How Inez Hall Cato Remembers her Grandmother, Laura Lee Kissinger

“I can remember a little about my Great Grandma. I remember when she died. I remember seeing the casket in the living room. I don’t remember when she came to live with us. It seemed a natural thing for her to live with us. But I wondere now if she was happy living with all the “commotion.”  She was a wonderful woman, never seen her angry or mad. She had a very loveable personality. One thing I’ll say for Daddy (Benjamin Harrison Hall), I never heard him get cross with Grandma. 

“She was a hard worker. Grandma was “kinda” a midwie. She stayed with people when they had their babies. Everyone called her “Aunt Lee.”

In 1921 Grandma came to California on the train to visit her son Arthur Paden, Mom’s half brother. I remember Dad packing her feather bed in a big box. She stayed bout a year. 

Ralph was borned while she was out here. 

Her sister, Aunt Ira stayed with us. 

The only family I remember were Martin Kissing Grandma’s Brother, Walter, Kissinger, Lucy Kissinger (Tadlock), Grandma’s Sister, 

and Ira Soward. 

There was an Uncle Chris, but I don’t remember much about him. 

Grandma was keeping Don and Gloanna when she fell. 

We never knew if she tripped or had a stroke. 

The doctor though she had a stroke. 

She broke her hip. 

She stayed in the hospital until they set the hip. 

We brought her home. 

She took pneumonia. 

She died at home. 

We thought she was old. 

But she wasn’t that old. 75 I think. 

We all loved her so much. 

She was real close to Vena. 

Vena always slept with her. 

We could hear her saying her prayers 

after she went to bed at night. 

That’s about all I know."

Interview with Inez Hall Cato

 

Jack Chap Cato - "Pa"

My mother's father, Pa was awfully good to me. He was only 40 years old when I was born and was my primary caretaker when I was a child. I went everywhere with him. He was a farmer and that old pickup truck of his was our ticket to adventure.

Long before seat belts or child carriers, I rode in a  wooden apple box on the seat next to Pa. When I was able to stand, I'd stand next to him with my arm around his shoulders as we drove that old pick up to work.

I rode on the tractor with him when he was working his fields, and played in the ditches when he was irrigating. He used to tell me to be careful, that the gophers would bite my toes! He was always joking! He called me "Sis" and when I close my eyes and picture his face, I can still hear his voice. "Now Sis, you be careful."

One of the best memories of my childhood was waking up on a chilly morning and running into the kitchen, where Pa would have my clothes warming in the oven and oatmeal on the stove. He'd dress me and give me my oats, then we'd head off to work together, always together. He carried a thermos of coffee with him, and occasionally, he'd give me a drink from it. Sweet, hot coffee.

Pa loved the grandkids when they were babies, but when they got up a ways, tended to ignore them and/or judge them. He always played favorites with the babies. When they grew up a bit, where Ma was non-judgmental and showed unconditional love, Pa sat on his throne and pointed fingers. I wonder if that's why they got together, so she could teach him how to love unconditionally?  He just couldn't do it. By the time he died, Pa had alienated every child and grandchild except me. He accused my mother of stealing his money. He accused everyone. He even was ornery with me at the end, but I refused to leave him. I loved him too deeply and realized a lot of it was age related dementia. At some point, mom had no choice but to put him in a nursing home, because he was "renting" out bedrooms and giving money to meth-heads, who were using his diabetic syringes and who eventually gave him Hepatitis and put him in the hospital.

One bad thing about Pa, he really was racist.  Feeling he was better than non-white races – he’d call them jigaboos, spiks, dagos (even though he was Italian). It could be pretty embarrassing to me.  He didn't even like seeing black folks on tv. He DID like Amos and Andy, and he loved watching westerns, which he called "Shoot-em-ups!"

On the other hand, he’d help people, no matter their race, if they were down and out. I recall when we lived on the big ranch on Wilson Way in Hanford. He raised cotton there and we had quite a number of black folks working and living on the property in little cabins along the roadside coming into the big house. I played with one little girl who was my age, and one time, she fell and hurt herself real bad. Pa carried her into his car and drove her and her mom to the hospital and waited until the doctor could see her, then brought them home. He made sure the mom had enough money for medicine, and he checked on them often.  He really did have a good heart. He would help other people happily if they needed food, or a lift.When he was driving, if he saw someone with a flat tire, he’d stop and help. I remember being with him many times when he stopped to help people. He just never could get past the racism. He was reared in Missouri, and was a result of the times, and his rearing.

Pa wouldn't let my mother date my father because he was Portuguese, although he was fooled for a while by my father's anglo last name, Turner (his father was white.) They had to run off to get married.

Pa would fight at the drop of a hat. He had a temper.  I can just hear him saying, "You stupid GALOOT!"  He was like a banty-rooster and I never saw him come to blows, because usually even big guys would back down.  He'd get right up to them and bump chests and they'd back down. I never saw him fight but I got the impression he could if he wanted to.  He was very argumentative, and if he had an opinion, he didn't care if you liked it or not. 

