Lovers of the Ozarks - Part 2

Bellings & Shivarees

A Belling or Shivaree was a common practice throughout the Ozarks in the rights of a newlywed couple to endure. It was to the good pleasure of the married folk to play practical jokes & indulge nonsense on the newly initiated. Sometimes it went a bit too far. A couple may come in their home and find all the furniture turned upside-down, the firewood scattered over the yard, or a noisy serenade of cowbells & frying pans.

For my family, many times, the jokes did not slow down after a shivaree. I remember old stories that were reminisced at family gatherings about my Great Uncle Jimmy Anderson. He never let an opportunity slip by without playing a joke on some family member...even after the wedding had ended...years before. One time he found my Grandpa & Granny Anderson were away from home. The doors were unlocked; actually, nobody locked their doors. He strewed firewood all over the yard and flipped the furniture upside-down. My grandparents came home and cleaned up the mess without saying a word or complaining to anyone. Grandpa Mack knew who did it but acted like nothing happened, and this all the more grated on Uncle Jimmy. Nevertheless, it payday was coming. One evening  Grandpa Mack had two of his boys, Berman & Jerel Anderson, sneak over to Uncle Jimmy's house when he wasn't home. They climbed up on the rooftop of the house and stuffed a wet tow-sack into the stove pipe. They also put Uncle Jimmy's false teeth in the flour bin.  Later that evening, Uncle Jimmy came home and started a fire in his potbellied stove and smoke filled the place. Nothing had to be said between the two, and a truce was drawn between the brothers.

I hope to use this story helps to set in context for the conclusion of the article below. We will hear about a newlywed couple in Gainesville, Missouri, that endured a "Belling" or "Shivaree." Sometimes, tomfoolery & shenanigans make up a part of our...Ozarks' History.

I hope you enjoy the conclusion of -

" Lovers of the Ozarks - Part 2"

It is said that one-third of the Taney lovers have to fly to Arkansas to marry. On the other hand, Arkansas lovers come north into Missouri. Squire Linzy issues warrants and marriage certificates with impartial hand. Justice Jones of Forsyth, however, has a greater runoff custom, from the fact that the lovers needs come or send to Forsyth for a license. A marriage a week is about the average.

In spite of the fact that marriages are common, there is enough rowdyism about Forsyth young men to make them give every couple “a belling” that stays over night. The belling is generally short and noisy. The boys fire revolvers and beat tin pans and devices. The groom comes out and says he is sorry, and trys for enough cheap cigars to go around, but sometimes the groom is stubborn. Charley Blood and Al Baldwin, two commercial travelers from Springfield, fell in with such a groom once, only it was over in Gainesville, in Ozark county, another border county.

The young man was from Arkansas, of course, and he vowed he would die or kill somebody before he would be compelled to say he was sorry, even if the expression didn’t mean anything. He’d smelled powder and heard the bullets whistle as he fled with his sweetheart. That is not an unusual condition of affairs in this country, but it made an impression on him that determined him to resist the “bellers.” He stood the racket bravely. The upper half of the window of his room at the hotel was shot out, the pieces of glass was covering the bed completely. The powered glass was mixed with powered plaster a-plenty.  The boys got a ladder and proposed to charge up mat and drag the young man out.  He shouted, when he heard the ladder, that they’d better not try to break in, for it would be lawful to shoot them, and he’d do it.  So they abandoned that. Finally at about midnight the racket ceased for a short time. The hosts were in consultation. They had hit upon a plan. One of the boys went to the store and got half a pound of red pepper, another got an auger, and, going into the loft over the young man’s room, bored a hole through the flooring, laid there, and poured the pepper through that hole and down through the bullet holes in that plastering into time room, That fetched the groom and his bride both. He gave it up, and said he was sorry, and treated the crowd, like a man, to two cigars each, instead of one. They were so tickled over their success that they bought the best cradle the town afforded next morning, and, filling it with fixings for housekeeping,  gave them to the young couple with the usual speech making in which the heart of the Missourian delights.

There are all sorts of girls in the Ozarks, just as there are in other regions, but there are more attractive ones here in proportion to the number of people than in most regions. As compared with time mountains of West Virginia and eastern Kentucky, for instance, time Ozarks are away ahead. It is a different people here, anyhow.  Along the Big Sandy the men shoot each other from time brush: here they jump “out into the clear” in some way, and although the quickest man lives, the man who dies has had sort of chance for his life. The quick fellow’s pistol might have failed to work, for instance. Naturally daughters of men who scorn to take a mean advantage have somewhat of the characters of their fathers, and their characters show in their faces.

The climate does much for them also, and there is an air of robust health, due to open-air-mountain life, that compensates for any lack of knowledge of social requirements. They are not only handsome and well formed, but they are vivacious and affectionate. They have a frankness of speech that though somewhat likely to be misunderstood by a stranger a first, is nevertheless one of the characteristics that make them charming.

AN OZARK BEAUTY.

