We had our first RCA Victrola phonograph there and I loved to wind it and listen to the music come out of the horn. It came with the house and when we moved away I was very upset to lose the music.
The farm had an old giant of a cottonwood tree in the front yard and we loved to climb in it. We have several photos that were taken of us and relatives under it.
L-R: Aunt Olive, brother Don, Grandmother, me, sister Alice, mother, with brother Allan above.
It also had a hand-dug well that was dry and we got to throw rocks into to fill it as Dad figured one of us kids would fall down it. We thought that was such a great treat to be able to fill it with rocks when in reality, Dad was using cheap labor.
My most vivid memory of the farm was when my uncle was visiting and let us all ride on the running boards of his pickup. The farm had a quarter mile long single lane path for a driveway to it and this lane was an L shape as it made a turn around a neighbor’s property. One day as we were riding the running boards, I thought the uncle was stopping when he was only slowing to make the turn in the lane. I jumped off and he nearly ran over me. That ended the game, my dad nearly shot his brother-in-law over it. As you can see, I didn’t relate well to automobiles.
That is me in the middle, my sister on the right. Unknown little girl. This is the spanish style house on Mingus Ave, Cottonwood AZ
Dad was unable to buy that farm and so the owners sold it and we had to move again. For the next year we lived in a Spanish style house with the old steel frame casement windows. In the course of our rowdy play, more than one of us drew blood by encountering the sharp edges of those windows. The year was 1949 and our next door neighbor had a boy Bobby my age, 5, and we managed to find something to do every day. One of our activities I’ve always been ashamed of was throwing rocks through the windows of a neighborhood church. It’s amazing what two five-year-olds can dream up.
My brothers found a friend across the street that they spent a lot of time with also. The end result of this scenario is that the older boys toyed with the younger ones. Hard to believe, right. One day the big boys were playing in the garage of the neighbor and we little tykes wandered in and wanted to join them. They were playing with toy cars on the work bench and Allan said sure, there is a car up on top of the rafter that you can use, just climb up and get it. Being an adoring little brother, I trusted him, climbed up on the work bench and reached over the rafter and got stung by a wasp. That brought a lot of laughter from them but I wasn’t too happy. I decided I didn’t want to play cars after all.
Another time the older boys were catching and riding the wild burros that wandered through town. They were actually tame but belonged to no one and anybody could ride them if you caught them. Except me. I finally talked Allan and Don into letting me take a turn and so Don helped me up on its back while Allan put some pebbles in a coffee can. As soon as I was ready for an easy ride, Allan shook that can and the burro lit out, throwing me to the ground. I still see those little hoofs flying over my head, and I’ve never tried riding a burro since.
That is me, (guess which) but a few years after my traumatic ride.
Another fun game was to put the littlest kid (me) inside a cardboard box and throw rocks at it. It quit being fun when I caught one in the eye. Luckily there was no lasting damage.
The parents put a stop to that game also, just not soon enough.
We had an elderly neighbor lady that had an erector set for her grandkids when they would visit, so she would let me come over and play with it on occasion. I still think that was one of the best toys ever designed for kids and it’s a shame that today’s kids don’t have that experience. It really helped teach me mechanics and building techniques.
Dad was finally able to buy a home on a lease-option and we moved into it right after Christmas 1949. It was a one bedroom with a back porch that served as the boy’s room and had an outhouse for the basics. Dad soon added a bathroom but had to add a septic tank and leach field as well since the kitchen sink had been the only plumbing and it drained into a small cistern. We all pitched in to hand dig the hole for the block septic tank he put in. I'm sure I wasn't much help at that age but I do remember it. The next year he doubled the size of the house by adding three bedrooms and converting the original bedroom into a dining room. It was now very spacious for the six of us and measured 30’ by 32’ outside. We lived in this house until we four kids had all left high school and the folks sold it around 1970.
Chapter 3
Shortly after moving into this house I managed to fall through the ceiling and take the skin off my shin bone. I had followed my two brothers into the attic but did not realize you have to walk on the rafters, not the ceiling boards. We all caught the devil over that, but the lesson has served me well over the years as it only happened one other time.