Pa didn’t agree with all the help Ma gave her grandchildren. He was very frustrated and ashamed with the way his son, Don, treated his children, but if given a choice on who to support between his own children, would choose that son over the girls. That was always a sore point with my mom and Sissy. Don always seemed to get the best of everything.

Pa tended to talk over people and loudly. Once I got him and his two sisters together for an interview and Holy Hell, it was wild! Each one talked louder over the other! I can see it was a family trait!

Pa wouldn’t fly in an airplane, but he did enjoy traveling in his RV or car to Missouri, Arkansas, or just around the Valley. He made many trips back to Arkansas and Missouri to drive family out to California.   He loved to drive and drove truck for a while. He eventually bought an RV. He and Ma would spend winters in Quartzsite in the RV.  In summers, Ma would work up at Sequoia National Park and they'd live out of the RV up there. I guess that's where I got my love of nomad living!

Pa was a dictator in many ways, and often very unreasonable. I remember a fight he and Sissy got into when she was a teen. He slapped her. That was the only time I ever saw him hit anyone. It scared me and I think I spent the next few hours with my pillow over my head in my bedroom.  I remember one Halloween when I had my face all painted up to go trick or treating. He came into the house and made me go wash my face. I was so upset! He didn’t like the lipstick on me. He wouldn’t let me play with boys. I had a best friend across the street named Donny, and Pa would complain about me playing with "that boy." 

I only remember getting a whipping from him once. I was about 4 or 5 years old. My mother had visited us and was flying home to Los Angeles from the Visalia airport. I had been asked if I wanted to go home with her and had said no, so no suitcase was packed. Pa and I drove her to the airport and when she left to get on the plane, I threw a tantrum because I changed my mind, and I wanted to go with her. But it was too late. No ticket. No suitcase.  I cried all the way out to the pickup truck and as we headed back to Hanford, he told me several times to stop - because I wasn't just crying, I was throwing a hissy fit. Finally he stopped the car, got out, got a switch and switched my legs.  My GOD that shocked me!  He had NEVER hit me, NEVER! I stopped my tantrum, that's for sure. And I remembered that switching forever. I think it really did hurt him more than it hurt me, but it did make an impression on me, and I behaved myself from then on when I was with him. 

One of my favorite photos of Pa

And this one, with his impish grin

Ma and Pa's marriage was traditional, where the man wore the pants. . .  most of the time.  What Pa said was law, almost always. I'm chuckling as I write this, because toward the end, I did notice Ma standing up to him more, especially when it was something that was really important to her or when it had to do with her grandchildren. And he would back down. He would back down. "O.k. Ma, we'll do it your way," he'd say.

I don’t remember him being a skirt-chaser but I do remember that Thanksgiving when Ma called him at a bar and asked him if he was coming home or if he wanted her to bring the turkey down to the bar! That was the only time I remember any hint of him going to bars or drinking, and I never ever saw him drink or be drunk.

It’s possible Pa did have a girlfriend. He was awfully handsome. Sissy has said he did. I don't remember noticing anything like that, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. 

Pa sang two songs constantly. He had a wonderful voice.  One song he sang was "Just Walk On By" and the other, my favorite, was "Fräulein" by Hank Locklin.

Far across the blue waters
Lives an old German's daughter
By the banks of the old river Rhine
Where I loved her and left her
But I can't forget her
'Cause I miss my pretty Fräulein

Fräulein, Fräulein
Look up toward the heavens 

Each night when the stars seem to shine.
By the same stars above you
I swear that I love you
You are my pretty Fraulein

When my memories wander
Away over yonder
To the sweetheart that I left behind
In a moment of glory
A face comes before me
The face of my pretty Fräulein.

Fräulein, Fräulein
Walk down by the river
Pretend that your hand's holding mine
By the same stars above you
I swear that I love you

You are my pretty Fräulein.

I think I got my love of change from Pa and Ma. Pa loved change (I've inherited that trait) Because he  farmed other people's land, we moved house often. One of my favorite childhood memories is moving into another old farmhouse and fixing it up. Ma and Sissy and I would wash out all the cupboards and drawers, and put shelf paper into them. We'd scrub until the whole place shined, then we'd paint. I still enjoy cleaning someone else's house or fixing up an old place for myself. 

I guess I did get my temper from Pa, too and have to watch myself. As I grow older, I’m less volatile, but I do talk “with my hands in the air” and often people think I’m angry when I’m simply expressing myself.

Pa was the rock in my life, and I'll never forget how much he loved me, how much confidence he gave me, and how much self-worth he and Ma instilled in me. I honestly believe I survived childhood because they were there. Pa was my Knight in Shining Armor. I loved him more than I can ever express and I miss him and Ma every day. Every day...