There are, however drawbacks to a courtship when carried on by a stranger. Among these are the differences in language.  A New Yorker, for instance, on coming here and talking to a young lady, would be very apt to say, “I beg pardon,” if he failed to hear something that she had said. That would be a “stunner” for the Ozark girl, as she would say.  She could not comprehend an apology when no offense had been committed, so far as she knew.  If she failed to understand something which he said, she would say inquiringly: “Huh?”  That might be a stunner to the Now Yorker. If after n proper acquaintance, he should foolishly ask for instead of taking a kiss, she would say sharply: “Huh-uh,” with a downward inflection in the voice equaled only by the downward tendency of her estimate of the young man. But should he win her heart and ask her some evening it she loved him as much as she did the evening before, she would close her full lips into the prettiest pout imaginable and murmur sweetly: “Um-hum-m-m, I love you a sight dearie,”

Another drawback to an Ozark courtship is the necessity of being quick with a gun. In the Ozarks “the gun” is a big revolver. Not that Ozark lovers must always or even commonly fight for their sweethearts. But they must always be prepared to do so. The Ozark girl fears neither man nor beast, and could conceal her contempt for the man who flunked even for one instant. No New Yorker without long practice, not oven time skilled patrons of Conlin’s shooting gallery, could live through an Ozark shooting  match, and it would be uncomfortable, if heroic, to die even for an Ozark girl, especially as she would be sure to marry the survivor.

The picture of “An Ozark Beauty” is from a photograph of one of time handsomest ladies of the region, but it is nevertheless typical.  Although married for a number of years, she is like all women who are well treated, handsome in her maturity than she was in the freshness of girlhood. Although more than 30 years old, she seems to be no more than 22. This is one of the peculiarities of the region. Not that a majority of the women retain their youth so long, but that a larger proportion of them do than in the ordinary country communities.

Work Cited:

“The Lovers of the Ozarks.” The Sun 61.156 (3 Feb. 1889): 8. Access Newspaper Archive Access. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 11 Nov. 2010 http://access.newspaperarchive.com.

Lovers of the Ozarks - Part 1

How hard is it to find love in the Ozarks in 1889?

It may be as easy as finding Planet X in the southern ecliptic plane in the Constellation of Orion this midsummer. It seems this Nemesis of Love seems to crouch around every rock.

Nevertheless, this story has the elements of a great Ozark Saga, such as:

• An Angry Father
• A Stolen Kiss
• Mrs. Branson
• A Branson Get-a-Way
• Arkansas Elopement
• Baldknobbers  
• A Posse Chase
• And…Handsome, Vivacious, and Affectionate Ozark Girls

Again, there are words & spellings in this article that we do not use today. For those who live in Kirbyville, Missouri, this article spells it "Kerbyville."

 

 I hope you enjoy!

THE LOVERS OF THE OZARKS

A WILD RACE THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS FOR ARKANSAS

Ozark Girls are Handsome, Vivacious, and Affectionate, but Eastern Lovers Must Learn Some Things to Win Them.

KERBYVILLE, Taney county, Mo., Jan 25. - There is a thrill in the heart of the Taney lover of which the lover beyond Taney civilization knows little. All lovers know the thrills which come from sly glances of bright eyes and from the touch of soft hands or of maiden’s breath.  The Taney lover knows and appreciates these, but there is something that compresses more to stir his blood. It is something that compresses the joys and fears and the anxieties and the anxieties and excitements of the whole lifetime of the ordinary limp and matter-of-fact lover of the North into the brief space of two hours.

Just two miles southwest of this village lives A. J. Storms, a ranch owner of considerable intelligence.  “He’d a sight of stock, but the pick o’ the bunch was his daughter,” in the vernacular of the country. Her name was Lois. Lois is as common here as the variations of Mary are in New York. Lois had wavy, light hair that banged bewitchingly round cheeks that slowed with health and flushed carmine at the least excitement, and a form that was a delight to the eye. Lois was but 16. Girls are older here at 16 than New York girls at 18 or 19.

Lois was the pride of her father and the sweetheart of Langston Bishop. Bishop came from Davis county.  He was a likely young man, but Mr. Storms seeing that Lois was in love with Bishop and therefore likely to marry him and go away, determined to break off the match and the young man’s head at the same time, if necessary Mr. Storms came to this conclusion suddenly one afternoon in August. Lois was helping her mother put up peaches beneath a big oak tree in the front yard when young Bishop came walking by. Bishop tarried to help with the peaches and Mrs. Storms, mother fashion, remembered some other work that had to be done immediately. Left alone time lovers enjoyed life for an hour or two, and then Lois cut a pretty finger with her poach knife. The peach juice made it smart, and in a moment the girl’s eyes were full of tears. Bishop couldn’t help it; he just done had to kiss those tears away, just as other lovers who have not had Taney experience would have done.

Unfortunately old Storms come around the corner just then and “got mad” at once. He picked up a gad that was lying on the ground and came down on the lovers like a tornado. Bishop would not run. The first blow of the gad fell not on Bishop but the girl; she had jumped in between the two men.  Then Bishop picked up a “rock” and knocked the old man endways with it.

That brought matters between him and Lois to a climax. If he were ever to get the girl now was his chance. Storms was a Bald Knobber, and when he got up and swore he would fix the hot-headed young lover the threat had a business end to it. But Storms believed in doing things according to the form of law, and he at once hastened to Justice of the Peace S. W. Linzy and issue a proclamation calling on all good citizens to “follow, pursue, overtake and capture the aforesaid Langston Bishop, and bring him duly bound with these presents,” &c.  In Taney county that is sufficient warrant for an armed posse to hunt a man and shoot him to death if he fails to throw up his hands at the order when overtaken.

Bishop knew all about this.  As the old man rode off for the warrant Bishop was hastening to his boarding place - or rather Henry Branson’s farm where he worked - for two saddle horses. Mrs. Branson herself helped him with the horses, but it all took precious time, and Bishop stopped for nothing but his pocketbook and revolver, and then away he went.

Lois, with a small bundle of clothing in one hand and clad in a riding habit, stood on a corner of the rail fence as he came along. Her mother, good soul, stood in the doorway crying and wiping her eyes on her apron. With a jump the girl was in the saddle before the horse had stopped, and with a wave of her hand she was gone.

