than the principal when they paid for it.

SS: You know, what I've read about— the little bit that I've read, I don't know much about Virginia and that part of the country, was that families would stay there for generations and generations, it would be the same families in one place, and had a lot of good strong roots there.

EG: My great grandfather come into that country there about 1780, when he come into that country there. And my great grandfather— they had the book of Blftnd County tells about him, that's Henry; Big Henry. He was a building a house— his father was having him a house built for him to get married in and they was a building it outta logs, and there was one log that they decided they'd have to change e^s with to make the building straight, and it was quite a log, and so the carpenters was arguing over that, they didn't want to change that big log. So— there's two stories to this— some says that they put it up therethat's the story my dad had that they'd laid the log up, but they was a arguing about changing it, and he says, "Lay the log on my shoul der and I'll change it." They thought they'd measure from the groundbut they laid that thirty-two foot oak log on his shoulder and he turn ed it around and put it back up on there.

Now that's the story my dad tells, but the book has it, that he picked this log up offa the ground and laid it up there. Well, to pick a log up that long and lay it up there all at onct, is quite a thing, but to pick up one end and laid it over and pushed it over and then went and got the other^and laid it up there where it cross balanced, that wouldn't abeen lifting more than half the log at a time. But then, the way it tells it, he picked it all up. So, I don't know, it musta been somewhere around 1500 pounds, or something like that if he picked it up. He was— well they claimed he could take a thirty gallon keg of whiskey, pick it up this way, and take him a drink out of itJ! Then he lived in that house there and raised his family and boy, William, Dr. William, that was my grandfather, he lived in that house, and then his youngest son, Dal, lived there. And when we sold out, my dad sold out, he told to Dal - so well, they divided the home place among the three boys; Cass and Jim and Dal. So Jim come out to this country; he sold out to Dal.

SS: How were they related to you?

EG: That was my dad's—

SS: Jim was your dad?

EG: Jim was my dad, yeah. Big Jim. And the other, Little Jim, he come out here, he was a small fella. Now Maeci Nye, up here now she had Old Uncle Jim, and Uncle Jimmy, that's the way she described them, but the people of the country, speaking about 'em, they called 'em Big Jim and Little Jim.

SS: Who was Little Jim?

EG: Little Ji? he was my mother's brother, he — Little Jim was the grandfather of this fella that runs the service station.

DG: His mother was a Groseclose and married a Groseclose.

SS: Well, was Maeci's grandfather some kind of bigwig back there? I thought she had said that her mother's father had-

EG: Her mother someway was related to Henry Clay, through somewhere through there. I don't know just how close they was. She was a Tiller and where the Tillers and the Clays come from I don t know.

SS: I thought her mother's father—^at least I've heard about that— when you'd stay - like the families being in one place for so long like that, that when they'd get a fmid going or something like that it' go on for years and years.

EG: Well, they never happened to have a feud in that country there, not right in there. The only thing, you know, was a— they split off, they were Southerners and during the war my father and two brothers and a bond boy— Now back there in them old days, you could take poor children, and my grandfather had a boy and a girl, and they had to keep 'em til they was twenty- one years old and they give the boy a suit of clothes and a horse and, I don't know, they give the girls something in a bed or something that way, that they give her when she was come of age. I don't know what become of the girl but the boy went to the army, and they never heard tell of him again. Now, I've always thought about that, he went into the army afightin' for to keep the slaves and he was practically as much of a slave as what the others was. Well, you know what people will ... And such funny things as they can teach people, and such foolish things and then people will fall for it. Like our churches splittin'. They split over Noah of making a curse to his son. Noah, you know, got drunk and undressed himself in a tent and one son went in and seen him, well, he didn t think anything serious about it, but he comes out and told the other boys, laughed about it, well, they thought that was terrible; a man so naked, so they got a blanket and went backwards and covered him up. And ,when he was gettin' over the drunk, they told him about it and he said, "Cursed was this I believe was his name- A servant of servants should his seed be all the days of their lives." Well, then, they say that his seed— his people- went into Africa and then turned black and that made it legal for to make slaves out of the black people So they was ten million niggers brought into this country and sold as slaves. And then they got into that big war over it. You know, the funny thing, we talk about— tell now about all our booze and tobacco being such terrible things, well in the long run, this Civil War was caused way back there when Old Noah got drunk and pronounced the curse on his son. His son was supposed to produce the black men and they come over here as slaves and this country got in a war over it. And had that terrible war over that, and that was all caused by booze.

SS: All because of the booze?

EG: Huh?

SS: Because of the booze.

EG: Yeah, because Old Noah got drunk.

SS: What did you think about slavery?

EG: Oh, it was a dirty thing. It was terrible.

DG: His grandfather owned slaves.

EG: My grandfather owned slaves, yes. And he was out in the country where they didn't grow cotton though. He didn't have any use for 'em, I don't know, just a few, two or three or four. I don't know. Don't know how many he had, just a very few. But, he leaned in that direction, so that his boys went into the Southern Army. My Uncle Cass was a cap tain, and my dad was a first lieutenant in the Southern Army.

SS: During the Civil War?

EG: During the Civil War, Yeah. They was only in actual duty about two years til they got captured. And then they was in prison for two years.

SS: That must have been pretty rough, being in prison.

EG: Well, I guess the North didn't treat 'em so bad. 'Course, they had to stay in there. I heard him tell about one time while he was in prison, there was a guard awalkin' along and he asked the guard if he would break him off some kind of a bush that was growin' out there, great long ? , if he would get him one of them for a fishin' pole. "Yes," he says, "I'll get you one." And then there was a place over somewhere where they could get stuff, and this here guard^he works his way out, you know, and got this and brung it over and put it through to him and say, he says, "Will you go over there to a place somewhere across there and get me some g^er candy?" So, he went over and brought the guard some candy, and brought it back give it to him. Yeah, oh, they had— if they acted sensible they could get along good together.

SS: Did your father— do you think he bore a lot of anger about the Civil War afterwards?

EG: No, he wasn't too hostile. A lot of people did own to that, but they all had that foolish idea of, well- they could hire a nigger or a nig ger come and work for 'em, or he could cook for 'em— a negro cook he could have work on the farm but when it come to the table to eat, why, he never eat it. Didn't make any difference how much room there was on the table, a black man didn't eat at the same table with a white.

DG: If you have that shut off, I was gonna find some of this things a little bit on the order of what he writes. He's wrote about the neg roes and so on, but I don't know where they're at." My dad told me with a leary eye, that I would go to hell if I told a lie. Then with out a pause, he told about Santa Claus." (Apparently this is a quote which I did not recognize and write as such. F.R.) A name and to this country a lot of people came. And, of course, they had to name something, and they called — and some called it Chile, some parts then Brazil and Argentina, and all the others^n between, the people they called Indians, the nicest people I have ever seen, the white man treated them very mean. The white man pushed the Indians from here to there and so doing lost a lot of hair. What God will do to the white man treating other men so mean, we have seen a lot and a lot we haven t seen. In the hills of Tennessee is some people that don't know where they came from one time the country was called Franklin — and what is it? Looks like cottage— and one was called Choate, a man named Choate located on a meadow in Idaho. Four men got mining claims on Drift Creek. Drift Creek was on state land. Other men located near on Freeman Creek. Then the Nez Perce Reservation was near, was a mile and a half from state land reservation, was surveyed first then and the other land was surveyed in sections and forties. When they go to reservations then there was a narrow strip of fifty feet to forty rods called-

EG: Dispute strip.

DG: Dispute strip. French Pete had a— what is it?

EG: Well, he had a claim there.

DG: Looks like place (spells out p-1-a-c-e) maybe-

EG: Well, he had a place.

DG: Forty rods wide orchard but he left and got another place. Some of the settlers were Olsons, Terrys, Watsons, Stickeys, Rabies, Pat tersons, Watts, Doc Steinekers.

EG: And Little Lou Steineker, too.

DG: And Blackburns. And they had a schoolhouse. Doc Steineker had a post office called Cedarville, and then Patterson got the post office. All lost places but Patterson and Strickey and Choate. And Choate got the Post office, called Tekean, supposed to be Indian for metal. But meant Little Creek. Should have been-

EG: Takean.

DG: Takean, instead of Tekean. Was heavy timber now on most farm lands. This is just a little bit that he wrote Tekean country, that was back up in here.

SS: Uh-huh.

EG: Well, that's history that not many people knows anymore though.

DG: But he's got some that was pretty good that he's wrote about.

EG: That's history of that"1 strip of land than run back through there.

DG: I thought we had 'em in here. But Eggers brought 'em back, of some she'd had.

SS: She still has quite a bit, she told me.

DG: I think—I just don't have— there wasn't as much.

SS: I'm real interested in it. That's all interesting.

EG: That is

DG: That one, there- told the lie about Santa Claus—

EG: That is, but most of people— that Cedarville post office, that was the first one in there. Now that Old had that post office in 1893, and he got a man to bring in his supplies for the winter. They stayed in there in the winter; it snowed up, and well, they might come out on snowshoes, but they stayed in that country. They didn't come out very often in the wintertime. And he had this voucher that he got for eighteen dollars, I believe, he got for the post work, but he gave that to this here feller for bringing in his supplies, and a couple of months after that he said he was down at Kendrick, and they had a little place there they called a bank, and the feller said, "Come in here, got something to show you." And he showed him that voucher with a sheet of tablet paper pinned to it, wrote full of names on both sides. He said he'd bet that had paid $2000 around through the country there. And he told him he ought to keep that for a souvenir, and he said, "I'd sure like to," Nhe says, "but I've got a little money in it and I've got to send it to New York to get it out." That was the early day times, you know in that year of 1893 people, oh, that was— It went to rainin' the 18th of August, and of course, they had no roads. If they got a piece of grain thrashed lay in the fields and grow in the sacks. The sacks'd rot off of it, they couldn't get it to market. And then they had these great, big traction engines and if one of them cut into the ground that deep, the firebox would hit the ground and it was stuck. And they'd have to have timber to get- put under there to get out. Well there wasn't no timber so they didn't get nowhere. Even if they coulda got , I guess they got quite a lot of their stuff headed, but it rotted in the sack. Then they foreclosed on people, right now!! Old J. P. Vollmer, he got a lot of good land through that. And they was a fella by the name of Daggert. Albert Daggert he rented out his place and sold his farm machinery to three brothers that took his place over, and when '93 come on- they couldn't pay for the stuff and they sold 'em out. So, Daggert, of course happened to have a little money and he bought his farm outfit back, and he bought the header for a dol lar and a half. He said, "I got the other stuff in proportion." But that's what he told that he bought the header— that was the highest priced piece of machinery there was- the header, and he got it for a dollar and a half. Now that was a lot of nerve, you know, to bid that on a— nobody else could raise the bid.

SS: On a dollar and a half?

EG: A dollar and a half for the header. Well, I don't suppose he'd a paid six bits for a gangplow. They've had some rough old times in this country, but they slowed 'em all over. But^that's one thing— Well, in that year of 1893, if you get the book of old Genesee; George Jamison, a blacksmith up there, he left up there and come down into Catholic Gulch and that's where I run onto him down there, and he said that year of 1893, he done $4800 worth of blacksmith in the shop there at Genesee and he says, "I never got a cent."

SS: He was waiting til the harvest to get his money.

EG: Well, you know, the fellows had to have their blacksmithin' done and he was the blacksmith, he^one the work and they all went broke and he never got a penny out of it. Said he wrote to one fellow that had made good after that and asked him if he could pay him a little part of what he owed him; he owed him a big bill, "No," he said he couldn't "if I could pay you part of it, I could pay it all." He say?,"But I can't pay any of it." Well, the old fellow, he was a Northern soldier, that is, he went into the army young— well, on the last, he was a young Southern- or Northern soldier-, but all the Northern soldiers got pensions. The crippled ones, the ones that got wounded got a lit tle pension from the states, but the ones that wasn't they never got anything. I had a— well, he was my grandfather's brother, he married my grandmother, he was my stepgrandfather, he got wounded, and I be lieve he got two and a half a month pension from the State of Virginia.

SS: So the Southern soldiers did get a pension, too, if they were wounded?

EG: Yeah, the state would pay 'em if they were wounded.

SS: Well, you were saying a little while ago that people brought out their dislike of negroes out here from the South.