Ma and Pa in front of "the old PI"

Alice, Pa, and Fieldon

Ma and Pa

Pa, Ma, Sissy, Buddy, and Mom

Pa and Ma at Sissy's wedding

Pa, Aunt Alice, and Uncle Fieldon

Pa and Ma

Kenneth Neal Sams

My stepfather, Ken Sams, and I had a rough start.
It's a long story, but until I was 16, we fought like cats and dogs.
He did his best to rein me in,
but I was definitely a headstrong and troubled child.
It was a war of wills -
neither of us backing down,
and my poor mother in the middle.

Dad was a policeman, like his father before him.
He was tough as nails - or tried to be.
His tough exterior hid a very soft heart
and I soon learned the gruffness was a protection.

He was greatly loved by old neighbor ladies,
who would call when they heard a bump in the night.
He'd get dressed and go over with his flashlight,
rooting out the raccoon, making sure the windows and doors
were secured,
earning hugs and respect.
As a result, there was an unending supply
of cookies, bread pudding and pies at our house,
brought over by grateful widows.

Heck, one mean old lady wouldn't allow anyone
into her yard to retrieve a misguided softball -
except me - I could go
because I was Sergeant Sams' daughter!

Police work is stressful,
and many policemen end up with stress-related illnesses.
For Dad, it was a heart attack
that stopped him in his tracks.

After consultation, he agreed to experimental open heart surgery.
The surgery in the 1980's was not what it is now.
It took weeks and weeks to recover -
that was back in the days when you still had to stay in an oxygen tent -
and it was horribly painful for my dad.
He felt like he was smothering.
It terrified him.

The doctor gave him 1 to 5 years to live.

Ten years later, when he again began having problems,
the surgery had been exceptionally advanced.
But dad remembered his long painful recovery and just said,
"I can't go through that again."

He spent his remaining days on the beaches of Cayucos, California,
carving wood ducklings and miniature boots for children on the beach.

The day before he died,
we spent the afternoon reminiscing and laughing,
and crying,
about the years we had wasted.
He told me all about the history of Scotland,
and his family's history.

I had three children to support by that time
and couldn't get another day off work without losing my job.
We were told he was stable.

And so,
I returned to Bakersfield,
only to have my grandfather call the same night
and tell me
I better get back to the hospital - 3 hours away.
By the time I drove back,
he was gone.

I wrote this poem and put it in his casket.
I ran across it today while doing genealogy and wanted to share it with my aunt and cousins.

So please pardon me while I post something personal for my family and for my Dad's birthday, which is coming up in August.

Dad Ken

I close my eyes, remembering

the special hours we shared;

The long, long talks about our lives

while Dad sat in his chair.

Sometimes it made us sad to think

about the wasted years

When, both headstrong, we'd lock our horns

inviting needless tears.

But then, he'd start to chuckle

at our strong and stubborn ways,

and laugh at how we made it through 

some of the rougher days.

And as we'd talk, he'd sit and carve, 

this once-mountain-of-a-man,

each feather to perfection

with tired and gentle hands.

He's left us for a while but

we'll talk again some day

when I have gone to join him

in his new home far away.

But Dad's not idly waiting

as a heavenly chorus sings.

God's given him a special job…

He's carving angel's wings.

Sheridan Massey - Arkansas to Oregon

Transcription of article: History of Salem by Vester Williams, Chapter XXIV, Wagon Train

Back in the late 1870’s the wanderlust hit the vicinity of Agnos and surrounding country and a group of families loaded into wagons and started for Oregon and Idaho.  The group was large enough to need approximately 30 wagons.  There is some disagreement among the descendants of the different families that made the trip as to the exact year in which the train left Arkansas. Some think it was in 1876; others think it was in 1878. But all agree on what families were in the group. They left Arkansas about May 1, and landed in northeastern Oregon and northwestern Idaho about October 1.

The families form Agnos and vicinity making the trip were:  Joe Tucker, Jim Tucker and Guard Tucker, all brothers, Joe Cummings and Bill Busby, brothers-in-law of the Tucker brothers, Matt Nickles and Monroe Nickles, sons-in-law of Joe Tucker. Also Kinchen Tucker, a nephew of the Tucker brothers, Tom and Dave Estes, Dan Moore, Sheridan Massey and John Phillips. John Phillips and Kinchen Tucker were sons-in-law of Sheridan Massey.  There were one or two hired men whose name we do not have.   There were other wagons that joined the train as they traveled westward. 

The train traveled slowly. Fifteen miles a day was a good average for the entire trip. It took about a week to reach Springfield, Mo.  At Springfield, the train stopped to buy tents and other necessary supplies that would be needed for the long trip to the Far West.

While the men were in town buying supplies, the women did the family washing, and the animals took their rest.  The train always stopped one day a week to let the women do the washing and to let the animals rest.