Then began a wild race for the Arkansas line, twenty miles away, with the posse of good citizens leaving the Squire’s door two miles off at Kerbyville.  Clip-it-ty-clip went the hoofs of the lovers horses, the boy with his race over his shoulder half the time, looking for pursuers; the girl with her head bent forward, her cheeks aglow, and her long yellow hair floating in the air. You must needs keep a-jogging lad, for the posse behind you scents blood and is as eager as the devil. And jog he did, uphill and down, and through ravines with the gloom of night, and a gloomier foreboding of ill success in his heart. On and on the mountains growing higher and the country wilder as they go, with scarce ever a check to the mad gallop oven when the road was roughest, for where is the Taney horse that is not accustomed to a twenty mile dash over a Taney road?

By and by when three-fourths of the distance has been covered and no sign of pursuit seen, the lovers came out of a dark hollow and see, not a mile away on the other bald ridge, a half dozen horsemen plunging along.

“Whoo-e-e!”  The horsemen see the lovers, and a faint yell comes down the wind.  The girl plies a hickory switch till her horse files, and the boy sets home the spurs till the blood drips from time rowels. It is down grade now through the White River bottom, and but five miles away is the home of Horace Doss, the friend of all runaway Taney lovers,  who will bar his door against the pursuers.

“Whoo-e-e!”  The yell is heard again but it is fainter.

By the Lord, we are gaining says the boy, and once more they ply whip and spur. Alas! If this were a novel, the lover and his girl would spring through Doss’s open door just in time to escape the shower of bullets which the baffled pursuers would fire after them. Not so in this case. The yell I had grown fainter because the posse led by Constable Dick Prather, was taking a shorter cut up a branch and over the divide to head the lovers off. Dick had yelled because he found the lovers had taken the long road.

Three miles further on, with hearts beating high with hopes the lovers rounded a turn on the river bank and came out into an open space lighted by the full moon. Square across the road stood a line of horsemen with guns leveled, while a voice said with a threat and sternest:

“Throw up your hands, Lang Bishop.”

There was nothing for it but to obey, and long before morning Mrs. Storms was putting her weeping daughter to bed and saying, “Never mind dearie; it will be all right yet.” While the lover, too bitterly disappointed to even curse his luck, was lying on the wooden cot in Forsyth jail.  Of course he was bailed out next day; all sorts of criminals get bail here, and why not a lover?  Of course, he tried for the girl again and with better luck.

Part 2 Next Week

Work Cited:

“The Lovers of the Ozarks.” The Sun 61.156 (3 Feb. 1889): 8. Access Newspaper Archive Access. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 11 Nov. 2010 http://access.newspaperarchive.com.

Legends of the Ozarks – Part 2

Old Blue Arrow.

Six miles from its headwaters which have their rise among the mountains of Newton county, in Arkansas, the Buffalo river flows straight against a rocky spur which divided the limpid stream and sends the waters tumbling down away down narrow valleys on either side. For more than twelve miles the two streams flow in separate beds, and then gradually they approach a common point where again the waters commingle and race away in turbulent precipitancy to join the broad flood of the White, making of the mountains spur an island twelve miles long and about ten miles across at its greatest breath. About midway between the dividing and reuniting of the waters the little village of Jasper, the seat of Newton county, nestles in the valley on the south side of the mountain spur. It was here that many years ago a renowned Indian hunter, Old Blue Arrow, lived and flourished and terrified the red men who inhabited that region.

This old hunter, so runs the legend, left his home and tribe in Kentucky and, because he was disappointed in love, wandered away into the wilds of the Ozarks to live alone and to make war against all living creatures, fish, fowl, beast and man. Building his shack of bark among the rocks of the island spur he terrorized the surrounding Indians by his tremendous deeds of valor and for hundreds of miles around the name of Old Blue Arrow was a nightmare to the aborigines. He got his title from a peculiar arrow which he alone used and knew how to make. It was of a steel blue Hint, hard as a Damascus blade and keen as a razor.

The edges were smoothly beveled, and there was an entire absence of that clipped off appearance that all other Indian arrowheads have. The workmanship was perfect, and with such a barb Old Blue Arrow could easily send his shaft clean in through the body of an Indian or a deer and bury it to the feathers in a buffalo bull. The arrowheads may be found to this day near the site of Jasper, but nowhere else have they ever been found. Old Blue Arrow's' terrible reputation was the cause of his ultimate undoing, for one night more than 300 Indians surrounded him as he slept and made a porcupine of his gigantic body with their arrows. But his secret of making arrowheads died with him, and is now one of the lost arts of the red man.

Ashes of a Lost Race.

The weird and wonderful legend which hangs about a mysterious cave in the very heart of the Ozark region might inspire an imaginary writer with thoughts as strange and romantic as those which Rider Haggard writes down in his pages. Stories that have to do with lost races, prehistoric peoples and the strange creatures of humankind that live or have lived in the earth are always fraught with a peculiar interest and an irresistible charm that is found in no other lore. In Stone county, Ark., eighty-five miles from a railroad, there is a high ridge, a sort of backbone or the Sherman range or the Ozark mountains running from Big Flat, in Baxter county, to Sylamore, a boat landing on White river.