My other leg carries a scar also but it was not self applied. Around this same age I was watching my brothers play with and hammer on an object and it suddenly exploded causing my leg to really pain and blood was really running from my knee. The boys told dad they were hammering on a piece of wire and a chunk flew off and hit me. But when the doctor removed it from my skin, it turned out to be the primer cap from a 30-06 rifle shell. They had pulled the lead from the casing, poured out the powder and hammered on the casing until the primer discharged and embedded itself in the nosey little brother.
For the first time we had a lawn that needed to be mowed so dad brought home a brand-new reel type mower as a present to the kids. I remember us fighting over who got to use it first and then it wasn’t long before we fought over who had to do it. The fun ends ‘reel’ fast with a reel mower. More of that cheap labor at work.
Dad decide he wanted to keep bees and produce our own honey so he bought a swarm and hive from a local beekeeper and placed it in the rear of our lot next to a building he built for a Mother-in-Law house. My grandmother lived with us for one year and this was her domicile. One of the times I was tormenting my sister she started chasing me so I ran around this small building. Realizing the beehive was there and only about two feet between it and the building, I decided I could sneak through and maybe she would not follow and/or they would not notice us. I did, she did and they did, all real fast. We both ended up with bee stings, and she was terrorized by them getting in her hair and buzzing angrily.
Not to be outsmarted by nature I had to try another adventure. Alice and I were wandering across an alfalfa field that had just been harvested and in the stubble I spied a tiny skunk, probably only a few days old. I told her I was going to catch it to play with as babies can’t spray. Let me share with you the truth about that; a face-full of baby skunk spray is just as effective as an adult’s. I didn’t take the baby home but mom knew what I’d been up to even without me telling her. Moms just know those things.
I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I was about eleven because I couldn’t afford my own and dad couldn’t buy me one either. My brothers earned money enough to buy themselves 26” English racers and they were too big for me to manage. I kept begging them to give me rides on their bikes, “Pump me Please” fell on deaf ears. Allan kept saying he would give me a ride when I learned how to ride by myself. I did not realize his logic until they got a car, handed over the bike to me and I did learn how. Then I didn’t need him to pump me around. I don’t believe they ever did give me a ride.
One of the best memories of that era was my baby brother Calvin who was born just before my twelfth birthday. Alice and I were in charge of the cooking and cleaning while mom was indisposed and I learned a lot about those talents. Doesn’t mean I learned to be a chef but was able to find my way around a kitchen when needed. We were very happy to have a little shaver to be surrogate parents for and really enjoyed having him to care for. That also taught me a love of and how to care for children which paid off several years later.
I was only 10 years old when I contracted Rheumatic Fever and had to spend a week in the hospital. Fortunately the Doctor had had another case with another boy my age the week before and had found out the treatment needed so that I got treated right away and it did not have any lasting effect. I did miss a month of school and still remember the pain in my joints from it. Not a happy experience for that age but better than some have had.
The only other medical issues I had was to have my tonsils removed when I was seven. I asked the doctor before hand if he would save them so I could see them when I awakened and he promised he would. However, they were not to be found after I came out of the anesthesia. I’ve never forgiven him for that, it was a big disappointment at that age.
Another disappointment along that time was to be too young to climb up in the Montezuma’s Castle ruins. At that time they allowed visitors to do that if they were seven years or older. When our family went there was just a few months prior to my 7th birthday so I could not go up with them, but was promised that they would bring me again after I was old enough. Time went by and we did not go back even though it was less than 20 miles but then the State Parks department made the decision to close the ruins to all access and I never did get to go inside that monument.
I played Little League baseball a couple years but did not ever really excel at it, did have a lot of fun and baseball is still my favorite sport. The only injury I received from playing was one night game when I was playing first and made the mistake of putting my foot on the base and the batter stepped on my ankle. That took me out of that game and caused me some grief for a few days but had no real injury, just bruising. It did get me some special treatment so I guess it was worth it.