Everything went well with the pilgrims until they were in Colorado. Here the train was delayed for several days on account of sickness in the Dan Moore family.  It was thought best for the group to divide, because the delay was going to cause the original train to be winter getting to its destination. The Dave Estes family remained with the Moore family until the Moores were able to travel again, and the balance of the group went on.  After a few days the Moore family was able to travel again and the Estes’ and the Moores joined another train and proceeded on their journey to Idaho.  But the families were delayed again at Green River, Wyoming when Dan Moore’s twelve year old son developed Mountain Fever (tick fever) and died.  The grief-stricken travelers buried their dead and went on their way.  But they did not travel long until death delayed them again.  Dan Moore’s wife came down with a severe illness and died somewhere along the Snake River in Idaho.  Mrs. Dave Estes was the only woman within seventy-five miles. There were two men that kept a barn at a stage stop.  They were the only men within miles of there except the men with the travelers.  The stage hands found some planks and nailed together a box for a coffin. Mrs. Estes and her husband dressed and put the corpse into the box and the men buried her near the place where she died. 

 The Moores and Estes family reached Moscow, Idaho October 2, 1878, after nearly six months of hard and grevious travel. They remained I nthe country for several years and then returned to their old home in Arkansas.

The Tuckers, Masseys and others reached Eastern Oregon a few weeks before the Moore and Dave Estes families did.  The Tuckers settled around Elgin, Oregon, which is not far from Walla Walla, Washington.

The entire group prospered financially while they were in the West but there was something lacking.  They longed for the scenes and friends of their old home, and nothing would satisfy like being back home again. So it was – Arkansas here we come.

This writer has listened to about four members tell of their experiences on the long grip – namely Sam Massey, Mrs. Dave Estes, Mrs. Vira Massey Coggings and Mrs. Jeffie Tucker Weaver. I will pass along some of the stories and experiences they related to me.

 They all said that it was the saddest scene they ever witnessed in their lives when the wagons began to move that spring morning leaving relatives and friends.  Neither group, the travelers nor the relatives and friends, who had come to see them off expected to ever see each other again.

 Some of the women said hat the most obnoxious thing that they had to contend with was the cooking with buffalo chips for fuel while traveling over the high plains. It seemed to them that the smoke and flame from the fuel left a scent in the cooked food that did not add to its appetizing qualities.  Sam Massey said that his job was to look out for places where herds of buffalo had slept a week or so earlier and gather up the chips and bring them to the supply wagon so there would be fuel when needed.

 One of the most disagreeable things that happened on the long journey was crossing a strip of country about sixty miles wide that had no water.  Water had to be hauled for both man and animals across this waterless region.  Water had to be rationed for both man and beast.  It is needless to say that there was not suffering for water in the more than three day drive through this region.

Another amusing experience related was guarding the train while traveling through the dangerous Indian country.  One night the guard was out near a river some two hundred yards from the camp when he heard a noise that sounded for the world like hundreds of horses’ feet running.  The sound seemed to be a mile or so away.  The guard awakened the sleepers in the camp.  The wagons were placed in a compact circle and the women and children were all placed in the circle of wagons.  The men grabbed guns and some of them remained near the wagons, but the others went out towards where the noise was coming from.  For a while, nothing was heard, but at last it was heard again.  Joe Tucker, who had been a First Lieutenant in the Confederate Army, selected two men to go with him.  They crawled upon the bank of the river. Nothing was heard for a time, but before too long, a light wind blew and balls that grew on the trees that lined the river bank began to fall into the water.  There was the noise.  It was the balls falling from the trees into the water. Everyone was much relieved when it was learned that no danger existed.

Laura Lee Kissinger, my Great-Great-Grandmother

Back Row Left to Right: Benjamin Harrison Hall holding Vena Hall, Ada Myrtle Kissinger Hall, Laura Lee Kissinger.
Front Row:  The second child is Mildred Inez Hall Cato. 

This is a letter from my grandmother, Inez Hall Cato.

In it, she talks about HER grandmother, Laura Lee Kissinger.

Here is a bit more information on Laura Lee Kissinger:

Source of Information:  Ada Kissinger Hall (daughter) and Inez Hall Cato (granddaughter) in an interview done by Deborah Carvalho.

Orlando Paden was Lee's first husband. They had two boys, Luther and Arthur. Orlando took the boys to California and left Lee behind. 

Lee began seeing a man named Sowards. They planned to marry but before they could, he died of typhoid fever. He was much younger than Lee. Lee was pregnant with Ada.

Just before Ralph was born, Arthur Paden contacted Ada and mailed her a train ticket so she could visit him. They became very close.

After Ada was born, she and Lee lived with Lee's mother in the woods in a cabin. The old woman died. Inez Cato, my grandmother remembers the old woman's wake. She said, "They had her in a coffin up on two chairs in the living room. There were candles lit and the place was dark otherwise. It was really scary for me. We had to kiss her goodbye and that scared me because she was cold."

That is funny to me, because Ma Cato (Inez) used to attend every funeral in town and she often told me to kiss people goodbye.

When Ada married Benjamin Harrison Hall in 1910, Lee moved around and lived with different friends and relatives.

She was a very hard worker and everyone loved her. She died in Armona, California at an age we would consider young today.  But Inez said, "She seemed like an old woman to me back then."  She was around 75 years old.

And here is a bit more:

Years ago, when I interviewed Ada Hall, she told me that she was illegitimate. This was a shock to her family because in those days, things like this were not discussed.