EG: Oh, yes, they did. They brought it out here and my daughter— well, I told 'em that I was glad I was— that I knowed all about the slave stuff and all that— but I was glad I was raised on an Indian Reservation where I was civilized. A lot of people done a lot of talkin' about the Indians. How mean the Indians was. Well, history teaches how they used to burn 'em at the stake and all things like that. Well, if now all the dirty things that the white man done to the Indian was told, why, burnin' 'em to stake would be— well, that was to scare 'em so they wouldn't be rushin' in there, but that didn't stop 'em. I heard one story of a bunch that was comin' West and there was one man in the bunch said he was gonna kill an Indian. Said the Indians was in the big high grass and they'd stick their heads up every now and then, they'd stick their heads up and one white man says, "I'm gonna kill one of 'em." They told him to let 'em alone, but he did, he shot one. So the other Indians come and come up and told 'em, says "You give us that man or we'll kill you all." So there was nothing to do but give 'em that man. So they give him to 'em and they took him out and skunned him alive. They skun him alive and then turned him loose. Says he run about a hundred yards before he fell. That sounds like it was treatin' 'em awful rough, but then skinnin' alive is no rougher tha:i the way they crucified 'em when they cru cified Jesus and the thf^ves by him and then the Spaniards, they had the way they'd kill you by boring an auger into the base of your skull here. Why, the Indians didn't have nothing on the way the white men treated people. They burn you at a stake. You know, people always think of burning- dying by fire is a— well, if you're where you just slowly roasted it could be awful painful, but if you're in a good fire it's over pretty quick; a minute or so of sufferin'. I don't want to try it!! (Chuckles)

SS: Did you know of any black men out here? Any that you knew in this coun try?

EG: No, there's never been—

SS: I heard there was a guy at Kendrick that had a restaurant for a few years. I've heard of him.

EG: That had a nigger woman there? Up at Troy, or Helmer, up at Helmer, they was a man run a store up there that had a nigger woman. And then there was a family up there by the name of Kings. And one of the King girls come down here and worked for Albrights a while. And, they thought that, I can't call her name now, they thought that she was just about the best they ever was. Well, they was good people. The white man says you give 'em an inch they'll take a mile, but I don't know. I don't think they're any worse than— I don't think they're a bit worse than the white man. My daughter, I was telling about her, she went down to Walla Walla and she found some negroes travelin' through the country there and they was hungry, they couldn't find no place to eat. There was no place they would feed 'em, and she got grub and fed them black people. No, that Southern stuff shattered— I think maybe I kinda think the negra had something to do with it, because they got in, and when there was a lot of 'em, they'd get together and they'd rough up a bunch of whites. Well, they come out here during the war time in the West and I think they brought a lot of that on by gettin' a bunch of them fellows to come out here and they'd pull the same thing here in this country where they shoulda been amakin' friends of the white man instead of shoWing off their tough stuff, you know. I think that had quite a little to do with gettin' people turned against 'em so bad here in the North. North and Northwest. But during the war, they had a mutiny over in the Islands; the whites and the niggers, and my brother-in-law, George Wilson, was over there and he heard of it and he was atalkin' to an Indian down here at the depot at Spalding as we was a noonin' down there, and this here young white- well, he was Char lie White's boy, I forget what his name was, but he was in the army too and George was atellin' him about that mutiny there, and he says, "I was in that bunch. I was with the whites." Says, "They come out there of a morning, 'Come on, let's go here and clean up on these nig gers.', no," he says, "I'm from the Northwest , I've got nothing in that." And he didn't go and help, but he knew of the mutiny be tween them.

SS: Where did the mutiny take place I wonder?

EG: That was over in the Philippines, there, I forget, Mindanao, or some place in there.

SS: In World War I?

EG: That was in II.

SS: Do you remember the Ku Klux Klan in this country?

EG: Well, they wasn't in this country here very much. They was in here a while, but I know of 'em in the East. They started out as a good peopie. Now.if we had" good people that was in a deal like that today, we'd be— them there Ku Klux if there was some officer that wasn't at tending to his business, he might get a KK burned in the side of him OV\etime, or something that way, or he'd get a warning and if he didn't straighten up the next thing would be a beatin' or a hangin'. Now the Old Man Ostel, he come from North Carolina out here a while; he was just a boy in North Carolina at the close of the Civil War, and he was atellin' about these carpetbaggers comin' in and organizin' the niggers down there. Organized a nigger militia. Said there was a cne-armed man with a one-horse rig was ahauling a barrel of whiskey and he come along and met these niggers and they wanted some whiskey and he told 'em it wasn't his, he couldn't give it to 'em, but he fin ally slipped a hoop some way and got 'em a bucketful out, and he said that made 'em worse and then they got after him and chased him and he run under a bed and they killed him. This one-armed man. And the cap tain of this militia of negroes slapped this here fellow and told him he was Mr. so-and-so be£sB»they killed him. Well the Ku Klux Klan found that out and all about that, so they went and they caught thisgot this here captain; this nigger captain, and they took him up and they rigged up a one-arm man to look like this one that he had killed and this one-arm man walked up to him and slapped him and he. says,- "I'm mister, whatever this man's name was that they killed." He slap ped him and told him he was him, and he said he'd never heard a man holler so in his life as that nigger did when that one-arm man slapped him. He was dead, you know, he was a ghost. They pulled some pretty wise ones. And I don't know how people could have been so ignorant; and well, they's an awful lot of them couldn't read and write. And you could tell; somebody that had quite a little influence and pretty well educated to come along and tell people most anything and make 'em believe it.

SS: Where? You mean in the South?

EG: Huh?

SS: In the South?

EG: Make 'em believe it most anywhere. Now then, they's people that are having an awful time ; got a lot of things up that they believe, like in their religions. They take that Bible — you take it and read it straight through and they's nothing in the Bible if you read it straight through to tell you, but you can go in there and you can find a verse here and there and read it, like the Advents, they have a place in there that they read that there was 144,000 come up dressed in white and they was 1000 from each tribe of the children of Isr$£L. Well, they stopped readin' there, they read that. They're the chosen ones and they're gonna be the ones that's thataway, but they don't read the next verse: "And I seen a great multitude dressed in white robes from there to these, and says; Whence does these come? And they come up through great tribulations." But they don't read that one. They quit. Well the Jehovah Witnesses, they can come and they can take their Bible and take a verse here and a verse there and they can show you all that, and all the rest of 'em can do the same. But if they'd read it straight through, why, them verses tie in and they don't find all that.

SS: One thing I wanted to ask you about was; When your family was out here and you were growing up, did you learn how to use plants, you know, for medicinal purposes?

DG: No, not anything special, you know. Just the old-time remedies like, oh, they give peppermint tea for different things, if you have a sick stomach. And then the older folks used this asafetida drug, you know, for colic for babies, but I never studied any plants.

SS: I heard lots of people did use stuff like for instance they'd use—

DG: Some of 'em did use tansy tea, you know, and just things that grow. Sometimes they'd use sage tea. I don't think that any of you studied fc^fr ^ plants for medical purposes.

EG: What?

DG: Had any special plants for medical purposes. We never studied any.

SS: Did your family use any plants for- you know- use the natural plants for to stay well or regulators and that kind of thing?

EG: Oh, there's a little plant I got up here in the hill that the Indians showed— never gets more than about so high, and grows out in the dense timber, young timber, and the leaves are a little bit spotted, but you take them leaves and rub 'em this way and they'll divide, and where they divide you take that juicy side and put that on a sore and that's an Indian medicine, thataway, and Old Man Woodruff was the one that learnt it. There was alittle girl that had asore on her leg andthey never could heal it, it wouldn't heal up, and there was an old Indian woman brought this to 'em and showed 'em, said, "You put that on there, pretty soon she go hop-skip like any little girl." And it healed it up. They had no medicine that'd heal it up.

SS: Do you know what they called the plant?

EG: No, I don't know what it's called. I know what it is.

DG: If you see it, you do.

EG: Yeah. If I can find it, I know what it is. I got some of it and growed a little while Wh'*- it out here,, but it don't last long-

SS: Well, I was going to ask you too about some of these religious groups. Did you ever hear about the spriitualists around Juliaetta?

EG: (Laughter) Yes!

SS: What did you hear about them?

EG: Huh?

SS: What do you know about them?

EG: Well, they run the post office, and the old man, name of feller the name of ftiller, he was a Methodist preacher here and he told about 'em; what they done. Said they was out one time and they was a- went out to gather some wood, a log, and he said the horses they pulled and they pulled on the log and said they couldn't pull it. And they said Shawn, he was a German, he said Shawn he said^at down and he put his face in his hands and he says, "I know he was atalkin' with the spirits." Pretty soon, he says, "He raised up ," and he says, "Father, father," he says, "the spirits do say there's a limb fastened into the ground." Well, an ordinary log that a team couldn't pull, a man ought to knowed he'd better roll that log over.

SS: One thing I heard about these spiritualists is that they— one of 'em had a dream that there was coal to be found.

EG: Yes, I've heard that, that they had dreams and there was a hole dug up here in the hill, it's still up there, people go back in it once in a while. And then there was one down here, oh, I don't know how far it was; how deep it was, but it was dug in here where that water comes over the hill there the other side of George Johnson's, that big spring, it come right over the top of it, and the road that's in there now dug it all out, but a slide come over there and buried it for years. And the funny thing about that was that that was the first time we took our cattle to the mountain. And when my brother, Will, and Marion and my Dad and myself we started out with the cattle and my sister and Grover had a hooking onto a hack and had four horses on a wagon and they was gonna folow and they had our grub, well, Will and my dad had their coats on the wagon. We come on up here and got way up here on the hill and we could look back and we could see clear to the Little Pot latch and we couldn't see nobody there, no one on the road acomin', so we went on, we had no dinner, we got into Leland after dark and there wasn't no supper and we had a dairy outfit there, we couldn't milk the cows, and we didn't know what the world was wrong, but after we went through with the cattle there was a slide come,Nright down over that hill there, and my brother had to work til three o'clock— took 'em til three o'clock to get a hole through there thot he could drag* the outfit through. And Dad he come on up, and up there before you get into Leland there's two roads, they go right this way, a mile and a half to Leland. And when you stop there at 'em, and you're not used to the country, which road is it that takes you a mile and a half to Leland. I had been through there a time or two and I made the mistake of takin' this one. This one takes you back over here through Cameron and then you come back— about five miles ahead, you'll come back to the other road again. So, that's what Grover done, he took that road and so, we didn't get up with him til about ten o'clock the next day. (Oh, there's a humming bird in the window there.)

SS: Oh.

EG: We got a feeder over there but he's getting to the wrong side of the house. So, it rained on us some, got them pretty wet. My brother and I had horses and we had our coats along with us; Marion and I, but Dad and Grover and Will didn't have no coat. Didn't have no supper. We went on out. We went on out to- clear to the head of Bedrock Canyon the next morning and there was a fellow, Hewitts and got breakfast there. They give us A. breakfast. We went and bought c*~ breakfast from 'em. And then we got on over pretty well to Cavendish and run onto to Grover. He found out when he got on the right load, he come back meetin' us to see where we was, but we found out what they'd done. So that was one hole they had dug in there and this one up here and then there's a little hole dug over there from the old Myrtle bridge up there a little ways up on the hill. And I don't know, there may be several others, but them's all the ones I ever heard of; that I know of 'em diggin'.

SS: Did that hole cause the slide?

EG: No, it had nothing to do with it.

SS: So the spiritualists were kind of a strange bunch? I wonder what a spiritualist was? What you were if you were a—

EG: Miller was telling about coming there after his mail and they had the door lockedS— "knowed it was you," he says, "the womens," he says, "they have a spiritual meeting." And, he says, "You come make noises and frighten away the spirits." But the two girls, Julia and Etta, that the town's named after here, they was down there to home and Julia got two big knives and she went around the house with these knives, throwing around in the air, you know in different ways, and and was going around the house thataway. The old man says, "Shoot, just atalkin' tongues. So he set down— she musta stayed quite a while because he sent down and got Mox Mox— that's where that concrete house is, Peopeo Mox Mox was the chief, he had him to come up and interpret what she said. Mox Mox he come up and looked at her; "he no Indian man. He no Boston man." "All the same big fool." And he turned around and rode off.

SS: He no Boston man?

EG: Boston man that's what they called the white man.

SS: All the same big fool.

EG: Huh?

SS: All the same big fool.

EG: All the same big fool, yeah. There was a fella down here at Spalding telling about his being in the Army,fellow the name of Powell, he's dead now, but he was tellin' about havin' to guard a negro. One of them Southerners, you know that was hostile to white people. They had reasons to be; : - and yet they had no more reason to be hostile to the white man than the crazy white man had towards them; but they was a hostility between 'em. And this fella had to guard this fella out while he was a policin' up around the place, you know, clean ing up, and this feller said that that nigger made a run at him. And he said when he stopped that bayonet was about that far from his neck.

SS: The what?