Chapter 4
During this time we had a little black mongrel of a dog we named Butch. He was a lot of fun and a good companion even though we didn’t train him well. He had a hair-lip, the only dog I’ve ever known to have one. It made him look like he was always snarling. He loved to push a coffee can around the yard with his nose. He would stick his nose in it and run all around the yard pushing it on the ground and then toss it and go after it again. He was very possessive of his food and would attack anyone who got near his bowl. Actually got to the point where he would snarl and snap at us if we just held our hand in a claw-like posture. He terrorized the neighborhood kids and in today’s society would have probably been euthanized. I remember that he drew blood on a few occasions but no one was ever seriously hurt. It was usually a result of adolescent teasing that resulted in a bite. On one occasion my dad was in the front yard watering with a garden hose and Butch snarled at him for some reason and dad swung the end of the hose at him and knocked him out. I thought he had killed the dog and was very upset but after a few moments, he revived and life went on.
My dad only had a high school education so he never had a really good paying job but he was hard working and honest. He managed to raise 5 kids and we all turned out pretty good. None of us became lawyers or doctors but none of us ended up in jail or hung up on drugs. To my knowledge none of us even experimented with them. Alcohol did get abused by a couple of us for awhile but not to our destruction. Dad and mom did manage to teach us honesty and ethics, not that it showed when we were teenagers. Both my older brothers and I all had to sow some wild oats through our teens but we got it out of our systems and went on to lead honest lives.
Some of those oats were sown by my brothers one weekend when in their late teens and dad and mom took Alice and I on a trip; I have no clue now to where. When we returned Sunday evening, dad saw a tarp lay over his pickup truck cab and he knew something was amiss. When he pulled it off, the damage made apparent the fact it had rolled over. Seems the brothers and a couple friends went for a joy ride Saturday night and failed to negotiate a sharp curve on a dirt road. Luckily, no one was hurt although on boy was ejected but the truck just missed landing on him. It was quite awhile before they got the keys again.
We only had one divorce in the whole bunch. Mom and dad were married 64 years when she died, Al and his wife Sandy just celebrated their 50th, Don and Elsie are coming up on 49. Alice’s husband died from complications of diabetes after they had passed the 27th year, and she has not remarried. Ellie and I just passed the 40th year. Calvin was only married about two years and then remained single until he died of cancer at 42.
Dad tried to teach us boys the joy of fishing but he only liked to fish for catfish. If you have ever done it, you will understand why it didn’t take. He would take one of us at a time on an overnight trip on the Verde River, usually between Cottonwood and Camp Verde, and we would have to set quietly on the bank all night without talking or moving. Anything we would do might scare away the fish. None of us ever cared to fish after that.
Hunting was another story; all of us enjoyed that because it involved action and guns. There’s a significant difference in the excitement of a gun compared to a fishing pole. We didn’t always perform to his expectations but we did adequately enough that he did continue to allow us to participate in the sport. I call it a sport because it is an action that doesn’t necessarily bring home the bacon. That’s why it is called ‘hunting’, not ‘bringing’. I always enjoyed the trip; the camping, campfire, hiking over the hills and gazing at the scenery. The anticipation of a possible taking of big game certainly played a big part, but was not the all-in-all for me. I have even gone on hunting trips with others when I did not have a permit nor carried a gun, but just enjoyed the outing. Most hunters I have known have expressed regret when they obtained their animal early in the hunt and caused the trip to be short, missing out on the camping and camaraderie.
Tales of a Time Now Gone
Chapter 5
Other fond memories of my childhood were family outings along the Verde River. Generally our Easter Sunday consisted of a picnic under a giant cottonwood tree and we kids got to swim in the river. This photo is of Alice and I on one such trip.
The black dog is Butch. There was a beaver dam about halfway between Cottonwood and Camp Verde, near the mouth of Oak Creek that was a favorite spot for fishermen and picnickers alike.
A few years later when my younger brother Cal was about 2, he fell in the river when unattended and nearly drowned but a family friend saw him and pulled him out in time. That was a scare that kept us more vigilant on subsequent trips.