She said her mother, Laura Lee Kissinger, had been in love with a boy down the road, Thomas Soward. They planned on getting married, but before they could, he died of typhoid fever.

She discovered she was pregnant with my grandmother Ada.

Laura Lee lived with her parents and so when the child was born, and the census taker came around, the grandparents reported Ada as their own child. This is why the census records say she is Laura Lee's sister in some documents.

Anyway, years later, Laura Lee died and her daughters each took some of her belongings.

She was a beloved lady, kind and generous and sweet according to all I've interviewed.

My Aunt Vena kept Laura Lee's black purse.

Forward another many years and Aunt Vena is in her 90's.

She decided to clean out some things and was making a big pile of clothing and items to donate to charity.

She tossed the old black purse on the pile and as it landed she saw a flash of white.

Thinking it had been empty, she picked it up and looked inside.

It was empty, for sure, but she had seen a white flash.

What was it?

She turned it over and put her hands inside each compartment.

She fiddled with it long enough that eventually she saw that the lining had been split and resewn.

She took a seam ripper and opened the lining and there inside was this photo of Thomas Soward, the love of Laura Lee Kissinger's life and mother of Ada.

I love this story.

I love the idea that she carried him with her all those years.

This is a true story.

And now you know.

Here is that photo:

Interview with Vena Hall Hobbs (About 2012)

Troy and Vena

Interview with Vena Hall Hobbs about 2012

Vena:  I was 10 in 1926.  I know everybody lost everything they had. My dad did too. We lived in town in Ash Flat. He’d been working the cotton gin, I think. We just sold out and us and two more couples, they came with us to California in a Model T Ford.  We sold all our furniture.

We knew some people out here, quite a few people. That was our first trip to California. Then we went back and stayed while dad farmed in Missouri 3 years. Then we came back in ’35. Troy and I got married back there and we came back here to California.

Inez met Chap there.

Grandpa worked on a ranch out on 12^th and Grangeville owned by a John Hall.  Not related.  Daddy worked on the ranch and he had a house for us.  We lived there in the house. We moved into it. Dad could get a job anywhere. He was a farmer then.

We had it pretty good. We walked to school. We didn’t grow our own food, we bought it.  The man had dried fruit and stuff like that we ate. We lived there maybe a year.

We had electricity, sure!  In Arkansas we didn’t have electricity. We had kerosene lamps. We heated and cooked with wood. We heated our irons on the stove. We had to buy the kerosene.  We washed on a washboard in a tub. We lived on a farm in Missouri. That’s where dad got to drinking so bad.

We had a big ole washtub, we heated the water on the stove for a bath.  We made it through ok.

We had a basketball. We played keep-away and stuff like that. You know what else we did? We had silver dollars. We’d make a hole and see who could pitch a dollar.

Oh, I remember Grandma Kissinger. I slept with her from the time I was 2 years old until I got married. She was so good! I was her girl!  And Ralph was ornery and Inez was too big, so I got to sleep with her. Grandma would go stay with people when they was sick.

Grandma was a practical nurse. She’d go stay with people when they had babies and I’d go with her everywhere. She delivered babies a lot of times. I’d always go alone and stay with her. I stayed with her more than I did mama. I remember one time kids at school had bugs on their heads. I come home.  She’d get me down and part my hair! I never got em!

Grandma Kissinger was medium sized, not as tall as you (I’m 5’3). She had long auburn hair, the prettiest hair, and she done it up on top of her head. Gloanna remembers her when they lived in the old hotel.  I remember mom took me up to see her when she died. She was one of the loveliest people I ever knew.  She was only 60 when she died. She had just started Social Security. She had got one or two checks when she died. She died of pneumonia. She fell and broke her hip and got pneumonia.

We stayed with friends in Arkansas lived next door to us. When Sophie and WL come out, Grandma came with us.

When we first came out, there was me and Troy, Chap and Inez, Gloanna, Ralph and Helen, Mom and Dad all in one Model T!  Ralph rode on the lard can sitting between the seats.  Grandma stayed there. We couldn’t bring her. We didn’t have room. Jim and Pearl, she stayed with them.

Troy and I got married. Mom and Dad, Chap and Inez come with us. Then Sophie and WL came. Then her mom and dad came, Woodrow and Patrice, Adam and Loretta. They all just started coming out. All of your dad’s people (she meant Pa Cato). I told Troy, “Boy when we got married and come out we started something!”  Then Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Ory.

It took us 6 days to drive out. Started the 6^th, got here the 12^th. Chap and Troy went to work picking fruit for 25 cents an hour. Got here one morning and they started work at noon.

Dad didn’t have a job the first time we came. My dad would work! He’d find a job. We hadn’t been here a day or two til he got work. We lived in the old hotel when we came out the 2d time. It’s not there anymore. They had rooms to rent.