EG: He says, "My bayonet was about that far from his neck, when he stopped." And he says, "I saw him." "Now see here fella, I haven't got a thing against you." But, he says, "I've got this job to do," he says, "I'm gonna do it." And he talked to him and reasoned it out. Well, from that time on this nigger was his friend. And, he said, they'd stand around there when there was no officers around, they'd stand and talk and as soon as an officer would come in sight this nigger would see him first, and oh, he'd just be busy, you know, just aworkin just for all there was, policin' up and as soon as the officer was outta sight they'd stand and talk again. They was good friends. But, tha£nigger had to, well— I don't know what'd a happened if that had been a Sou thern man that he'd got that close. One of those old Southerners woulda most likely a give that gun a little boost, They didn't negro very much back in them old times.

SS: Do you think they felt about the same way towards negroes in the South as the whites felt about Indians out here?

EG: Yes.

SS: Was it similar, do you think, or was it different?

EG: Well, I don't think they was quite as bad against the Indians as they was the negroes. Well, there was more whites and Indians married up— well, I don't know as any more of 'em mixed up than they was niggers or not. If you had a television- a colored television- and looked at them freedom marches, that there used to, There d be every color from a coal black to a white that was nigger blood in 'em mixed up. Well, if a white man - well if a white woman accused a nigger woman of attacking her, well, that was justAtoo bad for him. I heard of one that was accused of attacking a white woman and they just rok him and tied him and tied his feet up to the bumper of a car and started drivin' and didn't stop til there was nothing left but his shin bones, just wore him out. So, ah, they was— them whites was rough on black men if they come mixin' up with the white women, but it was altogether different when it went the other way. White men and black women. Well, they was thousands of them white Southern slave holders that had a lot of nigger women and they bred them women theirselves and they raised them half-breed kids and sold 'em. And they was a higher priced than what the regular nigger was. Oh, I don't know, this white man is awful good, but I'll tell you right now he's done— sometimes I think there wouldn't a been a hell if it hadn't been for the white man! All the things that he done. He's supposed to know better but he sure didn't do it.

SS: Talking about religion before; I was thinking: Was there any kind of church that the families around Arrow went to?

EG: Oh, yeah, they had a Luteran Church down there a while; and Lutherans and Methodists.

DG: They used the schoolhouse for a church.

EG: They used the schoolhouse there then a lot.

SS: Was that mostly the Grosecloses and those folks?

EG: Grosecloses and Wilsons and Gibbses. There was a— Old Gibbs, he was from Tennessee. Then there was the Barnetts, I forgot about, they was Virginians; come from the same Ceres that we come from there.

SS: Geres?

EG: Yeah. That's the only town that's mentioned in about half of Bland County.

SS: Bland? B-1-a-n-d?

EG: Yeah. Bland County. And, it's out there and there's no railroad in twenty miles of it.

SS: So most of the Grosecloses, those folks, were they all Lutherans?

EG: Well, Lutherans and Methodists. Run heavy to Lutherans.

SS: Was there much revivalism in the early church?

EG: The Methodists— the Lutherans wasn't; they wasn't a revival people.

DG: They had meetings though occasionally. The Methodists were pretty much to hold revivals. But back then, why, you know people had to ride horseback or walk, but gee they was people, older people, too, that would walk four and five miles to get down to the schoolhouse to have prayer meeting. They had prayer meeting there, you know, a lot of the time. You remember the old Tabers would come down.

EG: Oh, yeah. That was the upper schoolhouse down here.

DG: Well, they were down to Arrow sometimes, too.

EG: Yeah. They had a big revival up here. That was the cleanest revival I ever seen. Everybody was converted but about two or three in the whole country. They all made profession there. ..An awful lot of 'em went clear back the other way, though, again.

DG: But they did have revival two or three times a year.

SS: What were those revivals like, in those days? I'm sure that it has changed some between then and now.

EG: Well, the Nazarenes they have 'em just the same.

DG: Pretty much the same as they were then.

SS: But you say that everybody was converted? That's a little unusual.

EG: Yes, I said that was the cleanest sweep that I ever seen, was that there.

DG: Not always that they all are converted, but it seemed like there was more respect, I think, for religion clear back then Well, there's one thing; they went to church a little more. They didn't have transportation and roads, you know, and all these other things that they have on Sunday afternoon.

EG: Everybody went to church then, infidels and everything else.

SS: Was this revival at the schoolhouse?

EG: Yeah. This one was up here where this old concrete schoolhouse is now, wooden schoolhouse there. Yeah, they had a great revival there. They went along quite a while before they got any stirrin and then they all went and converted. I wouldn't go up there, I told 'em I'd have to be late at school, lose too much sleep and I wouldn't go for a long time, and finally I went up one night. And boy, when I come back I come back different to what I went up there. After that they kept a growin' and there never was a night too cold or anything else for me to go to church after that. I was up there, and down to zero; it was two miles and a half, three to ride, but I went every night after that one night up there.

SS: Can you remember what happened, what it was like?

EG: Huh?

SS: What it was like? What happened to you that changed you there?

EG: Well, they just asked the Lord to forgive your sins and that was it. If you meant it.

DG: What was it now? Carol said heAheard you tell about your experience one time when some of the others went up and you thought you wasn't interested, and then all at once you wanted to be up there with them.

EG: Oh, that was the time that I wouldn't go to church around there that time, that one night I went up there and I seen all them little devils that we used to be out with there all up there a prayin' and that was too much for me.

DG: He got up and went and prayed with 'em. (Chuckles)

EG: But when I was up on the Fix Ridge, there was brother was a havin' a revival meeting up there and they had the sermon and they made their altar call and there weren't many people from Fix Ridge there that day and not many from Union, but there was a Eckman from Union and me, we was there together and so after the preachin' was over and they went to make an altar call, Eckman says, "Let's go outside." So I went out, so after we went out and we got outside there was two fel lows awalkin', old fellows awalkin' around there, Jim Hitchison and Bill Patrick. We went up to the toilets when we went out, and we passed by and Old Jim Hutchison he says to Bill,"You know," he says, "it got pretty warm in there. I got out of there." Says, "You know, they might hypnotize a fella." Yeah, he was a infidel, but it just got too warm for him, he got out.

SS: When you say prayer meetings; what do you mean by the prayer meeting back then?

DG: Well, they would meet- a lot of places have prayer meetings.

EG: They would meet and sing and have prayers and a lot of 'em praying and testifying and things like that. They had no preacher there at them times.

SS: It wouldn't be like a Sunday service then? More or less?

DG: No, there'd just be, just some one would hold it without a pastor, you know, they just have a scripture and have someone to lead the prayer one time, maybe another one the next. And they'd have, you know, dis cussions. Just testimonies and the experiences that they had in their religious life. And then they didn't stand to pray like they do now, they went down on their knees by their seats. Most all the prayer meet ings back at that time and prayer of any kind, people were kneeling. Well, some kneel, but mostly they stand.

SS: Would the different denominations like Lutherans and Methodists, would they combine together for services like that or would they keep them separate?

DG: Well, down at Arrow they was members of the different churches there. They had the Lutheran Church and the Methodist-

EG: Well, it was just a little community and they all come together there.

DG: They all kinda worshiped together, you know. Mostly a Lutheran minister in there, but there was a Methodist minister in there for a long time, too.

SS: Was there any certain few people that led the services usually?

EG: Yeah. £hey had a superintendent of Sunday School and he gener ally led the Sunday School part of it, and then the preacher come and had the other. If they had a prayer service, why, they used to have different ones and then sometimes they'd have different ones to teach the Sunday School; the superintendent was running the whole church, the whole school, but then they had different teachers teach different classes in the Sunday School.

DG: Well, they'd usually have a secretary and treasurer^and so forth.

SS: Did you find when you were a youngster growing up that religion was very important in your life?

DG: Well, yes. I look at the grandchildren and the children of today and it's kind of hard to just see the difference and the ideas and things, you know. And it was really quite a part of our life, because, you know, I was just always used to church and then stayed at my grand father's a lot and he always had prayer morning and night, you know, family worship. And so, it was quite an important part. And now, you know, there's some beliefs or some religions that don't believe in saluting the flag and things like that. And that always kinda puzzled me, because in school the flag was very important to me. But, never once did it ever enter that it was before God, you know, that God was first and that was the symbol of our country, and you know, freedom of the country, and you love the country, you know, but it always puzzled me because never to me did I ever in any way consider that that flag detracts anything from God.

EG: Well, we claim— we put it on our money, "In God We Trust." So, our country here is supposed to be a God-fearing nation, but they've done some awful dirty tricks. Like the way they come here and took the Indians' land away from 'em for a little nothing. Just drove 'em around like they was a bunch of cattle. If they wanted a piece of land an Indian had they'd get out and get that.

DG: I think I've got most of that figured out. It's not very good writing either, but this other is dim. If just for fun you'd like to read it or have it sometime. And if I find those other things around here sometime, I should.put 'em where we know where they are.

SS: You just mentioned the family worship; I'm wondering what that was like in your family.

DG: When I was a child?

SS: Yes.

DG: Well, they would get up of a morning and grandpa and his family, you know, my uncles and all.aunts; there was several of 'em lived there at that time together. And they would go on out and feed their stock and do the necessary chores while the women got breakfast. And the women would have the breakfast all ready and then when the men got the chores all , why, they come back in and they all had to gather in the living room by a fireplace, and grandpa'd always read from the Bible, and kneel by the chairs to have prayer, and then they'd go and eat. They did this before they'd eat. And at night- evenings - it was the same way. They got their chores did and the evening meal was all ready, but before they ate a chapter or so out of the Bible and had prayer. And my memories of my granddad, you know, he was very religious. And there was one old fellow that was a neighbor and they said they used to go by riding by the road and my granddad would be out working in the field and said he'd be plowing a while and then he'd stop the plow and he'd kneel down by the plow, and he figured he was prayin', and he said,jC used to think, that man says more prayers than anybody I know of." But, he says, "When I got older and everything," he said, "I realized that he never said a prayer he didn't need to say." He figured it took a lot of prayer to kinda keep going, you know, things that bothered. But he said that he used to think that MarsOaugh done more prayin' than anybody he knew, but he said, "I lived to know that realize, that I don't think he ever said a prayer that he didn't need to."

SS: Did that recognize that life was rough and that you needed a lot of help to get through?

DG: Well, I think that they did, and was more willing to go for help; ask for it or something. I don't know, to me, as I have gone through the years, it seems like there was much more respect for religion. that time, even those that weren't Christians, why, they didn't make fun, they would go to church. Maybe some of the guys that drank or you might call the country rowdies and all like that, why, when Sunday come they didn't work. Nobody worked on Sunday. And they might get drunk on Saturday night but they'd be sober and in church on Sunday, even what you'd call the roughnecks.

EG: There was no work on Sunday, no wood cuttin'—

SS: There was no work on Sunday?

EG: They didn't even cut wood on Sunday. They had it cut on Saturday eve ning.

DG: Everything was done up. All that you did was the chores and your meals on Sunday and go to church. Maybe in the afternoons you might visit some sick person or something that way.

SS: So there wasn't too much just community fun on Sunday after church?

DG: Wasn't too much goin' only just some of the neighbors would maybe get together someplaces and they might play croquet or a little game of ball in the yard or some, oh, you know, just a bunch gather at some home or something that way.

EG: (Chuckles) Well,.the funniest games they had back in the East, that was chestnut country back there, was playin' hull-gull. They would all have a bunch of chestnuts or cheekapins and you would get out there, and well, there'd generally be a girl and a boy get together, you know, and jJnave their cheekapins or their chestnuts and they d hide around this way and they'd put so many chestnuts in their hands and they they'd put the other one over the other way, come back there and say Lull-gull and the other one'd say "How many?" and they'd tell them to guess how many. Well, they'd guess how many chestnuts they had in their hand. If they guessed right, they got 'em all, they got the chestnuts. Well, if you had two in your hand and they guessed five you had to give 'em three to make it five. Then the other one they'd come back at you thataway, and sometimes they'd have a whole handful and then, I forget what you done - if you had ten and guessed six, I don't know just what it was anymore. I forgot what they done.

SS: How many people would play at once?

EG: Oh, just two. Well, they might get together and go around that way. Four or five and each one'd come $ach time and each one have— Get the hands the other way and they'd press on their hands to see if they're solid or how it was. And they'd have a lot of fun in the ev ening playing with them chestnuts.

DG: I think that anyone that didn't have religious training when they were young, have really missed a lot, because, to me, why, I think of Thanksgiving and think of the things you're grateful for and thank ful for— I make as many mistakes, goodness knows, as anybody and fail to live up to all the Ten Commandments as good as I should, but it always seemed to me :Ktne thing that meant the most to me, was the fact that I was taught religion, you know, about the Lord.