Another favorite spot was just north of Clarkdale near a hydro-electric plant known as TAPCO which stood for Texas Arizona Power Co. It was built many years earlier to supply power for the town of Clarkdale and the smelter operation there. They had a swinging walk bridge across the river that we all enjoyed crossing. It was suspended on steel cables and they kept it in good repair as the employees used it to cross from the parking lot to the plant. I don’t know if it still exists or if the plant still generates power for community.
There was a spring just around the corner from there that had ice-cold water running from a metal pipe that someone had installed years before. We always stopped to enjoy it when in that area. It never stopped running until in the 70’s when oil interests did some exploratory drilling in that region and must have affected the underground water channels. It dried up and never returned.
The entire Verde Valley had been inhabited many years ago by primitive American Indian tribes and there are many ruins and caves with evidence of habitation. The most significant are Tuzigoot Monument at Clarkdale and Montezuma’s Castle near Camp Verde. But almost every ridge top and small hill has some sort of Indian signs. One of our favorites at the time, it was not illegal then to pot-hunt or look for arrowheads, was a small hill south of Cottonwood above the Verde River just north of the community of Bridgeport. We called it Sugar-Loaf, I don’t know if that was an official name or just a local reference. It was cone shaped and only a couple hundred feet high and was littered with pot shards. My mother could spot arrowheads easily and I could never find one, I just had not trained my eye to see them. We spent many a day pouring over that little hill. Don’t know if the state ever declared it an actual ruin or did any excavation of it.
All along the river are cliffs with small caves that have smoked ceilings and pot shards indicating they were used to some degree, probably as hunting camps more than dwellings. Whatever, it made for interesting exploration by teenagers in an age when government hadn’t taken total control of our lives. Those experiences aroused in me an interest in archeology that I still have but never pursued as a vocation. I still love to read about discoveries of ancient pyramids and sunken sea vessels.
The automobile was a big part of our life even then and I could not wait to learn to drive and so I practiced in our back yard when dad wasn’t around. At the time I was 15, our family car was a 1947 Chevy coupe with standard transmission and column shift. I would spend some time after school getting acquainted with the gears and clutch so when the time came I could get my license.
Mingus Union High School was created in 1958 by combining Clarkdale and Cottonwood high schools. The first year I was a freshman and we used the buildings at Clarkdale but outgrew it and the next year we moved into the old school buildings in Jerome. These had been vacated when Jerome had closed the mining operations in 1953. The structures were still usable and made for a decent school for many years. The drawback for students was that there was no parking space so all students had to be bussed.
So driving to school was not an option but skipping and tooling around town was. Mom took a job in a shirt factory for a few months so the car was home alone all day and I took advantage of the situation to skip school a few times with some friends and we would take the Chevy coupe for daytime joy rides. I was fortunate that I did not damage it or get in some kind of trouble, God definitely watches over his errant children.
When I finally did get my license and could drive legally, dad bought another car for mom and me to share. It was a 1954 Pontiac that he had to rebuild the engine but otherwise was in great shape. This would have been about 1961. At one time I pulled out from a stop sign at a dirt intersection and a neighbor girl my age was speeding from my left. She was far enough away that I could have cleared the intersection had she been driving slower but I misjudged her speed and she slid her tires in the gravel for a long ways before hitting my car in the left rear door. This pulled the door post away from my door and allowed me to fall out of the car. When the dust had settled, I was lying on my back on the ground with my feet still in the car and my face just inches from her left front tire. I wasn’t injured but it sure made me a believer in seatbelts. That car didn’t have them so we installed them soon after. At that time you could do that but they might not have been effective in a bad accident. Fortunately, I never had to find out.
Mom and I almost wrecked dad’s pickup one time at the county landfill by forgetting to set the parking brake. We had parked with it facing uphill and the back to the pit and were standing off to one side when it started rolling backward toward the pit. I ran and opened the door, barely managing to jump in and hit the brakes before it went over the edge. Mom was terrified watching it happen and reamed me pretty good for taking a chance but at least we didn’t have to explain to dad about a dumb mistake, or the expense of getting a tow truck to pull it out.
I will share some more next week, check back (if you can stand it).