We stopped beside the road, put our beds out and slept under the stars. We had quilts and blanets on the ground.  We gave a ride to this old guy. They car had fumes coming up through.   Everything we’d stop the car, I’d faint. We got to this side of Phoenix and they decided they’d better stop and took me to the doctor.  Got a cabin at the motel and stayed there for 2 weeks.  Mom, Dad, and Inez picked cotton. Got acquainted with Les Brown, a black guy who lived near us. He wanted to go back. Dad said, “Well, if you’ll help me drive, I’ll take you back.” 

Well, he did. When we got there, Dad said, “Now don’t you go back there and tell them we brought this (black guy) with us!”  My dad wasn’t against blacks, but a lot of  Southerners didn’t like that. So we’s afraid to say anything. We liked him real well though.  He was a nice kid.  I’m glad times have changed.

The first time we come out, two couples came with us. We put up a tent. We had the tent up and Dad slept at the end where the flap was.  Put his overalls under his head. That night somebody got his pants.  Next morning, his pants was on the back of the truck and all his money was gone.  Dad called mama’s brother, Uncle Arthur, and he sent us money to the next town and he sent money to come on.

They was standoffish until mama was a widow. After dad died, they come to get her to eat.  That’s his tool chest in there in Danny’s room.  When Uncle Arthur died, they gave it to me.  I took all the paint off and put new paint on and changed the hinges.  When Raymond come to see us, he said, “I want that!”  I said, “You can’t have it!”

(I wonder what become of it when Vena went into the nursing home)

We ate pork and beans, and bologna.  Bought it along the way.  When Ma and Pa traveled, we slept on the ground. She took along her big iron skillet. We would build a fire and cook gravy. We’d put it over bread and eat it. My mother (Gloanna) remembers that. No hotels back then.

One time when we come out with Chap and Inez, we got a cabin that night and stayed in it.  Cap and Troy went to the store to get some freuit and some guy propositioned them. They was scared to death. They was so scared! :::laughing:::

Inez met Chap at Kennet. We landed there. Us and Finleys. Their dad had a school bus and Carl drove it down there. He was my boyfriend then.  Inez went with Cap and I went with Bill Fry. We’d all just go together that way.  Couple of boys, Slim and Jim.  We’d go places in the truck. Had a lot of fun. Run around together. Mom and Dad didn’t want Inez to marry Chap.

He was big feeling. He had 2 acres of cotton down there. And instead of him helping picking, he’d sit up on top of the trailer, and they took a dislike to him.  To keep her from marrying him, they gave her money to go to Uncle Walker’s and instead, she went to Hardy and got Chap word. Then they got married.

He followed her to Arkansas, Hardy. They met in the cotton field, but he didn’t pick no cotton!

Troy and Woodrow. We lived at Hardy. They come up there and a girl I run around with, Patrice, knew Woodrow, and then I met Troy.  Three month, then we got married. I asked him one day, “How come you never tried to get smart with me?”  He said, “I knew better!”

The photo I found was Grandma’s dad. He took typhoid and died before they could get married. Chris Sowards (I have a different name but I’ll look into this name)  She had a little purse that was hers. I got to lookin’ at it and it was way down in the bottom under the lining. I got it out and looked at it and knew the minute I looked at it who it was. She’d carried it all these long years.  Amie Soward lived up on Walnut Street. We knew something because they never talked about it. Inez and me one day went to ask Amie. We walked up there and told her we wanted to know the history. It was Amie’s dad’s brother.

(Every time I found Ada listed in the census she was listed as her mother’s SISTER – probably to protect her.)

Grandma and Grandpa Hall got married on horseback.

Before Grandpa, Grandma was going to get married but he was killed in the war. She went with Earl Finley’s dad for a long time. He had a moving picture out there. He came and put up a camp and showed movies. Mama said that used to be her boyfriend.

Inez went with Euell, Eldon, and the other one too. I went with Pal Finley. Mom went with the old man.  :::she’s laughing:::  I guess we liked them Finleys.

Mama and me had hard times in Hardy.  We took in washing and cleaned.  They was separated then.   When Troy and me got ready to come there, he was ready to come with us. But he got to drinking when he was in Missouri.

(I changed the subject)

When you butcher a hog, you’d wait til first freezing weather, then butcher them.  Hog-killin weather. They’d smoke what we couldn’t eat.  We’d eat the ribs, liver. The hams and side meat bacon and shoulders would get smoked.  They had smokers and hung it in the smokehouse. That cured it. It wouldn’t spoil.  They’d rub salt on it first. Dad used to butcher hogs. Had big cauldrons to put them in. (I have one – Annie’s note) Mostly the men smoked it and hung it.

By that time, they had lockers and mama and daddy put theirs in the food lockers down here in Armona.  Mr. Moore.

We’d can everything. We’d have potatoes – just pull them out of the ground. Kept them in the cool places. Cellars kept them cool. No refrigerators.

Gloann remembers on Walnut Street in Armona. Everybody kept their ice-boxes in the living room. They’d deliver big blocks of ice. Never had one of those until we come out here. I remember our first one.