EG: Well, the old-time Bible, back there, I don't know exactly how it says it, but it says that you was to teach your children the laws, the Com mandments, you write it on the doorsill and over the door and talk to the family about it all the time. Well, nowadays- then they taught it in the church, they taught it in the schools, they taught it every where, but our country here calls itself a religious nation and a real religious nation, well, there's 40,000,000 that claim to be reli gious, claim to be church people out of over 200,000,000, and now then they've got down to- they won't allow the Bible to be read in the schools they say it's ateachin' different religion. Well, now then, you can go in the Bible and hunt out your different passages and find in there what you want. Now, one of the Mormons main religions, they believe in the prophets and there main verse is, "He sit them in the church, prophets and teachers", yeah, prophets and teachers, and several other things there, "and speaking in tongues-" And prophets and teachers and different things that way each one of them fellers has his separate thing. Not ary one of 'em is all them things, but he's put them — they say the different ones that has different things to do. But that's one of their main verse in the Bible, that they put that in there. And that's the Mormons. Well, the others have different verses to hunt out, can show ya. But, when you turn in there and read the whole thing through and you don't stop with that verse;^don't stop with them particular verses go right on and read the rest of it on through there, why, I can't see anything in it that teaches people to be Catholics or Lutherans or Mormons or anything about it, if you read it. And then they take it clear out of. school, and there are none read. I read when I was a kid, my Fourth grade had a story in there about Ulysses exploring a river and he found a cave up on the hill. Went up there was a big one-eyed giant up there with a bunch of sheep. This giant eat up a couple of of his men and then he give 'em a gallon or such a matter of wine that they had so strong that no ordinary man could drink it. He drunk that and got him in the cave, back of him, and drunk that and laid down to sleep. And they found a pole back there and hid it in the brush somewhere til they got him asleep, then they jabbed his eye out and then Ulysses he tied his men underneath the sheep, so that this feller had to count 'em with his hand, you know when he went out and he couldn't see, and he put all his men underneath them sheep and he got under a big buck and rode it out by this giant and they got away that.way. Now if that ain't a fantastic story, to think that a man can ride under a sheep. A man is longer than a sheep, and a sheep is only about that fur from the ground. Where is there room for a man to be under a sheep's belly and then it walk out? Now that thing was taught in the Fourth grade. Then it come to the Fifth, they taught all the Greek gods. You might say the Greek Pible was in the Fifth grade. That was all come up, but our real Bible— oh, no, no, - If I was arunnin' the country there I would put that Bible in the school as a Fifth grade reader. I know when I was a kid I didn't care to hear the Bible. If it was read at school, I'd be adoin' something else, I wouldn't listen at it. But, there is things in there, things that are true and people needs to know, and if I was arunnin' the show, I would put the Bible in the schools as a Fifth grade reader.

SS: I was going to ask you about how religious you'd think that the—

EG: Now, here's a fellow, Lou Steineker, he was an infidel, you might say he was an infidel preacher, he talked that ^every time you seen him, he was talkin' about it infidel. And he was talkin' to a fella one time, another infidel, he says, "I read the damned old Bible through last winter through three times and some part of it some more, and," he says, "I didn't find a thing in there but what we could do very well without." The other feller says, "By Jesus Christ, I wouldn't fool that much time away with it." Lou said, "Who, who did you say?" "Oh," he says, "I use that expression sometimes when I'm talkin',"

DG: But even so, the infidels when they get in pain or get in trouble, why, they moan and mourn and, "Oh, Lord," and all that, too, you know. As anybody's religion far as I'm concerned, I respect , and their idea and their way of life.

EG: I heard of an infidel- they told a story-

Side D

DG: of repentance and the baptism , and you know trying to live good life. And as far as you^going to be a Methodist or Catholic or as to something, I don't expect to be questioned «maybe I'm wrong, but I don't expect to be asked, "Well, are you a Methodist, or are you a Jehova, or are you, you know something else."

EG: They used to have quite a infidel organization one time at a place. And there was one of the fellas told 'em, he says, "When I die," he says, "if there's a hell," he says, "I'll come back and tell ya." So there was a young fella in town there, he was just a easygoin' sort of a young fella; he never spun any big yarns, or he never told any, you know,— he was just an ordinary fella, nothing to be said much about, and he come in the place one night, and he says','l seen so-and-so down here," he says, "and I was gonna speak to him and he vanished." And he said that caused more among them infidels than anything that ever happened. Well, this fella, he wasn't a hot air peddler, he was never any man to - any young fella to make up any stories or anything like that, but he just walked in there and told 'em that.

SS: Was this supposed to have happened around here?

EG: Huh?

SS: Was this supposed to have happened around here?

EG: No, that was somewhere else, I don't know where it was that this happened, that didn't happen around here. But, that sure put the infidels to guessin'.

SS: Well, talking about the good and not so good ways of living, I've got to ask you a little bit about moonshining in the days when you weren't supposed to be- when it was illegal to make the booze. Was there quite a bit of that around that you knew of? Moonshining and the bootlegging?

EG: Well that moonshin in' and the bootlegging was quite a— Say, they put out some pretty good places. Down here-

DG: We know of, in fact, there was some going on not far from we lived; we never entered into anything like that.

EG: Down here this side- well, it's on Albright's place now, it was the Indian place though. There was an old fella had it rented and a bootlegger- a moonshiner come down there and stayed with him, and they went up below a big spring and they went up the draw where it had kinda washed out and there was a great, big thornbush there and they went from there and dug a tunnel, and fixed em in a still, under ground, way up the hill there. And the Indians used to come around and get drunk and then Old Jack Zumpff, he lived in that old house that's down there. The Indians'd come around there. So he went over and told Old Franc Henry, say, "If you're gonna have them Indians adrinkin' around here," says, "keep 'em over at your place." He says, "I don't want 'em around mine." So, it made this here bootlegger madthis moonshiner mad- he was in the other room and he come up and slap ped Old Jack's face. Old Jack'd drink; he was a drinkin' man alright, but when this here bootlegger come out and slapped his face, he says, "I'll squeal on ya." So he went out of the house and they watched him and he didn't go home, he took the railroad track and started down it, so they ditched the^outfit and both of 'em took a trip to Spokane. And the moonshiner, he never come back. But they was an Indian showed 'em the place, I don't think anybody would ever found it, « In dian, Amos Williams, hadn't aknowed where it was and went up there and showed 'em. Because they went up this draw that had been washed out with water and a ditch there, and they went up it under these great, big thornbrush, and then turned off in this tunnel, I don't know how far it was there. I seen the place, my brother and his father-in-law had it rented and I seen the place after it had caved in. They dug quite a ways up there and made a tunnel.

SS: Well I kind of had the idea that a lot of the good moonshine that was made in through this country was made by people from Kentuckyand Ten nessee, because they had a family- some family tradition- of making moonshine for a long time. They could make it quite a lot better than some of these people that didn't have like, say, a family recipe or that kind of thing. That's what I've heard in other parts of this coun ty.

EG: Yes, they was a lot a- they was a lot of moonshine made- well, they made it before, when it was legal to make it, why, they made it. I was tickled when Roosevelt said they'd make legal booze and sell it so cheap they couldn't afford to moonshine. Well I know when we aome West, a neighbor come with us to Spokane and him and my dad bought a gallon and brought it with 'em on the train, and I think it was a dol lar and sixty cents, if I remember right, for that. Legal stuff. And yet, they was amakin' moonshine. Now then, of course, the moonshine, I guess was as good as the other, but then they didn't pay the— they didn t pay, I don t know how much revenue they paid on it. But that was a revenue, but this one Barnett, Jim Barnett, come out here, and he hauled booze from Virginia into Tennessee for eight years with a wagon, hauled it at night. And a couple of fellows wanted him to get and he him a drink,got a drink for two or three fellas, and he said he got three indictments against him. He found it out before they picked him up and he told his dad what was up and he left. And he had two bro thers in Iowa; he come out there, and one of the brothers knew that he was in Iowa, but the other one didn't. But their father hung himself, and one asked the other, well how could they ever let Jim know about that. "Well," the other one says, "I can have Jim here in two hours." Well then, he got in a fight with some Greeks, he got a club; he liked to killed one he come pretty near going to the pen over it. And Jim couldn't read nor write, but he was a good-hearted fella, but he did like booze. But he come up and worked for my brother and I skiddin' poles up in the hills one time. He was sore at all Greeks, and his niice come out here from the East, he'd never seen her and he was all tickled when she come, but she got a goin' with a Greek section boss and married him. And, boy, that pertnear killed Old Jim when they done that; that his n'^ce would marry that Greek. And my brother come out to work one day and he was about a bustin' a laughin', and he said, "Jim was a talkin' in there and he said that history taught that the Greeks was the lowest down class of people in the world next to the nigger." And he was tellin' what history taught and he couldn't read a word.

DG: But if it was nowadays with the radio and the television and all the you'd listening, why, get a lot of that.

EG: Well, they wasn't any television. There wasn't a radio then and like that.

DG: Them days. in other words,

SS: He didn't know what history taught, He didn't know.

EG: Well, he used to run with a fella by the name of Stefus, Bill Stefus. And I had an idea maybe Bill- Bill come West with the Barnetts. I don't what maybe he was in on the deal, anyway, he musta been the one that give Jim the information about the Greeks. But, anyway that was his - history taught that.

SS: One thing I was gonna ask you about. . about how important church was to people or the community- I wonder would you say that be side that was there anything else that really held the community to gether?

You mean besides the church?

Yeah. Was the church—?

You mean when ww were young?

Yeah, yeah.

Well, they used to have literaries. Up til all that'flu come in in late 1918, they never have had an organization in the country since, but up to that time, they had 'em everywhere, and they had an awful lot of fun in there debatin' on some- sometimes they had pretty good things to debate on and sometimes, well, one thing they'd debate on was the horse and the cow.

SS: The horse and the cow?

EG: Yeah, which was the most useful to man, the horse or the cow. And the broom and the dishrag. Them was just funny— just kids to debate on th^nf there.

DG: Don't you think, Ed, like when we were young and back in Virginia, for instance, like the community— it seemed like that there wouldn't be very many, apparently what you'd say wealthy people, and there was the church— but there was a neighborliness, and there was a kind of a trade if you didn't have money, why, you could, maybe trade cabbage for corn, wheat- you know, and trade back and forth. And I don't know whether it was because they were kinda poor, but it did seem like that for miles that people, you know, would just come if you waaj sick, any body got sick- and, of course, they do that a lot now in some places, too, you do hear of it or read of it, and they'd come in and fix a man's field, you know,^their machinery. But then, you know, we had to do it the hard way, but if he was puttin' up a barn or if his roof needed fixing or he didn't have his winter's wood and he'd have an accident or get sick, well, for miles around people would just come in and they'd do the work and help out. Or they'd have what you call cornhusking bees or logrolling bees or they'd just put out the day and the women would cook the meals; everybody would gather, you know, and they'd fly in and they'd get things fixed up for the—

EG: Yeah, cornhusking was a great thing. Put the corn in one big pile and then get everybody there to shuck it. They'd divide it in the middle and see which ones could get to the center first, and then anybody that found a red ear of corn got to kiss the prettiest girl in the house. Oh, they had a lot of fun. And then lots of times they'd have- after that- they'd have a barndance someplaces, if they was dancin' people, and if they wasn't, why, they didn't.

SS: Was it different- would you think it was much different between there and out here, that way?

DG: Well, it wasn't so— I don't know whether it was so much, you know, several years back, when we first come out. 'Course we got out here among quite a few Indians, but then we knowed the people that knew us, but it seemed to me like— Well, now, take it back there when I was a kid, it was very disrespectful if anyone died if you ever knew their friends or any of their relatives for you not to attend the service . And children, they took you right along. I can remember going to many funerals. And where we had to go with a team and everything, with maybe just a hack or a wagon, it might be fifteen miles to where a funeral was, you know, and I used to kinda wonder because, it wouldnft be anyone only just someone that we'd heard of, the folks didn't know but they happened to know some of their relatives or some of their friends. So, it was very disrespectful if you didn't, everybody go. And you know now they don't take children, and children don't go to church, or if they do, they have a—

SS: Was there more neighborliness, do you think back there in Virginia than there was out here?

DG: Well, it seems to me like there was more neighborliness farther out, branched out farther, than^your o*mjust little circle. And, I don't know whether he noticed, but when I think about it, and it maybe just notions of mine, it seemed to me like that there was more of a close ness, more like it was a big family. There wasn't as many different churches. Now even back there, where we come from they got four or five churches in this little community where one church practically, held all of the people that had come all over, you know. They would associate all together, you know.

SS: So, it kind of sounds like maybe what you're thinking is that out here there was neighborliness too, but it was a much smaller circle than back there. Back there it went further; included more different people.