For twenty miles a mountain road runs along the crest or this ridge, south and east, through a magnificent forest of stately white oak, hickory and pine until it reaches the buffs of White river and descends to the water by a series of long, sweeping curves. For a mile or more on either side of this road before the level flat on the crest is broken by hundreds of little canyons and gulches running north and south, the grass grows shoulder high and deer and timber wolves, turkey and quail, and countless squirrels share the solitude and enjoy immunity from the pot hunters who frequent the domains nearer to civilization and railroads 

About midway between Big Flat and Sylamore, an unusually large canyon makes off toward the north, sloping gently at its head from the level plateau to the great ridge, and the occasional hunter who finds, his way down the gulch pushes through a tangle or hazel, giant grapevines and the usual undergrowth common to the mountains of Northwest Arkansas. It is on the east side of the lonely gulch, about 150 yards below the head, that the low, narrow opening of the mysterious ash cave gapes in forbidding silence at the intruder. Here you are in the very heart of the mountains and our only companion is nature company enough sometimes, too much at others, and again none at all. But the legend: Fancy if you can a vast wilderness, our own broad country centuries before Columbus. A race of sturdy people dwell here, till the soil, fight their enemies and built great mounds. Their pride is their health and strength, and in all the wide domain there are fewer senile, sick, halt and blind than might now be found in a small city. Once in every five years these unfortunates set out upon a journey, they know not to what bourne. Guided by their holy men, the melancholy procession winds over hill and down dale, across rivers and through gloomy and almost impenetrable forests, until some evening when the sun pauses on the western horizon for a last look they arrive at the place of doom. It is the broad plateau, and hard by is the cave where burn the devouring fires eternally tended by the sacrificial priesthood. One by one little parties are led away, the fires eagerly consume the victims and slowly the army of the doomed disappears. And now, in these latter days, as the intruder pushes his way into the cave, he sinks to his knees in great billows of the ashes or this departed race. Such is the legend which the Indians have handed down to the present day, and who shall say that it is entirely fanciful?

S.E. SNYDER

Reflection

And now my Dear Reader, these some of the fanciful legends that were once told in times past. Though you may think they are truthfully handed down or the chatter of of an empty-headed writer, I hope it is at your pleasure to again recount to other generations the old tales of our Ozarks' History.

Work Cited:

Snyder, S. E.  “Legends of the Ozarks.” Kansas City Journal. 41.170 (27 Nov. 1898) 16. Chronicling America. The Library of Congress, Washington, D. C. 11 Jan. 2008 http://www.chroniclingamerica.loc.gov.

Legends of the Ozarks – Part 1

  As a kid, I always enjoyed hearing stories from long ago about the Ozarks. Many nights, my dad would tuck me in bed and tell me old American Indian stories of hunting parties roaming the hills of Ozark County, Missouri. Thinking back to that time, I start combing databases for forgotten stories that hearkened back to that era.

  In this next series, I found an old Kansas City Journal newspaper from November 27, 1898. I not only like these stories for their scenes and action, but for the style, sentence structure, and word syntax used. Actually, there are some words used I have rarely seen in a newspapers, and some made me wonder if they were truly words. For example, the words such as "mayhap," “royling,” and “mediumship” are not easily defined because spelling has changed over the past 112 years. Nevertheless, they can be still understood because of the beautiful context in which they are placed. Also, when was the last time you have read phrases such as, “weird and wonderful picturesqueness,” “vestige of human habitation,” or “six lusty buffalo bulls?”

I have endeavored to transcribe the stories word for word. For those who are the Political Correctness Police, read no further; you will be disappointed. The words “Redman” and “Paleface” are in these stories. Sorry, but that’s how it was written at that time; therefore, I will not whitewash and filter history for those who are faint of heart or ears.

I hope you enjoy a slice of our Ozarks’ History.

LEGENDS OF THE OZARKS

folklore of an interesting and picturesque country.

How Gideon Sims Discovered the Secret of the Great Spirit –

Why the Osages Disappeared –

Old Blue Arrow’s Fate.

That remarkable region known comprehensively as the Ozarks has a charm particularly its own.  Finding peace as it placed in the very center of our great nation domain. It is not known as well as it should be and it has been neglected by the very class or people who would most appreciate its natural beauties and be most moved by the fascination of its weird and wonderful picturesqueness. In the heart of this rugged country one may find himself as entirely removed from the precincts of man as though he were in the wildest regions of the Sierra Madre. It is a wonderland of hills and mountains, wild lonely gorges and beetling bluffs, clear sweet springs and swift shadow rivers with many a green fertile valley tucked snugly in between. Peace dwells here, for many years have passed since the crack of the bold robber's rifle was heard and the simple people who find a livelihood in the narrow pent-in valleys have their latchstrings constantly hanging ready to the stranger's hand and their frugal hospitality is dispensed with a generosity that never fails to warm and win the heart. It is not surprising that such a region should be rich in legend and story, tales and traditions.

It has its own peculiar kind, not radically incoherent perhaps, from the like lore of other wild regions, but tinctured with a regalia charm that cannot be mistaken by those who are familiar with its character, its people and its past. For the authenticity of the legends which follow, I will not vouch. I simply write what I have been told in the hope that the reader may be as interested in the perusal as I have been in the recounting.

Country of the Six Bulls.

The earliest name known to have been affixed to the region now known as Jasper, Newton and McDonald counties was "Country of the Six Bulls." The earliest settlers knew it by that title. The origin of the name is involved in mystery. Tradition has been handed down that the Indians at an early period killed somewhere in the region six lusty buffalo bulls, remarkable for their strength and fierceness, and from this circumstance the scene of their valorous exploit was ever afterward known as the "Country of the Six Bulls". It has been justly remarked that this explanation would seem plausible if we had the name in the Indian language, instead of such plain and unmistakable Saxon.