I remember our first television in the 50’s. Oh, the boys saw Gene Autry and the Cowboys! Danny’s see him fighting and just draw back his fist!

[Mom (Gloanna) was in high school and she said this boy had a tv and the kids would all go there to see it.]

Second Interview

This Second interview was when Vena was in the nursing home soon before she passed away, I’m asking her about her Grandma Mary Jane Massey:

Vena:  Uncle Sam Massey was grandmother’s brother. He had family, of course, they was our cousins.  They all visited back and forth.

Massey. Uncle Sam. Sam Massey.

They lived beween Ash Flat and Hardy. Evening Shade, that’s where they lived.

Uncle Sam and Aunt Lucy.

I think her name was Lucy. We had another Aunt Lucy too. Aunt Lucy Tadlock.  A lot of people named Lucy then ::chuckling::

Not many left. They’s Floyd. He lives up there by Salem. And I don’t know any more.

My grandmother was a Massey

Sam, Uncle Sam Massey.

Yeah. Her other brother’s name was . . .

I don’t know.

Sam was her brother. Uncle Sam Massey.

Annie:  Did he have any kids?

Vena:  Yeah, he had Floyd was his boy’s name. Floyd Massey.  He had kids then.

Annie:  Do you know if Mary Jane Massey was Indian?

Vena:  I don’t know. I think she was part Indian. Yeah, she was. She was part Indian. I remember her sittin on the porch, rockin and rockin, all day long. That was the Indian in her.  ::laughing::

Annie:  Did you like her?

Vena:  Oh, I loved her! She was sweet.

Annie: What do you remember about her?

Vena:  Well I remember one time, she, we had to go down a ways, there was a spring down there where we got water. And she went down to get water and the wolves got after her.  She tore her clothes off and threw a piece at a time down. They’d stop and tear it up and that’d give her time to run a little farther and she was completely naked when she got to the houseThe men comed in and they got after em. They killed part of em. They was bad.

Annie: The wolves were bad?

Vena:  Yeah, you know they’d thinned em out pretty good. They wasn’t a many of them left around there. They was afraid of people any more so they didn’t bother us much. We could hear them at night. Oh, they’d sound so awful. But we always managed everybody’d get indoors at night and we had the doors fastened inside so nobody could open it up from the outside so we’d just, everybody’d managed to get in at dark. We’s sure glad for that.

Annie: Did you ever know of anybody to get killed by a wolf?

Vena:  Oh yeah, lot of people did.  In the earlier days. They were mean.

Annie: Do you remember your grandpa?

Vena:  My Grandpa Hall?

Huh-uh. No. He was gone when I got here.

(My mother is talking in the background asking if he was the one in the prison camp. No, that was Pa Cato’s grandfather.)

We always was at grandmother’s house. Every time we all wanted to eat, they made some big tables, put it outside, and everybody’d take food and we’d all go there and eat all the time.

Annie: Oh yeah? What would you eat?

Vena:  Oh, everything good.  Yeah.  People’d bring it from all over and come and eat with us.   We had, they called em cork plates. They’s paper plates.

Annie: Do you remember going camping’?

Vena:  Oh yeah!

Annie: Did you go camping a lot?

Vena:  No, not a lot, but we went once or twice a year.

Annie: Do you remember anything about Millie’s grandparents, Luke Hall? Did you know Luke Hall, your Uncle Luke?

Vena:  No, I didn’t know em. I’ve heard of him and folks knew him, you know.

Annie: But Mildred was your cousin, right?

Vena:  Yeah. My dad and Uncle Luke were brothers. And Uncle Luke was Mildred’s dad.

Annie: Did you ever do anything with Mildred?

Vena:  Oh, we stayed all night with her and she stayed with us.  Yeah, we was close.

Gloanna:  Vene, was Ray Millie’s brother?  The one who started the hospital there and the one who was a doctor?

Vena:  Yeah. That was Mildred’s brother. He was a doctor.

Annie: You have some good memories!

Vena:  Oh, I have a lot of good memories. We had a good childhood.

Everybody loved everybody. You never heard of people fightin’ or anything like that.

Gloannea: Those were fun times, huh?

Vena:  Yeah. You know we was workin there on the farm where we was stayin. We was tying grapevines.  They pruned em then we’d have to wrap em and tie em.  So we was there. That morning I said, “ I had a bad dream last night that Uncle Sam Massey had died.”  Mama had a letter mail that day, Uncle Sam had died. I dreamed it just as plain. It’s funny how you do things that way.

Annie? Have you done any other things like that?  Any other dreams like that?

Vena:  No, I don’t remember any more.

Annie: Just that one. Isn’t that something. How did he died? Just an old man?

Vena:  I don’t know. I think he had pneumonia.  A lot of people did then. They’d take a cold, then they’d take pneumonia.

Then they didn’t have medicine like they do now.

Annie: Did you know any of your other Uncles in the Hall family?

Did you know any of your dad’s brothers?

Tell me some stories about them. Who were they?