DG: I don't know. Maybe in a way,but I got the idea that it was done more without expecting anything in return, or so to speak, you know, neigh borliness. But it's human nature to feel that way; if I've done some thing for them, and, gee, I did that years ago, and here I am and they can't look at me now.

SS: Out here did you feel that the Indians were quite separate from your community?

DG: Well, right at first, and then, of course, I went to school with some Indian children. And, of course, I just heard the Indian stories coming out here when I was seven years old; all these stories, so to me the country was so different. When we landed here it wasn't thick settled, and then, of course, I was used to going to church every Sunknowing day with about three or four dozen kids in the class and £o many peo ple, and then I just had to get acquainted with new kids, you know when we got out here. And then there was enough Indians lived around and one in fact lived about a mile of us, an old fellow, and they said that he had scalps hangin' in his cabin, which I guess was true. Some people said they'd seen it. Well, I was just petrified, you know to think about .."around and was so scared that I was afraid to practically step out of the house.

EG: All them dirty stories they told about the Indians, how mean they was, and got out here among 'em, why, people heard them stories, they was scared to death of 'em. Well, they never was among a better bunch of people in their lives than th Indians. Now, if some of 'em had got drunk, they'd get dirty sometimes.

DG: On the train coming out— Coming out here, oh, I don't remember just where it was, but I guess it was about half way out; took about four or five days on the train then to make the trip, and somewhere along the line an Indian got on the train, and when I seen him I crouched down in the seat and I kinda covered up and I bet you there was never a better kid on the train traveling, or stayed any quieter than I was. I was scared to death all the time that Indian was on there, I didn't hardly move or say','I'm tired','or, "I want a book to read." Or, "Mom do this,"or anything else. (Chuckles)

SS: I guess one difference, when I think about it, from what I know, be tween back there in the South and out here! You didn't have cornhuskings and you didn't have logrollings, either. Did you?

EG: No, no they didnrt log rolling, not in this country here anyway, 'cause they no logs to roll.

DG: Well, they built log houses, and log barns, and the log rollin' was just simply when they was gettin' out wood or putting up buildings, you know. Helping each other out. Then there was so much trade. You could do so much without money. Maybe one person would have been for tunate enough to have a bunch of hogs, and maybe some neighbor, you know, two or three miles away hadn't had any for meat, but he might have had a lot of potatoes or corn or something that this other person needed, well, then they would trade. You know, they'd find out and they'd trade. And if they found out anybody was in need, why, everybody of what they had

SS: Was there much of that out here? Did you trade very much out here?

DG: Well, I think they did swap work to some extent.

EG: They had the railroads here and they had sales for such here. Now they put out big orchards here and they used to make lots of money a sellin' fruit. Prunes— big prune orchards and prune driers and they used to make lots of money off of that stuff around here, you know. But you'd sell it— Back East, they had no sales; very much sales of that stuff, too far from the railroad.

SS: It's funny because it sounds like what you're saying is in a way that it was more pioneering back there than out here even though this was newer country.

EG: Uh-huh.

DG: What anybody had, they were sure willing to share.

EG: One time back there most of the people didn't have a good crop of cher ries, but there was one fella that did have, and he sent out word for all of his friends to come and set cherries at his place. He says, "I never knew I had so many friends until I had the cherries to give away.'' (Chuckles)

SS: Did everybody always have enough out here? Different kinds of things to eat, or was there some of this trading off going on here, too?

EG: Well, they had— after we come here, why most all of— The old fellers that settled around in here, they all had orchards and stuff growed up before we come here. 'Course, the first ones that come had to wait til their stuff growed up, but they all had their hogs.

DG: — hogs and chickens and their cows, and most of 'em, you might say was able to eat, you know. They didn't have a lot of times much, oh, like to buy extra clothing and things like that. And they didn't have the rummage sales or you didn't get clothing— sometimes, somebody would give you some that they'd outgrown*that was good, but it sure wasn t a time of going out and living off the Good Will or your yard sales, like we do "somebody givin' us ..of our clothes. We get along now on what we make We have so much gfcive to us, we seldom anything, maybe a pair of shoes once in a while. Them— the pair of shoes he's got on there now, I got for a quarter. And people pass on you know, and know^us and he's a big man and they fit. Aid we was to a yard sale,' yesterday and those shirts there, they got 'em for fifteen cents apiece; happened to be sizes that he could wear. And mostly they're kinda on ^ Sunday order, but if he needs to, he can wear 'em for everyday, because there's a lot of the time that he—

EG: Haven't got much of a Sunday anymore anyway.

SS: One thing I was thinking of, was butchering bees; did you have those here? Butcherinft bees?

EG: No, I—

DG: Well we used to get people to come and help butcher, you know.

EG: Neighbors come and help one another, but not big, like they had back East there. Back East they let their hogs run in the hills and they eat acorns and chestnuts, they growed most of theirselves on acorns and chestnuts back in the hills there, and then they'd get 'em in in the fall and feed 'em up on corn a while, finish 'em out on corn. One year, my dad had quite a bunch of pigs he turned out in the hills and there was a frost that killed the mass, as they called it, the chestnuts and acorns. They was very little of it in the hills, and them pigs didn't grow very good, and he had a short corn crop. He brought 'em home and he had no corn to feed 'em, there was nothing to do but butcher what he had. So there was a poor fellow lived over in the hills and he come over there and my dad sive him six of the midlings off a them hogs—

SS: Six of the what?

EG: Six of the side meat of them hog, they called them middlings; they come between the hams and the shoulders. Give him six of them and he had them on his back and goin' along, goin' over the hill he passed an old lady's place out pretty close there and she called him— his name was Lavender, but she called him Malatimer, she hollered out and hollered out, "Hey, Malatimer, Malatimer, where'd you git them window lights?"

SS: Where'd you get them window-?

EG: Window lights, yeah. Window panes. Oh, I don't suppose they'd be over that thick, you know. Just yearlin' pigs.

DG: We made so many of the things back them days, you know like they made the maple sugar and their cane molasses. My folks would have— start the winter, why, they'd have barrels- they used barrels for about ev erything, wooden barrels- big barrels of cabbage, kraut and—

EG: The people should now- the way things are going now- they should when they're planting a shade tree- now these are maples here, but they're not sugar maple- a fellow should get him some sugar maple trees and put 'em out. He could cut down on this sugar business quite a bit by having a maple tree; sugar maple. Well, I've made a little bit of syrup outta these, but I never had more than a gallon of water and it takes, oh, something like a hundred to one to get that boiled down- boil otft a hundred gallon of water and get one gallon of syrup, or sugar.

SS: I've heard that— someone said to me that Grosecloses brought out the original blackberries that grow in this valley. Think that's true?

EG: No.

DG: Now, Marion had some regular blackberries. Did he bring 'em?

EG: Old Man Kimberling that blackberry that grows about that high. The one kind. But these here- oh what they called the wildthese Himalyas. Himalaya blackberries.

SS: That's the one I mean was supposed to have got ahold of one and started it from somebody. But she didn't bring it from the East.

EG: No, I don't know— no, she ordered some thornless. Well, the thornless berry is alright; you plant 'em- get 'em and plant 'em, I don't know how that is- but you plant that thornless berry and it'll be a thornless berry as long as it keeps agrowin' from the top, but if you get that top killed back to the ground and it comes up again, it'll be a thorn. So that's what these down here by George Johnson^ my aunt started them there, but she got a thornless and put it in there and it died and the thorns started there. But these others, a lot of 'em, I don't know how they got started from one place to the other. And my brother, Will, had about six plants of 'em down in the Catholic Gulch and he give my sister some, up on her place there where Albrights got and we put some up above our spring on the side hill, and then we took some and planted 'em down in the brush and I got some later and took 'em and planted 'em down by the railroad. I helped scatter 'em, but then a lot of the oth ers they scattered on their own, some way- that they got scattered through the country so much.

SS: Do you think that there was wild blackberries in the country before the people came?

EG: No. These is all that—

DG: There were a lot more wild berries back in Virginia than there are out here.

EG: Oh, yes, there was wild blackcaps back there. We called 'em raspber ries; black raspberries and red ones, was what they was. Well, they was wild blackcaps in this country, too.

DG: And strawberries. There's lots of wild strawberries. You know they awful never got so very big, but they were^good and people went out and picked and gathered—. There was so much of the living that they could just cf you know, and the huckleberries— the folks would take baskets, every thing was baskets instead of buckets— Go out early in the morning and come back just about dark and they'd have three or four gallon a piece.

EG: We think here about goin' hucklebarrying a way back, but then they lived right in the woods where the huckleberries were only a half a mile or so back from the house there, just a little ways back in the hills from where they was. They lived in huckleberry country.

DG: The chestnut trees died out, but there used to be, what they called that we'd go and gather in, and then the chestnuts.

EG: The wasn t any bigger than your little finger; just small, nice little nut and they grow on a bush. It never got, I don't suppose they ever got ten feet high. Just a bunch of brush; them grow on that. But a chestnut tree, I don't know how big they did get.

SS: Well they brought out some chestnut trees, too, didn't they? From the South? Because I noticed there's a lot of chestnuts around this country.

EG: Yes a few people got chestnut trees around in this country. But a di sease went through the country back there. Well, a disease that was just about the same thing as what got into the fir. I seen some chest nut poles that they had for rafters back there, and what got 'em was a little bug or worm, that just went and cut the sap— went under the main bark and cut the sap-bark in two, and just cut it so many places that it killed the trees. i

DG: Well the fchiagr- rcybe because it was because I was a kid- and maybe I missed the maple trees and the chestnuts and the black walnuts— 'course, they raise some black walnuts here, but it seems like when I think back that outside of just some clothes,- why, they made their maple syrup and cane syrup and nearly everybody, you know had a patch of cabbage, and they'd have this great, big fifty gallon barrel or so made up of kraut, and then we liked kraut apples. Whenever they'd make the cabbage, there was a kind of apples that we had there-^then they'd take some of those and put 'em down and as the kraut worked, those apples would take on that taste— kind of^soury, kind of wrinkly and kind of sour- 'course they put the cabbage cores in the barrel, Too, and that was kind of sour. And I can remember in the wintertime some of the neighbors sometimes would come in and roast chestnuts on the hearth by the fireplace, and they eat roast chestnuts (And one neighbor, Ernest Kipps, he'd come in every now and then and he'd eat chestnuts a while and then he'd say, "Well is your kraut apples good? How about 'em?" And, we'd say, "Well, we haven't tried 'em for a while." "Well, let's see about your Kraut apples." And they'd go diggin' down in the barrel and bring out a pan full of those apples from out among the kraut, and set around and eat those kraut apples.

SS: How would they taste? I've never had one.

DG: Well, they-

EG: Just sour, just about the same as sauer kraut.

DG: I could hardly explain it, but they'd have that kind of a acidy taste, kinda like kraut does. And it wasn't every apple that would work, but a certain kind of—

EG: Yeah, we tried to find some that wasn't wormy. pop corn, is that something which they commonly did? Had popcorn?

DG: Well, they raised the popcorn, and then they had that thing. They had this big wire popper.^ And then, another thing that sometimes for entertainment in the wintertime and instead of just settin' a time and havin' a regular party, why, you might find a knock at your door and here'd be four or five neighbors comin' in with a cup of sugar, and they said, "Well, we just decided it was kinda lonesome, we deci ded to get together and come to Baughs for a taffy pull." And maybe one would take the cup of sugar and go down to the next neighbor and they didn't have a lot of telephones, you know, and they'd so, "Well, come on, let's go over to so-and-so's." And the evening, make taffy, and.they would bring their sugar along, you know, and make a big batch of taffy. Pull that. And that's kinda the way they enter tained themselves quite a bit, you know in the wintertime.

SS: This checkers was a big sport, too?

DG: Well,they played checkers; you know, regular checkers. They didn't have Chinese checkers. I don't even remember the dominos, the main thing. They'd have a checkerboard or they'd make the Fox and Goose board, they usually used grains of corn to play that. And there was those two games and then sometimes they'd play ball in the afternoons, on Saturdays or Sundays. And then croquet. Croquet and! checkers was two main things that outside of their little winter parties of just gathering. And we had the Kris Krinkles back there, and of course, we kids were always thrilled to death over the Kris Krinkles.

SS: What's that?

DG: Well, just about Christmastime, before Christmas, there'd be maybe four or five guys would gather up together and they put masks on, kinda sorta like SantOuClaus and pull a long stocking cap on, and some a$ them, maybe, would have a fiddle or a banjo, and they'd come and knock on the door and they'd come in and play a little music, and say, "We're the Kris Krinkles." And they'd generally have a little candy in their pocket and they'd take the candy out and kinda throw it around, and just stay maybe a half an hour or so. And they'd always try to guess who was there— you know, they'd have these masks on. And sometimes you could figure out by their voices who they were and then sometimes you knew. But of course, the kids, the older ones,, the grownup ones would get a kick out of it, too, but we kids, especially thought it was fun when any of the Kris Krinkles showed up.