But we are indebted to the late Judge John C. Cox of Joplin, for an explanation which seems more trustworthy. According to Judge Cox the first white man who traversed this region was Edmund Jennings, a wild Western traveler, or the Daniel Boone or Simon Kenton type. He was unmarried, possessed of means, and belonged to a family numbering among its members several prominent mid distinguished men. He was unit adventurous royling in his disposition and some seventy-five years ago struck out on a solitary journey through the vast unexplored regions west of the Mississippi. On foot and alone he found his way into this region, and for fifteen years lived on peaceable terms with the Indians. His neighbors gave him up for dead.  One day, however, to the great surprise of the community among he had formerly lived, he returned dressed in buckskins and moccasins, and so unused to the English language that it was with difficulty that he made himself understood. The people gathered for miles around to hear his wonderful stories of his life in the Western solitudes. Judge Cox, who at that time was a mere lad, on one of those occasions, heard him relate his adventures. His description of the face of the country was as accurate as could be given at that time and corresponded exactly with the physical characteristics of Jasper county.  He stated that he had been in the West in the “Country of the Six Boils.”

His pronunciation of the word "boils" was so corrupt that his listeners first conceived it to be "bulls," but the old pioneer explained that he referred by the term to six boiling, bubbling streams of water that traversed his favorite region, and along whose banks for long years he had trapped and hunted. He doubtless alluded to the Cowskin Indian creeks, Shoal creek, Spring river and North Fork, and his description of the country was so complete and the marks of identification so clearly established that there is no doubt but that Jennings' "Country of the Six Bulls" was nothing else than the present Jasper and surrounding counties. 

The Great Fire Spirit.

Even at the present time there are old men living in Southwest Missouri, who from their early youth Old Gideon Sims, a great trapper and pioneer who hunted every hill and fished every stream in the country of the Six Bulls. Old Gideon was a welcome visitor in the rude home of early settlers, and while enjoying the sweetness of a tender, well broiled steak of venison with a hot corn dodger, the grizzled trapper would dilate upon some great hair-raising adventure with the Redskins or hold his audience open mouthed over some weird legend of a departed race. Among the most authentic of the traditions handed down through the mediumship of old Gideon is that of the Great Fire Spirit of the Neosho Indians.

The Indians told the most surprising stories of the Spirit and the intrepid pioneer resolved to see it. As redmen maintained a profound silence in Regard to its location he was compelled to use subtlety to discover it. He found that at the period of each new moon the redman sent out a delegation to carry offerings of flesh and corn to the Fire Spirit for its propitiation, so one time the wily old hunter left the Indian village a few days before a new moon and set out ostensibly on a hunt to the northward. He did not go far but hung about the vicinity with the purpose of following the party bound to the abiding place of their fiery god with the sacrificial offerings. He followed them due north for a night and a day and toward the evening they came to a big spring where they stopped to rest and cook their suppers. This spring is undoubtedly that which is now the pride of Neosho, the picturesque county seat of Newton. Dusk had hardly fallen when the Indians started upon on their journey to the northward, old Gideon still at their heels. It was well high midnight when the trapper noticed a, faint glow ahead. Upon nearer approach the glow grew brighter and the trapper distinctly felt a pulsation as though the heart of the earth were beating beneath his feet. The party had entered a warm draw or valley between the hills and skirting a thicket of persimmon trees to the right and a thick growth of oak and sassafras The Great Fire Spirit appeared before them in all his flaming majesty. The Indians cast their offerings into pillar of tire and fell prostrate, uttering strange guttural cries. Old Gideon, if we to credit his story, was not much less affected He gazed in amazement at the fiery tongue darting out from the rock mouth of the hillside and he was ready then to believe all the marvelous stories he had heard the Indians relate of the Great Fire Spirit.

The red men did not tarry long. But old Gideon determined to wait the coming of light and make a close examination. All night he watched the roaring, writhing, pulsating column of flame, but with the advent of the sunlight his awe and anxiety disappeared.  In truth after a few minutes he had intimate relations with the Fire Spirit. It so happened that a fat deer browsed that way and old Gideon's trusty rifle and keen hunting knife were not long providing him with a breakfast of juicy chops, cooked in the flame of the Fire Spirit. For the Fire Spirit was merely a burning jet from a reservoir of natural gas, ignited by a flash of lightning or mayhap by an Indian camp fire or a forest conflagration. But the jet of flame no longer burns. The Fire Spirit passed away with the Indians who worshiped it.

The Last of the Osages.

The Osage Indians with great tenacity clung to their hunting grounds, in Missouri. They lingered even after the paleface had usurped their lands and built his cabin on the site of their villages. A pretty legend attaches to the story of the Osage tribe illustrating childlike superstition of the people. It is told among themselves that a medicine man who lived even before time of the great waters had proclaimed that the Osage people would live in the happy enjoyment of their hunting grounds until a time when an arrow made of human bone should be hurled into the heart of their greatest chief the hand of the Great Spirit.

And so after many ages there arose among the Osage a chief who was renowned for his courage in battle, for his skill as a hunter and for his great strength and beauty. His brother, a young brave a courageous, as skillful and as handsome as the chief, had won the heart of a beautiful princess of his tribe and had brought her to his wigwam. They were very happy until one eyes of the great chief fell upon her charms and he longed to have her for his own. It was said that he tried to kill his brother and when he failed in this he boldly set about to steal in her love from him. The silly head of the princess was turned by his flatteries, his tales of the unfaithfulness of his bother, his rich gifts and by attention of so great a man, and often at night they met under the shadow of a great oak near a high bluff which overlooked a swift flowing stream.