Vena:  There was five of them.  Well Uncle Henry was the oldest.  Uncle Dolphus. Uncle Luke. Annnnnnnnnnd Uncle Mac.

Annie: Who was your favorite one?

Vena:  Oh, I don’t know.  Uncle Henry was always teasin us. He’d light a match and put it in his mouth. Then he’d put his tongue out and it was still lit.  ::laughing::

Annie: He could eat fire, huh?

Vena:   Yeah ::laughing::Oh. He had a mustache.

Gloanna:  Wonder he didn’t catch it on fire!

Vena:   Aunt Maggie was his wife’s name. Indian Maggie. Arkie was their daughter.

Arkadelphia.

Annie: Arkadelphia! Where’d they get that name?

Vena:   I don’t know. And ________, and Faye, and Edgar. Faye was married to Edgar. And I don’t know I guess all of em.

Annie: Did you guys get together when you were kids? With all those uncles and aunts?

Vena:   Oh yeah. We’s always together. I drove the old car. I got to where I could drive it. I’d drive it up to Grandmother’s house.Aunt Minnie. I’d drive the car. It was an old touring car.   Yeah.  One day Inez cranked it and it was in gear. She didn’t know it. It started up and run over her. Cut both of her knees real bad. She was crippled up for a long time.  They had a place way out in the country.  Arkie had em bring her. She stayed in there with her for a few weeks. They’s so good to her.

Annie: Do you want to sit up a little bit? Are you comfortable?

Vena:   I’m comfortable.

Annie: Did you have a refrigerator when you were a girl?

Vena:   No, we had an icebox.

We’d freeze ice and put it in there.

Annie: Where’d you get the ice.

Vena:   We’d freeze it at night and we’d put it in the icebox in the daytime then.

Annie: You mean you’d freeze water when it got cold at night?

Vena:   Yeah, put it in the icebox in the daytime then.

Gloanna: Did they put it in something to freeze? Or was there a pond?What did you freeze it in?

Vena:   Pans.  We’d put it in the top of the icebox then. It’d keep our milk and everything cold.

Annie: Did you buy your milk or get it from a cow?

Vena:   We bought it.  In cartons.

Annie: Did you ever have a cow?

Vena:   Yeah, we did.

Most of the time we had a cow. We’d put the milk, we’d strain it through clth and put it in jars, gallon jars, then close the lid down tight on it. It keeps several days like that. When it soured, we’d churn it then and make butter.

Annie: Oh, you’d churn it and make butter?

Vena:   Uh huh. 

Annie: Did you ever make cheese?

Vena:   No, we made cottage cheese but never made cheese.

Annie: When the milk went sour what would you do with it? Throw it away?

Vena:   No, mama made biscuits and we’d use it to cook with.

Put soda in it to keep it from being sour.

Arm and Hammer Soda.

Annie: That’d keep your milk from going sour?  I didn’t know that.

At this point she tells us a bad memory we won’t repeat here.

Then she talks about Uncle Mac and Aunt Minnie.

Vena:   They had two daughters, Wanda Jean and Veneta. And a boy named Austin. He was crippled, he had rickets and he died. We were all sitting around his bed when he died.  I’ll never forget, Veneta said when he died, she said, “ He’s a little angel now!”

Yeah, goodness we had a lot of memories.  We all wound up at Grandmother’s house all the time.  My mom and dad would take food. Mama would make potato salad and things and we’d take em so Aunt Minny wouldn’t have to cook.

Gloanna:  You told me how grandpa would buy candy for his mother and she wouldn’t share it with you kids.

Vena:   Oh yeah. She’d eat it right in front of us. Dad always took grandmother candy. :::laughing::    Grandmother was an old stinker!

Annie:  Is that Mary Jane Massey?

Vena:   Yeah, Mary Jane.

Gloanna:  She scared you guys too, didn’t she? Wasn’t she the one who scared you?

Vena:   Yeah, she’d take a pillow case and pad the corners and make ears. She’d cut out eyes and nose and mouth and put it on a broom, and get out and stick it up in the window.  Us kids knew what it was but we’s scared every time. ::laughing:: We’d run and scream and cry.

Everyone’s laughing:::

Annie:  At Christmas time did you get a big Christmas tree?

Vena:   No, finally we’d put a little one up but we never put a big one up until after I was grown and had my own home and I’d get a Christmas tree and decorated it.

Annie: You guys didn’t do it when you were kids? When you were a little girl grandma and grandpa didn’t have a Christmas tree?

Vena:   We did after a while. I can remember the first time we got one. Went down on the hillside and cut down a pine tree.

After this Aunt Vena started getting tired. We teased her about wanting to marry Dr. Dean. Then we gave her lots of hugs and said our goodbyes.

I sure do miss Aunt Vena.

She was a kick in the pants and made me laugh all the time.

What wonderful memories I have of her!

She always reminded me how she saved my life one Thanksgiving.

But that is another story!

 

Front Row:  Annie, Aunt Vena, Gloanna
Back Row: Christie, Janie, Richard, Aunt Jean