SS: Can you give me an idea of how much, if any, of the stuff you carried over when you came out to Idaho? we've been back there.

SS: What I mean is; when your family moved out here did they keep doing any of the same things? Those things?

DG: None of that done after I hit Idaho. I was never in on—

EG: They couldn't make the syrup, because there was no trees.

DG: Apple butter or something, but the Kris Krinkles—

EG: We made apple butter and prune butter.

DG: Once in a while we had taffy pulls, alright. We'd get together and among 'em have a taffy pull party, but the Kris Krinkles we never had.

SS: Did you play party games out here?

EG: Yeah.

DG: Afterwe'd have square dances and then have games where you'd go out and look at the stars through a coat sleeve and they'd

DG: I don't know. Now thinking back, I just don't know if any of it— pour water down the coat sleeve, or you'd get into some kind of a game couldn't answer the question right, why, you'd have to give a for feit, and when they redeemed the forfeit^ why, you didn't know what you might have to do; you might have to sing a song or crawl on your hands and knees or kiss all the boys in the house, or something, you know.

SS: Was that something you did in Virginia, too? Or was that ?

DG: No. I can't remember them doing that. I don't remtiftber the kissing games. 'Course, I was only seven years old, you know I'd a been kinda little to remember about the grownups, you know.

EG: Yeah, they had them back there. I remember before we left back there they had, I was just a kid, I was only nine, but then, they had a party at our place and Dave Wilson, that's her stepdad, he was crippled, had a hip dislocated and one leg was shorter than the other, so he come up to his forfeit to redeem it, and they told him to kiss the prettiest girl in the house. So he made a run at my cousin, Mag Groseclose and he was lame he couldn't get around as fast as she, she got through the door and slammed the door, and he was kinda lead ahead on account of that leg and she hit him with th at door here, and he had a considerable knot raised up above his eye where that door hit him when she shoved it shut. But he says, "Ah, Mag, you're not that wild." I remember that well, and then when they^ cornshuckings, the fella that got a red ear of corn got to kiss the prettest girl in the house. Oh, they had a lot of things they thought was fun.

DG: Had their quilting bees. And they'd gather together, you know, finish out a quilt for somebody. And a lot of the younger girls—

EG: Yeah, they'd have a quilting and when they got the quilt done, they'd take it out of the frame and then they'd throw a cat in it, and there's supposed to be young people there, and then they'd all that quilt this way in order to keep the cat in there. And it'd be scared—

DG: They'd get ahold of the quilt and somebody'd just toss the cat over on the quilt, and of course the cat would be trying to get out, and whoever it jumped out over, was supposed to be the first one married. And they was all trying to keep the cat from jumping over them. Aid, oh, I don't know, they did a lot of things that was kinda silly in a way, but—

SS: Quilting parties was that done out here, too, in Idaho?

DG: Yes, some.

SS: But not as much?

DG: Some of the neighborhood down there, they'd get together occasionally and quilt. And theyN helped make the apple butter. And them days, didn't why, they.put it in little jars and things like we do now, their lies and butters, they crocks. And they'd have three gallon or five gallon croc.s, you know, ttat you put your apple butter in and ^ dish it out as you wanted it. And it was made in a big brass kittle vout over the fire, and people would gather and peel apples and cook 'em and take about all day. And when you got through, you'd have eight, ten gallon of apple butter, you know.

EG: You know this first stage here, brings to mind, well, what I didn't think about explaining about that piece of country up in there. Them first fellers come in here and.says they located a place and set out their stakes. Well, it wasn't surveyed. Well that country up there wasn't either, but they had the state land, and then they declared the reservation, and they come and surveyed the reservation first, and surveyed it out in line sections, then they went back and come with a general survey and come up to the reservation. Well, when they come up„to where the reservations lines was, why they was off; this new survey come, and they'd be off about possibly twenty rods. The lines wouldn't gee. Well then when they come up here they would1 be— This reservation, like it started here, you see and they come up here well, here, this strip of land in here is not— you can't make a forty, you can't make a twenty, and one end would be narrower than the other and that was what they called a disputed strip. Now over here on the Genesee, they was eighteen acres over there that was three quarters of a mile long; that was in that disputed strip. A feller name of Davis, feller showed it to him and he took it up and proved up on it. It was good wheat land all but about half an acre.

SS: What happened with the disputed strip? Who owned it?

EG: It was government land. Well, he took that up as a homestead. And then up in there, up in that country there, up at Tekean country there there was one man; well this French Pete, his place was so little he went off and left it. He had an orchard put in there. But I don't know just how long it was. It stayed there a long time, but the next place there there was eighty acres in it and a mile long. It run from one— clear across a section, eighty acres, and then there was another one that joined onto to that that was eighty acres, a mile long. There was two pieces there that long,*narrow strips. The next place then over there he got some of that disputed strip and another piece or so, forty or such a matter onto it. Made them a place. And then a little feller, name of $avis, he got a hundred and five acres of ground. He got some of this disputed strip and a forty on that enough to make him a hundred and five acres in his place. And then there was another one— fella Ludy owned beyond that. He got another piece of that disputed strip. And the lines from this side here— well, you might say your line come here. you come down to this disputed strip, your section line would come in here and over here then when it went from the— over on the reservation it would be over here. They didn't get their lines square when they come with line from the general survey over to— so that's what left that nar row strip in there, because it wouldn't— well, it would have been there anyway if the lines hadda matched. But they didn't. Now this place where Bakers got down here, that's on that disputed strip, it there. So that strip come in from Genesee clear across, I don't know, clear across the country up ptf Tekean.

SS: So anybody could claim it?

EG: No, they had to get a government right to it.

SS: I mean, you could just file on it?

EG: Yeah. Yeah, you could file on it.

SS: Did that make your land run kind of funny? Did you wind up having a narrow strip?

EG: Yeah. That disputed strip that.way would be narrow. And on one side Your section corner would like here, and over here on the reservation side your section corner would be here. And they didn'4- match across that disputed strip.

SS: How wide would it be now? About a hundred and eighty feet?

EG: Well, it run— well this place that Davis got up there at one end of it his place was just fifty feet wide, and the other— I don't— well, three quarters of a mile long and eighteen acres, so you know it was pretty narrow strip of ground through there. But these up here at Tekean, it got wider here so that a mile of it made eighty acres.

SS: You know on£ thing I wanted to ask you was- for your father; do you think that he trusted people that he knew from Virginia, or people from the South more than he did just ordinary people, other people around here? Do you think he trusted them more?

EG: No, I don't think so.

SS: I wondered if he'd have more, maybe have more confidence in the people that he knew from back there.

EG: No, I don't think he did. Oh, they had great old times in them there days. This fella here says that you kept 'em five years, you proved up in five years. Well, you had from five to seven. If you took possession of that place and established a residence on it in six months, and then you could be off a that place— you had to stay ifc it two nights in six months and you had to fence it, and you had to farm it, if_ you could. If you couldn't farm it, of course there was an awful lot of it you couldn't, but you had to try to farm it or then you could change it to a stone and timber claim, if you couldn't farm it at all. But you had to prove up in five years if you— if it kept being on there the alloted time that you were supposed to be within the time, but there was two people in the country that didn't get there as much time as they was supposed to be, so they had^go seven years before they could prove up. They had from five to seven and they got proved up alright but they had to put in two years more time. That was Eli Hickman and Bill Tassle, was them two. But Eli and Bill, they come down into the Catholic Gulch down there and they was a feller come and took up a place down there and he got took out fer being a bootlegger; first settler in the Gulch, he went to the pen for sellin' booze.

DG: I have a picture of your folk's place and I can't find it. This is the Fix Ridge place

EG: Sellin' booze to the Indians, and then Eli and Bill come and took it up.

DG: And this is his family. His father and mother and Levi and Will and Albert.

Which one is him?

This is Levi. Ed?

Which one is Ed?

Got by with it. Bill took up homestead down there where there was a big spring. Oh, it was a dandy big spring. And Eli took his up the canyon, a mile, possibly a mile farther up. But they built a pretty good house on Bill's place and Eli lived there a year or two. And my brother had a place right below it, they never thought about what kind of a deal they was apullin'. But then, finally, they— Bill had forfeited his right that^way, he had to get rid of it, so he got the old man Jamison to take- got his place. What he give him for it I don't know. But anyway, Eli went up to his own place. That's why he'd fooled around there a couple years, why he had to hang onto his seven years. But I think that somebody coulda contested both of 'em and beat 'em if they woulda knowed. But to prove that a man is not there two nights outta six months and so on and so on, it's pretty hard to do. But anyway they got by with it, and they sold— Jamison proved up on the place that Bill had homesteaded. Jamison was Eli's father-in-law. They got that book of old Genesee— it's got quite a thing tellin' about Jamison and Hickman. Eli was up there one timehe always run cattle, and they was a fella bought him some win ter underwear, so Eli seen it, they took it down to the livery barn and showed it, Eli seen it. He said, "That's just what I want." And up to the store he went to get him some underwear. So somebody got— run ahead and Eli went up there to get his new underwear and when he come back down they had to look at Eli's underwear, and they had— the clerk had slipped around and wrapped up some lady's underwear for Eli!! (Laughter) Then he went to show his big, heavy, winter under wear, and he got a lady's underwear, they'd pulled off on him. He had to go back and git his other underwear after that. But th ey had a convention up at Moscow. All the old soldiers went up there from Genesee. And the fellas that rode said they got a bottle back in the back of the bus where all them old soldiers was, and they done the talkin' and he says, "I don't know, I don't see how Lee ever sur rendered thirty thousand soldiers at Appomattox from all the men that had killed, thm old fellows I don't see how there was that many Southerners left.

DG: Now this is the home where they come from.

SS: That's Virginia?

DG: Uh-huh. And this is Ed, settin' right there.

SS: That's quite a picture.

DG: I don't know. You can't tell much more about 'em. His father and mother and some of 'em, that's not so long before they come to Idaho. That's the house in Virginia.

SS: That's quite a picture. I wanted to ask you the way you remember some of these things in Virginia, even though you were so young. Makes me realize that they were really important; important part in life there, and I am wondering— Do you think that your family missed Vir ginia much after they came out here?

DG: Well, I don't know. 'Course in later years, why, there was— my mother had two brothers that came out, and she made one trip back before grand pa passed away to see him when he was sick. She only got to go back once, but she was pretty lonely, you know, comin' out, even if there were a few Virginia families, and she didn't know 'em, you know. And I think that she missed it, you know, pretty much at first. 'Coursa. I especially missed it. It was quite an adjustment for me. But there was one thing, I had asthma awfully bad back there, and winter and summer, it didn't make any difference. Sometimes the doctor was at 0^ house three times a day. After I come to Idaho, I never did have an asthma attack. I've had kinda bad health and a lot of things as the years have gone by, but never asthma. And when we went back on wasn't it? the visit in '53— '53 we went back or '52? '52 we went back—n you went back in '51, and I went in '52. Is that right, Ed?

EG: Huh?

DG: We went to Virginia in '52?

EG: Yeah.

DG: And I was there about six weeks, and there was one time; one day, I don't know whether it was because I was just extra tired or what, that I kinda imagined that it might have bothered me a little bit. But I just don't know.

SS: When you say that you missed Virginia a lot; how come? You were just a kid at the time you came out here.

DG: Well, I think that the impression was and I had so many relatives and so many kids that I played with and everything, and then when I come, it looked to me like the end of the world when we got out here. Because we landed here some time in June, and it was real hot, and the hills were dry, you know, they weren't as green as they are right now, and stepdad just had one large room cabin, you know, on his ranch at that time. He built on more later. But when I come, you know, a strange place and everything was so different. Of course, the country was different. The hills were so big, and as I said, all the stories about the Indians. And while these other Virginians were here, I hadn't really known them and their children, a lot of 'em were smaller than I was, so until I got started to school after we come in the summer, I didn't have much chance- and didn't get acquainted with any one. And, to me, it all seemed pretty terrible. I wouldn't go back to stay, you know, after I was here for a few years, but the first few years- and then, still, as I grow older, I think as you grow older you go livin' in the past, and my childhood in Vir ginia was very important to me and my memories.