One night when the harvest moon was high the chief and the guilty wife sought their trusting place by the oak. As they stood wrapped in their first ecstasy of greeting, the Great Spirit looked down. When a hunter passed by the great oak early next morning he found that the awful curse had fallen upon his tribe. The hearts of the guilty lovers were cleft and bound together by an arrow whose head was made from a human bone and at the foot of the cliff with a scalping knife in his heart lay the body of chief’s brother. The next day a party of paleface hunters came into the village and foot by foot the Osage gave ground until he found his final home in the Indian Territory, far from the streams and woods on which he loved so well.

Blue Springs.

At Blue Springs, which is eight miles from Eureka Springs, is a boiling, bubbling fountain springing out of the very center of a well shaded and grassy slope which shelves gently down to the river only a few hundred feet away. The water appears blue as indigo, but when dipped up in a glass it is found to be clear and sparkling as diamonds. From the spring the water hurries away to the river, losing its tiny flood in the larger stream. Just here the river is swift and the decaying ruins of an old water mill may be seen. The rude masonry, a portion of the heavy woodwork and other parts still remain moss covered, crumbling and yet in a good state of preservation when it is considered that they are relics of old Spanish occupation, built by Spanish hands. Your guide will tell you that a long time age - a band of Spanish gold hunters settled here. Where the spring now bubbles up they sink their shaft and they mill to wash and clean the ore. One day when the men were at work in the mine a mighty roar was heard and a tremendous column of water shot from the shaft, hurling miners, timbers and tools high in the air and rushing in a resistless torrent to the river. The angry waters carried away every so in the settlement, the old mill and every vestige of human habitation. The spring has been sounded to the depth of 1,500 feet but no bottom has been touched. The Spanish miners had cut into a subterranean river.

Next week, the conclusion of  Legends of the Ozarks.

Work Cited:

Snyder, S. E.  “Legends of the Ozarks.” Kansas City Journal. 41.170 (27 Nov. 1898) 16. Chronicling America. The Library of Congress, Washington, D. C. 11 Jan. 2008 http://www.chroniclingamerica.loc.gov.

Ozarks' History Around the World

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What do these have in common with Ozark’s History?

These are the readers & the tools they used to visit Ozarks' History Blog.

Last year there were also some favorite blogs.

I judged these by the amount of emails & comments on Facebook...not always by the number of hits by readers.

Here are the top 5 rankings by the volume of emails or responses...pro & con.

1st: The Thanksgiving Miracle

• On Thanksgiving weekend, 2010, we had 1974 hits and a lot of emails concerning this blog. I received more emails about this blog. Apparently, there are some who do & do not enjoy God or Religion mixed into History. The spectrum was on both sides and never in the middle. Guess which side I'm on.

2nd: My Dad

• This one was a tearjerker for me.

3rd: Our Nation Is to Be Destroyed…Tomorrow

•  This blog was about a Baxter County, Arkansas, preacher that gained international notoriety in 1907-1908. He declared "The End of The World." Many people responded in asking if this 3 Part story was true. 

  Answer: Yes, it was true.

4th: Small Beginnings in a Mammoth Surrounding: An Ozark County Family Journey

• This is about my Anderson family genealogy from Jackson County, Tennessee, to Ozark County, Missouri. My Dad & I retraced the journey back in June 2008. This story is over a year old. I have found more lost relatives from this blog than I could have ever imagined.

5th: Amazon Women Spotted in Ozark County

•  This one was a mixture of media sensationalism and genealogy. This blog is over a year old. Still, many people respond in asking if this 3 Part story was true. 

  Answer: Yes, it was true.

I would like to thank all who read & enjoy our Ozarks' History.

Vincent S. Anderson

vincent.a@baxlib.org

White River Development Association - Part 5

This is our last installment of the White River Development Association. As a personal note, I remember Letters to the Editor in The Baxter Bulletin in the 70's from our nice Yankee neighbors from Chicago claiming... if it wasn't for them, we (the Ozark Hicks) would still be using corn cobs & catalog pages to wipe our backsides.  To dispel the stink of these bygone claims, we will discover the Bankers, Businessmen, Farmers, Judges, Lawyers & Miners from 1915 that developed industry in the heart of the Ozarks. It's a beautiful & colorful design that makes our Ozarks' History.

Samuel E. "Happy Bill" Arp

Own among the trade and other knights of the grip, as Happy Bill Arp, is an Ozark mountain product, having been born in Ozark county, Missouri. Right now he domiciled in Mountain Home. He sells prunes, beans, kerosene, and other grocery sundries for the Calico Rock Grocery Company, of Calico Rock, Ark., and he gets the business. Samuel E. is not fat, just generally stout. He has originated the Happy Bill Arp smile that lights up his countenance like a 60 kilowatt Mazda, and it can’t be turned down or rubbed out, for it’s a part of his face, and he will never lose it unless he loses his head. The smile of Samuel is backed up by a well assorted stock of arguments for his line, is what bring home the bacon, and holds his job for him. He is a well known figure in the White river country and everyone is glad to see him blow in.

End.

Frank Carson, cashier of the Miners and Citizens Bank of Yellville, 

as he appears opening up in the morning.

Frank Carson is a well known citizen of Marion county and Yellville, the county seat. For years he has been connected with the Miners and Citizens bank in the capacity of cashier, and his face at the paying window is a part of the mosaic interior of that institution. Frank has a peculiar face, round, and as broad as it is long ever marked by that optimistic smile. He has carried this smile so long that its geniality has been stamped indelibly upon his features. Back of this smile, somewhere in the interior of his rotund antimony is the latent force that keeps it always in action. That characteristic in his personality that has bred optimism, geniality and good will toward men that the smile expresses. Incidentally, he is a self made Marion county man, successful in business and a progressive and broad minded citizen.