EG: I read here where this fella built his house, started to build his house and he was about, oh, quite a little ways off a his place on a neighbors when-tfievgot it surveyed and he had to move it. That made me think of Old Man Kimberling; he was the first settler in the country and he just got in and fenced his place up there and he, oh, he went out twenty, thirty rods, maybe more; just put his fence way out, and when my brother, Albert, homesteaded his place, he went to Kimberling's line and measured a quarter out, you know, and built his house; built his cabin, I think it was about 14x16— no, it wasn't that big— it wasn't more than 14-i 12x14. Not a very big cabin he built, but he got his land surveyed and he was down there twenty rods on the Indian land. So he had to move his house them up to where that big walnut tree is, there. That walnut tree was planted there; a nut was planted there in 1903. And he built his house, well, and he'd built his house, well, the fall- it musta been built there in '01. He was down on the Indian place better'n a year before he got his place surveyed out. And then my other brother, Marion,- Kimberling had his fence way down on government land, and he took up his place and he was gonna investigate it there, and so Kimberling got out there and he moved the fence way back, oh, twenty rods or better, back up the hill, but he left it about two rods below his house. Well, we got the surveyor in there, Old Briggs had surveyed—.had done the original surveying and all, but he surveyed out from my sister's place, and set her line and my brother's were on the same, And they had the compass set on this line and Kimberling come up and looked throughand looked over the compass and.Briggs, "My God, don't survey that land til I get out here, you'll ruin me." So, Briggs had business somewhere else and my brother called him and he come and surveyed that land five or six times. I know one time I went to Arrow in a hack to meet Briggs, he was acomin' to survey that line. When I got dow n there he says, "I'm sorry, but I've got to be somewhere else today, and I can't go." And he never did survey that line til Kimberling sold out and left. And when they got to surveying— got the place surveyed, why, my brother got Kimberling's house, his barn and his spring. He got the whole business. So Kimberling proved up and never did have his house on his claim.

SS: Your brother got the house and everything? What about the guy who bought the place?

EG: Huh?

SS: What about the guy who bought the place? He must have been pretty un happy about that.

EG: Yes he was. They's divorced, and the woman then that— they divided the— Kimberling had bought out Hall and that made him a half a sec tion; so they divided the place and this woman, she took her third of the place down on that side and she remarried. And she married a fel la name of Thompson. My brother met 'em in the road, but her and the little boy covered their faces so Marion didn't see 'em and he didn't know Thompson. So he was going up to my uncle's up the road there a mile or so and when he got back, why, .the family was moved into the old Kimberling house there that Thompson had moved in and took So he had a heck of a time gettin' them out of there. He finally give 'em the house. And they cleared up a place just above the line and moved it up there. Then they tried to steal the spring. The spring was only about that far from the line; just a little bit. So Thompson tried to steal it by diggin' under— diggin' right against the fence and under it. I think he got more water than what my bro ther had, but he didn't bother his spring. There was lots of water there at that place in the hill. He got lots of water but he didn't get the spring.

SS: Well, why did they cover up their faces?

EG: So my brother wouldn't know 'em, you see.

SS: Why didn't he want your brother to know him?

EG: They was acomin' to move in this house that was on his place and he didn't want 'em in there on that.

SS: It's too bad that you couldn't have gotten it surveyed before Kimber ling sold out.

EG: Yeah, but, I don't know— Briggs never said that Kimberling pa^ed his leg, but I think he did. I think Old Kimberling must have slipped a twenty down in his pocket when he told him not to survey that, be cause I don't know why Briggs would be better to Kimberling than he was to my brother, but he never surveyed that line until—

DG: Back to the family just for a second.

SS: Sure.

DG: Now, Ed is the only one left out of all of his family. And I had four uncles; six aunts, and quite a few cousins, you know, right around where we lived there. And I have one aunt left, and no cousins, I think that was there at the time I was. I have some cousins that was born later that live£ around in there, you know.

DG: — to us. And when we think of all of our lives with the aunts and the uncles, and with his family with the sister-in-laws and the brotherin- laws and all, and just down to the two of us now left out of so many memories, you know, that he and I are the last leaves on the tree you might say. Only, I do have one aunt that's living and she's about eighty years old.

SS: I'm surprised that your memories of Virginia are as sharp as they are, because you were only seven when you came out.

DG: Well, I've often wondered just how far back you could remember things, and I know that some of our children don't remember too good even back at four years. And there's things that I do remember, but there's a lot that I don't remember. My mother got awful provoked at me a lot of times when we'd be talking about Virginia and all as I grew up. And she talked to me about her mother, you know, my grandmother, and I'd ask her about her, and I'd look at her picture and she'd say, "You ought to remember her." And I says, "No, I don't know there was ever such a person." And she said, "She was so good to you. And I get so mad at you 'cause you can't remember her, because," she says, "you asked me questions about things that happened while she was still living." She said, "And if you could remember that, you^ould remem ber your grandmother." But, I think that the reason that I probably didn't was because I was around her so much; with her so much; it just wasn't anything special that impressed on my mind, you know. And I I can't yet to this day ever surmise that there was such a person as mamma's mother. But the things that I asked her about when I would be three and four years old, and she said when Grandma was still alive and one of them I can remember just as well, and I think the reason was, I always was impressed by stories and pictures of trains, and always liked the railroad, that's what we're livin' off of today. But, anyway, there was a man name of Mc Nutt, and he had been to our house, not many times, I hadn't seen him many times, but he went some where, and I can't remember just how the accident happened, but he was killed by a train. And, of course, a kid hearing the family dis cuss it and how terrible it was; they picked up parts of the body, part of his body was just made out of cotton, but they did have the head and the arms, and so, of course, kidlike— and the train did this and" that was why- and of course, they took kids to the funeral and we went to his funeral, and I can just about describe about how that guy looked, you know,* because I took a special look at him and I can remember all that, you know. And I think the idea was the train part of it, and I had never seen a train then. Just hearing them talk. And his face was pretty good only it just looked like, you know that it had three or four, maybe just like scratches that they didn't get covered up. I think he had two or three on one side and one kinda down here. Very nice looking man. Dark hair. And another thing that impressed you about funerals those days- I like it much better the way they do now— they bury you in the clothes you're used to wearing, put your glasses on you, and you might have some color casket beside black. But if you were a grownup person, you had a black casket in those days. And the mourners wore the veilA black veil] The men had black hatbands or black armbands. Black. Black. Made an awful impression on me. I said I never wanted to have any black about me. Although my mother was old-time and she'd talk about a black dress, and us kids would tell her, "Don't need to get it, because if we outlive you you'll never have it on." So all of 'em thought they had to have their buryin' clothes. If you were veil young it was white. And everything else was black, black, black/everything,

EG: I remember going with my mother, I was just a little boy, over to visit old neighbor women, you know, and while we was there they'd always bring out their buryin' clothes and show 'em what they had.

DG: They'd always have 'em. My mother always thought she ought to have. And we'd get her a dress, she was always sickly/0and if we'd give her a dress or something, us kids, she'd say, "I'll save that, that's pretty nice, I'd better save that, I can't get around to wear it." And, we'd say, "You put it right on and wear it right here, because it won't be on you." And when she did pass, why, the clothes that she had onshe had some nice st§ckings some of the grandchildren had give her and she had a very beautiful slip that some of the grandchildren had give her, and had saved and those things went on her. But the dress was absolutely new. Kind of a gray. But I got an awful hatred of black. And I just never wanted anything black.

EG: Now telling about the fella killed on the railroad and cut all to pieces. I worked on a railroad and they got to having shows. And the foreman was supposed to read every week something about safety, something to do with safety plans on the railroad. And we went to a show down at Lewiston, had all of us go down there and they had one man^there, he was the most safety minded man that they had in all the railroad, of all the men, he was the most careful man that they had. And they was double tracks and he was astandin' behind the caboose atalkin' to a bunch of men, and they told something funny, and he just whirled around like that and another train passed and they had a closed funeral for him. Tore him all to pieces.

DG: Turned around too close to the tracks.

EG: You know a train has quite a suction to it, and what he laughed about, he whirled around and , shucks, the train just took him over there and then threw him off.

SS: Took him where? How did it kill him?

EG: Sucked him right under the train, you know, and just tore him all to pieces. They had a closed funeral for him. And he was the most safetyminded man that they had. Well that there— it ain't how much you know about protectin' yourself and being safe, it's what you do at a certain second that something dangerous is going to happen. And that's what gets ya!

SS: You said a closed funeral?

EG: Yeah. Closed funeral.

DG: They didn't open the casket.

EG: They didn't open it, he was just tore all to pieces.

DG: They wasn't allowed to open the casket.

SS: Were you there when this happened?

EG: I just seen the picture. I wasn't there. They was ashowin' it, you know, showin' us how to be careful. Be careful what we done. And showed.that m^n— always so particular about what he done, and then at that one particular time he just whirled around and that train caught him.

SS: Did this happen to him in Lewiston, or was it someplace else?

EG: No, it was just a picture that showed it, that it had happened on the line somewhere.

DG: They was showin' it to these guys.

EG: Shown to us to not to get to laughing and fall under a train.

DG: It was shown to them at Lewiston.

SS: 'You were tryin' to say how it was different, most different, your life back there and out here. What do you think would be the main differen ces between there and here?

DG: Well, I don't know.

SS: Was it different? Was it the same? I'm just curious.

DG: Well, I don't know, you know. 'Course, I come out here at seven, and I grew up out here, and after two or three years I began to get adjus ted and everything, but still there's something in me that while I wouldn't want to just go back there to live now, of course, naturally we have the children and grandchildren and everything, you know, and the families have been here and most of 'em, his folks and mine, you know, buried here, and everything, so I wouldn't want to go back and live, still my memories, as I grow older seems like Virginia is home. I don't know why, really how to tell you. And then, when we went back— we went back in '51, and I was seven when I left there, so seven from eleven is four; forty-four years. It had been forty-four years— yeah, forty-five years. And so when one of my aunts built a house on grand pa's place, and part of the old log house— I was born at grandpa's place in the log house, and part of the log house was still standing on this place. And the way that I was used to going in from the lit tle town of Ceres was a different direction than what we came in from Bland and stopped at a cousin's and my aunt and her son came and got us to take us down to her place, and then when we was agoin', I said, "I don't remember going in this way." It was always kinda from the other end, you know. And they were atellin' me who lived here and as we went who lived there, and said, "Now we're not going to say anything, they we're going to see if you recognize when we're coming to the place." So, of course, I was real busy looking and all interested and finally why, down the road you know, and I says, "There it is!" And, I know Aunt Ruth says, "You're right./^Sure do know." 'Course, I hadn't seen it for forty-four years, but there was still enough of it there, you know that little old branch, we called it, kind of a little creek that went down through the place. Used to play by the creek and pick flowers along the edge. I didn't get to go to school but about a month back there because you had to be a certain age at schooltime, and Ma started me, but they kind of kicked, you know, about it because wasn't six when I started. So all my schooling was right down here at Arrow. I just went through the eight grades. I was almost eight years old when I started to school.

SS: Do you remember why they decided to come out when they did? To come out here?

DG: Well, my stepdad he came out here and took up a homestead. And then he had known my mother, you know, been quite interested in her, and so during the years he was out here, why, then when she was free, why he started in writin' you know, just as friends, and they had been. And so, they took up together and decided to get married. And so he came back, you know, to marry her and come West. And so, that's the way we got out here. Because she had known him and his family and all a few years before. AncPso, they came. And I thought that had was pretty rough, too, to get used to a new Dad and a new country. All of them teased me about him, because he was a crippled guy. He wasn't a bad guy, you know, or anything like that, but when he came back, he had a beard. And all of the little friends around that had heard their parents say that .was to be my new Dad and so forth, well, they teased me about him, you know. Well, when he was crippled and had that beard, I didn't believe, you know that he was comin' until he got there and everything. And, of course, he shaved soon after he got there. Trying to be Wild West, I suppose. But anyhow, I thought my mother belonged pretty much to me.(Chuckles) So, I have sympathy for stepchildren, you know, that have stepparents. And a lot of 'em are good and everything, but if you're old enough I think it's better if you get 'em you're just real tiny. It's always kind of hard to. 'Course I just have the halfbrothers and sister. I have one sister, several halfbrothers. And I'm eight years older than this second family. 'Course they don't know the difference, and I really don't realize it, but I was big enough to be an awful lot of help, be cause there is only a year or two years, at the most and a year and a half-between em and there was seven; six boys and a girl.

SS: Did you have a big hand in raising them?

DG: Me, have a big hand? Well, I don't know, I came in a very good babysitter, eing eight years, you know, when they started coming, because I could do a lot of things, you know that could be helpful. And as each one was older, I would stay out of school with my mother. She was sick quite a bit, and I would spend a lot of time out of school, kind of helping at home. And I always wanted to milk cows. I just loved to milk. I never got to milk very much before we c^me to Idaho because Mom'd say, "Oh, well,you'11 kind of spoil the cows." You know, about giving down the milk. So she didn't want me fooling with her cow or anybody else's much. And when I got to wanting to milk out here, why my stepdad let me start. She said, "Well, now, she might cause the cow to. ' ." "Oh, well, if she wants to learn, she has to learn sometime." And I thought it was wonderful, you know. And, oh, I always did like to milk, though. But after I learned to milk, it became my job, bringing in the cows and milking along with my babysittin' and all that.

SS: Some work for a young girl. That's quite a lot of work.

DG: It was a lot of work. We had to carry water sometimes from the river or carry it from the spring, and I've carried water for a mile just to drink because the spring was up in some thornbushes, and in the hot weather, it.would get so it would kinda taste like the leaves or something, you know from the thornbushes. And a mile away they had a dandy well; good, cold water and we'd go late of an evening with my big pail and I'd carry a pail of water and then we'd set that in the cellar, and go in there, you know, for our drinking water. But then the other water, why, for other usage, we carried from the river, or carried from the spring.

SS: Would you do that regularly in the evenings?

DG: Quite regular, you know, during the hot weather. Maybe wouldn't have to go but every other evening, or something like that, you know. Just whenever the water would begin to get low. And there was other neigh bors that went with me sometimes, too. And I started washing baby pants when my first halfbrother was born. I was only eight, I wasn't nine years old, when I started that. I was eight in February and he was born in June. And, my stepdad.he'd kinda cb the washing, but he didn't like to do through the first waters, and so, I wanted an umb rella; 'course they didn't have much money and . afford anything and going to school, most of the kids had an umbrella, if it rained , or even sunny weather, and I thought I was clear out of the picture because I was about the only one that didn't have an umbrella. So I began to beg for an umbrella, and he told me that if I'd wash the pants through the first water, why, he'd get me an umbrella. I often wish I could remember what they looked like. I guess I musta got a lot out because he took it from there, but then he was very willing for me to— but he got my umbrella and I was so proud of it and it lasted for years, and it cost seventy-five cents. And now oh, my goodness, today you think you had to do that and wait, because they couldn't even dig up seventy-five cents. But I'm tellin' you there was just lo*fs of times then that they couldn't dig up seventy-five cents and have any bread on the table.(Chuckles) And so, I've often thought of that and how important— I think it's the things that you get on your mind that really make an impression, now like my remembering something that was unusual that happened, or something that made me real happy or impressed me, because there's lots of things that I don't remember that did happen along with things that I do remember.

SS: So you tend to remember something that's important one way or another?

DG: Something that just really makes an impression on you for some reason. I lived around with my grandparents and all because my mother worked out, And so she worked and paid on the groceries and things and they took care of me a lot while she went out and worked. And that's why I felt pretty possessive of her. I was always happy when she came home and we were always real close. I come pretty much first in her life, too, you know, really. And so I came in pretty handy for the second,

SS: Between you and your mother- did she demand obedience from you a lot? Or was it more of a loving kind of a Was she very strict with you, I guess is what I'm thinking, or was it loving?

DG: Well, no, not— I wouldn't say strict, and yet she made me mind, too. Now like— kids had to mind them days. And didn't seem like it hurt you like it does kids now when they do something they don't want to. But if Mama told me not to do something and I did it, why, she'd spank me. But it was never anything very out of the way. And she'd get pretty aggravated at me if— she didn't always just baby me or humor me either. I know that I had awful thin hair, and a lot of the people said, well, if you'd cut her hair, maybe it'd cause it to be thick. Well, I'd heard people discuss me and my little short pigtails, and how maybe if they'd just cut my hair maybe it'd just thicken up. And I never have had very much hair. So, I decided I guessed I better have my hair cut myself, you know. And Mama says, "I'm not anxious to do it. You'll look pretty funny." Because kids didn't go around with their hair cut, you know, girls them days, they wore the braids. And I begged her to cut it and so finally she did. She set me up on a stool, and she cut my braids off and then she trimmed it; she it fairly short. I thought I was pretty important til I took a look in the glass! (Chuckles)

And when I looked in the looking glass, why, I ran upstairs and crawled in bed and pulled the cover up over my head and it wasn't too awful long til suppertime. And Mom didn't pay any attention to me, and come suppertime she hollered at me to come on to supper and I didn't come to supper. And some of 'em said, better go get her, and Mom said, "I guess if she gets hungry enough she'll get up." And so I always thought so much of one of my uncles, and they sit down to eat supper and supper was over and I was still laying up there with my head covered up, you know, and Mom was gonna let me figure it out on my own, and my uncle come up and pulled the cover back, but I just let my face out, you know, and he says, "Now, listen, you wanted this done." He said, "You must come on down and eat." He said, "Why look at me, I don't have a haircut very often, and even if you grow a beard it takes quite a while." He said, "Can't you realize that you just can't lay here in bed until that hair grows out." He said, "You'll just have to forget about it now, and it'll grow faster, and you just come on and eat." And he explained it all to me, so I got up and went downstairs and forgot about my bobbed hair. But she wasn't too much to pet me that way. But then she told me, she says, "If you ever get into a fight," she didn't want me fighting, she says, "if you ever fight, why," she says, "I'll spank you." Well, I have a cousin that lived there with us and she was a year older than me, but she was a different person. She was quiet and kind and she wouldn't hold up for herself or anything else, and I was just one that wouldn't take only so much til I would look out for me. And so, there was some neighbors lived up on a kind of a little hill from us and there was an apple tree just not far from their yard, but the apple tree belonged to the place that the folks had rented; my people, and there was a few other apple trees on the place, but they were la ter apples, and the people that owned the place had been used to let ting the Kippses have all the apples they wanted from this tree up on the hill, and so did our folks let 'em have apples. But the Kippses, there was two or three Kipps kids, and we all liked apple dumplings. So, one evening the folks told us, Ida and I, "You take your little pails and you go up and you pick up some apples off the ground from under that tree because they are early, and they'll-'be good for dum plings and we'll have apple dumplings."

So we were thrilled at the idea of apple dumplings, took our pails and went flyin' up the hill and picking up apples, well pretty soon these Kipps kids came out, you know, through the fence and over to the tree and they said, "You just better get out of here and leave our apples alone." And, Ida with her kind ways, she said, "Well, the folks sent us after 'em. We're only takin' a few off a the ground. You can still have apples. We're not stealin' your apples." Oh, yes, we was stealing their apples, and they .turn- our pails over and Ida started trying to talk to 'em, and there was kinda of a junk pile not very far away. Had rocks and old shoes and just, you know, where they dumped out their junk, and so when Ida was tryin' to tell 'em, you know, one of 'em pushed a pail over and the other one grabbed up an old shoe and throwed it at Ida. She didn't try to fight back. So, I thought it was about time I got into it, if they was gonna start fightin' you know. And so I told 'em that they wasn't their apples, and that we'd been sent after 'em, and I got to throwing shoes and rocks, too. So, when we got home, Ida was scared, you know and she was tellin' 'em. Oh, Mama had always told me I'd get a lickin' but that didn't matter while I was mad ., I was gonna see that they didn't get the best of her. And when we told the whole story, they said, "The kids just didn't understand, that the apple tree really did belong to the place." Of course, they always let 'em have apples. We was always good neighbors, played together, but these kids— you know how kids are, they decided that we was takin' something that belonged to them. And so, Mama said, "Well, after supper I'll have to give you a spank ing," she said, "because I told you never to fight."

And so she gave me a spanking, and then my uncle that talked me into getting up fix: my hair to grow out, we took her aside and he said, "Well, it's al right for her to mind you, but nevertheless," he said, "she was kinda within her rights, too, and I don't think you should have spanked her, think you shoulda just talked it out." So of course, naturally, I just thought I was pretty important, that I had some sort of ally in the family. But Mama and I were always awful close, and she was very loving with me. And she would as I grew up and began to get older why she give me quite a lot of freedom. She talked to me,. me a lot, too. And my stepdad would get mad if I'd go out with some boy friend and he'd want Mama to just raise the roof. And she said, "I think we'd better go just a little bit easy, and if we just kinda keep out of it, and let her „ I think she, herself, will decide that she wants no more of him." And that's usually the way it worked out. And then she'd tell me, "Now if you go anywhere and going to do any thing," she said, "I want to know." She said, "I don't want to let you go to some neighbor girl's house to spend the night and think you wldfethere and you'd be out somewhere else." And, she said, "As long as you play ball with me, and let me know where you are and what you're doing," she said, "we won't have troubles." And so we had very few. Because I would tell her and if I went somewhere and for some reason we did go some other place for a while with the family from there, I would always tell her about it.

0:00 - Minister frightening away the spirts at the spiritualist meeting; Mox speaking in tongues

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Segment Synopsis: A minister frightened away the spirits at a spiritualist meeting. Mox Mox pronounced on Julia's speaking in tongues.

1:00 - How a guard and an African-American became friends; double standards for whites and African-Americans; relationships between slave holders and their women slaves

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Segment Synopsis: How a guard and a black man became friends. Double sex standards for whites and blacks; slave holders sometimes bred their women slaves. There might not be a hell if it weren't for the white man.

6:00 - Religion in Arrow community; prayer meetings; family worship; no working on Sundays

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Segment Synopsis: Arrow community was Lutheran and Methodist. His conversion experience at a revival at the schoolhouse. It got "warm" at a revival. Prayer meetings. Importance of religion to her as a young person: family worship. Mrs. Groseclose saw no contradiction between saluting the flag and religion. Grandfather's piety. No work on Sunday.

23:00 - Playing games in Virginia; religious training

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Segment Synopsis: Playing hull-gull in Virginia. Importance of religious training. Bible should be taught in school: it has more truth than story of Ulysses. An infidel preacher.

30:00 - Infidels in hell; hiding moonshine and leavening when told on; Jim, a hot-headed moonshiner

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Segment Synopsis: Infidels got a visit from hell. A hidden still. Moonshiners leave when a man squeals on them. The saga of Jim, a hot headed moonshiner.

40:00 - Neighbors helping from miles around; Her fear of Native Americans; sales of produce and less trading; raising hogs in the South

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Segment Synopsis: Debate topics. Neighborliness - neighbors helped from miles around when someone was sick. Corn husking, log-rolling. Importance of attending funerals in the South. Neighborliness branched out over greater distance back there; help was given more without expectation of return. Her early fear of Indians here. More sale of produce and less trading here. Raising hogs on chestnuts, acorns and corn in the South; a lean year.

55:00 - People should plant sugar maples here; starting blackberry growing; growing a variety of produce in the South

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Segment Synopsis: People should plant sugar maples here. Aunt Susan started blackberries in the valley. Berrying in the South. Chestnut trees. Kraut apples, roast chestnuts and visitors.

63:00 - Getting together in Virginia; Christmas traditions; other Southern traditions

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Segment Synopsis: Get togethers at homes in Virginia. Kris Kringle at Christmas. Forfeits - kissing the prettiest girl in the house. Throwing a cat in a new quilt.

71:00 - Disputed strip caused problems; Homestead law requirements; men boasting while drinking

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Segment Synopsis: Disputed strip caused by difference between reservation and state surveys. Disputed strips at Tekean. Homestead law requirements. Bending the rules. A man was slipped ladies' under wear in the store; GAR men from Genesee boasted when drinking.

82:00 - She missed Virginia, though her asthma there was bad. Arrow looked bleak at first.

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Segment Synopsis: She missed Virginia, though her asthma there was bad. Arrow looked bleak at first.

87:00 - First settlers in Arrow located fences wrong throwing off Groseclose homesteads

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Segment Synopsis: Kimberling, the first settler at Arrow, located his fences wrong, throwing off Groseclose homesteads. His house was on Marion's place; he probably bribed the surveyor not to draw the line until he had the chance to sell. Marion let the next owner move the house.

93:00 - Their close family kin have died, (continued).

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Segment Synopsis: Their close family kin have died, (continued).

94:00 - Remembering family; Funeral customs; Preoccupation with buying clothes

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Segment Synopsis: She could never remember her grandmother, which angered her mother. Going to a funeral of a man who'd been killed by a train. Funerals were always done in black. Preoccupation with burying clothes. She doesn't like black. Closed funeral for the most safety-minded man on the railroad.

102:00 - She considers Virginia home; how her family came to Idaho; helped raise step kids; doing chores; becoming independent

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Segment Synopsis: In her memories, Virginia was home. How her family came to Idaho. The adjustment of getting a new stepfather. She helped raise*,, mother's second family. Milking cows. Carrying drinking water a mile. Washing the baby's diapers to get an umbrella as a child. People remember what really made an impression on them. Closeness to her mother. She wasn't babied - an unfortunate haircut, and comfort from her uncle. She defended her rights in a fight, but was punished. Mother gave her independence.


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