End.

 

Henry Aylor, county clerk of Baxter county 

recording a 50 page mortgage.

Henry Aylor, county clerk of Baxter county is probably one of the best known men in the county. He is a native son of the county and has been identified with its development ever since he was large enough to walk. For the past four years he has served the county as clerk. Before that he was deputy clerk, and before that a teacher. Both by education and characteristics he is well suited for a public servant. He is even tempered. Henry never, never gets excited. Never gets mad. Never allows himself to get hurried, is the very acme of thoroughness and is long on detail. Combined with these qualifications he has a fine sense of duty, and a genial pleasing personality. He also has a progressive spirit and is always found behind every move that tends to make Baxter county a better county, and a better place to live.

End.

 

Judge J. B. Baker, of Melbourne, Ark., 

circuit judge of the 16^th judicial district, 

writing up his Baxter county docket.

Judge J. B. Baker is one of the best known citizens and lawyers in the North Central part of the state in the Upper White river country. He is product of old Izard county and thinks it is the greatest county in the greatest state of the Union. The judge is a self-made man from the tips of his toe nails to the roots of this hair. The silver spoon was lacking when he was born and he had all the climbing up the ladder of success to do with his own efforts. He got his education in a log school house and studied his lessons by the flickering light of pine splinters. During his life he has specialized in law, banking and girls. He has practiced law all his life; for years been the guiding force in the Bank of Melbourne and other like institutions in this section of the state, and has raised a family of girls. Last election he was elected judge of the 16^th judicial district. His tenure in office has been marked by judicial firmness, fairness and strict attention to judicial duties. Business be fore the court is dispatched with alacrity. Off the bench, he is the court and knows nothing but the law. Besides this other qualifications of high citizenship, he is progressive. An eternal, everlasting, booster of Izard county and White river country. 

End.

Z. M. Horton of Mtn. Home,

Attorney at Law and Farmer.

Z. M. Horton is a well known attorney of Baxter county and this section of the state. He has practiced law for years in the courts of this district and has also served the county as a representative. As a lawyer he is a success having a large practice. Besides law he is a student of agriculture and farms for past time.  He is enthusiastic in the pursuit of both forms. Personally he is a hale fellow well met, and numbers his friends by the score over the White river country. He is a droll story teller and has a thousand anecdotes at his tongue’s end.  He is also a poet and really writes some very fetching stuff when the spirit moves him. Besides these man’s pleasing attributes of his personality, he is broad a minded progressive citizen, and a strong and vigorous booster for Baxter county.

End. 

 

Lee Paul, an estimable citizen of Mountain Home.

This is not an exact likeness of Mr. Paul, rather how he would look if so costumed. Our artist offers apologies to his wife for the reproduction. Lee can stand it without apologies. Mr. Paul is a well known and prominent citizen of Mtn. Home and Baxter county. He is a conspicuous by his ready wit, progressive and genial personality, and inconspicuous by his size. He is the smallest man in Mtn. Home. Besides exhibiting fondness for his wife and family, friends and acquaintances, good grub, etc., etc., he has a fondness for good mules, and has done much to raise the standard of that animal in Baxter county by the importation of good breeding stock. His other hobby is education, and he has done much to forward the educational interests of the county both by his influence and cash.

End. 

L. E. McCoy, Farm Demonstrator of Baxter county,

lost in a corn field on a Baxter county demonstration farm.

Mr. McCoy, is Baxter County’s first Farm Demonstrator. He is probably the longest farm demonstrator in the state, being built strictly along perpendicular lines. His long head is full of the better farming idea, and his long body is active in demonstrating it. He follows farm demonstrating not only as a business but because he loves to see things grow, with the crowning ambition of his life, to make them grow better. He has an active body of co-workers in Baxter county as there is in the state. Besides being a practical farmer, he is a graduate of the agricultural college of Mississippi.

End.

 

Robt. Russell, cashier of the People’s Bank

of Mountain Home striking balance.

 Bob Russell is a well known figure in the banking circles in North Arkansas, and handles the cash for one of the best paying little banking institutions in this section. He is a native of Baxter county having been born and raised here. In turn he has been farmer, stock-man and merchant, but he has made his greatest success in the banking profession. He has a conservative disposition, is a close student of human nature, and has a knack of making friends and holding them. He is also a humorist and is full of keen witticisms.

End.

 

Joseph Ward the Land Man, of Mtn. Home enjoying 

his favorite past time on the North Fork.

Joe Ward is classed as one of the most successful real estate men in the White river country. He has built his business on the solid foundation of the “Square Deal,” and has prospered. His clients always find things just a wee bit better than they expected. Mr. Ward has put more people into Baxter county than anyone and they are satisfied people too. He has been by far one of the most potent factors to date, that the country has had for development. He lived in the Ozarks for 30 years, and knows Ozark mountain soil like a book.

End. 

John Conness Shepherd, of Rush, 

largest zinc ore producer in North Arkansas field, 

noting the high price of smelter in theJoplin Globe, 

with a smile of satisfaction.

John Conness Shepherd, is originally from Washington D. C., and is the son of Boss Shepherd, once well known statesman of that city. Mr. Shepherd is both a practical and theoretical mining man, having had both the education and experience of the profession. He spent a good many years of his life in mining in old Mexico, coming to Arkansas three years ago, when the revolution broke out in that country. During the past three years he has produced more ore than any other operator ever produced in this field, and has been a very potent factor in its development. At the present time he is operating four properties. The Mackintosh, Leader, Philadelphia and Sure Pop. His operations at present are confined to the Buffalo river district. He lives at Rush, he and his charming wife having refitted the old mackintosh residence which makes them a lovely home.

End. 

W. M. Bill Hogan, merchant and tie contractor of Norfork, Ark.,

in an attitude that is not characteristic.

W. M. Bill Hogan might be termed the father of Norfork. Before he went there is wasn’t much of a town. He injected life into it by giving it a cash market for ties and timber, and it has grown and thrives ever since. Later he was one of the prime movers in the establishment of a banking institution for the town. Bill Hogan is big. He has big feet, big legs, a big brain, a big heart and a big voice. He is also big in a progressive way. His bigness and kind and pleasing personality has won for him an enviable reputation, both business and social in the White river country and if he should ever be so unfortunate as to die or if he ever moved away he would be missed from that section in proportion to his size.

End. 

 

Henry Aylor, county clerk of Baxter county

recording a 50 page mortgage.

Henry Aylor, county clerk of Baxter county is probably one of the best known men in the county. He is a native son of the county and has been identified with its development ever since he was large enough to walk. For the past four years he has served the county as clerk. Before that he was deputy clerk, and before that a teacher. Both by education and characteristics he is well suited for a public servant. He is even tempered. Henry never, never gets excited. Never gets mad. Never allows himself to get hurried, is the very acme of thoroughness and is long on detail. Combined with these qualifications he has a fine sense of duty, and a genial pleasing personality. He also has a progressive spirit and is always found behind every move that tends to make Baxter county a better county, and a better place to live.

End.

 

S. J. Hutcheson, a well known farmer

and stock-man of Norfork, roping a calf.

S. J. Hutcheson, Sid as he is commonly called, is a Baxter county product, and as a Baxter county product, has fruited well on its soil and in its sunshine. Sid has made good. He is self made. None helped him to get what he has. He started to hit the grit when he was a boy, behind old Beck and a pair of plough handles, and has been hitting it ever since in different ways. Sid has scaled the ladder himself. There was no one shoving, nor no one pulling. He is a conservative progressive citizen of the county.  A part of the county’s real backbone. He’s got a bunch of boys following in their Daddy’s footsteps too. 

End.

Works Cited:

The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – Bill Arp.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.20 (May 21, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

“The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – Henry Aylor.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.47 (Nov. 26, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

“The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – Frank Carson.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.50 (Dec. 17, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

“The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – W. B. Bill Hogan.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.48 (Dec. 3, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

“The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – Z. M. Horton.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.52 (Dec 31, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – S. J. Hutcheson.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.40 (Oct. 8, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

“The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – L. E. McCoy.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.24 (June 18, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

 “The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – Lee Paul.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.38 (Sept. 24, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

“The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – Robert Russell.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.28 (July 16, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – John Conness Shepherd.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.27 (July 9, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

“The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country – Joseph Ward.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.21 (May 28, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

White River Development Association - Part 4

In this next post, we will discover the men who reported & printed the progress of the White River Area.

John Henry Hand of Yellville, newspaper man,

lawyer, politician, miner and his first experience with dynamite.

There are a few personalities in Marion county that have become strongly identified with the county. Among the number is Henry Hand, newspaper man, lawyer, politician and miner. Henry Hand came from old stock of Hands, who were early settlers in Marion county.  For years he was associated with the publication of the Yellville Echo.  He is now identified with the Reporter News, a mining paper. Several years ago he was admitted to the bar and passed a creditable examination.. For the last several years he has been active in the mining industry in Marion county, producing some ore and interesting many people in the game on the outside. He has a wide knowledge of the field. He is a fluent writer and an enthusiastic booster for everything progressive. He is an astute politician. His personality is marked by a genial disposition and dry wit.

End.

Neal Brooks of Calico Rock, 

making thunder for his paper, The Calico Rock Progress, 

one of the best little sheets published in the White river country.

Neal Brooks is an optimist of the first water and his paper radiates his personality. He is editor, devil, pressman and compositor, doing all the work in the office himself.  Consequently he leads a very active life.  He writes versatile, forceful editorials, and snappy news matter. The progress has been a potent factor in the upbuilding of his town and Izard Co.  

End.  

Burton Bunch, Editor of the North Arkansas Herald,

published at Harrison, running down the scoop.

Burton Bunch is one of the best known newspaper men in North Arkansas. He is also well known in the city offices in the south and middle west, being a newspaper correspondent of more than a average ability. Burt is an animated “Bunch” of clever ideas which he expresses with a typewriter in a versatile and interesting manner.  Burton Bunch helps largely to keep Harrison and Boone county on the map. He has been a factor in the development of many things that go to make Harrison one of the most modern, beautiful and progressive little cities in the state.

End. 

The inspiration for the above cartoon came from a large 

number of subscription accounts on our books, statements 

for which we sent last month.  We certainly would appreciate a

little spend in the way of remittances.

- The Baxter Bulletin Staff

End.

Works Cited:

The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country - Neal Brooks.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.22 (June 4, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

“The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country - Burton Bunch.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.23 (June, 11, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

 “The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country - John Henry Hand.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.41 (Oct 15, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.

“The Great and the Near Great in the White River Country - Suggestion.” The Baxter Bulletin 14.44 (Nov 5, 1915) 1. Baxter County Microfilm Archive. Donald W. Reynolds Library, Mountain Home, AR. 15 Nov., 2008.