CLARK CO, AR - Mrs. M. J. Cannon - WPA Life History

by Phipps, [Woody?] 

[Tarrant?] Co., [Dist.?] 7 [90?] 

[Mrs. M.J. Cannon?], 73, was born in Arkadelphia, Ark., on July, 30,
1864. Her father moved the family to Jewell, Eastland Co., Tex., on
Sept, 15, 1864, where he established a 160 acre stock farm. She married
M.F. Cannon when 15 1/2 Yrs. old, and they moved to Crosby Co.,
[Tex.?], where they established a 220 acre stock farm. They reared two
boys who developed into cowboys, and a girl who married J.J. Wallace,
who's father operated a ranch at Cisco, Tex. Her husband died in Slaton
Texas, in 1918, and she now resides at the Masonic Home for the aged
located 12 [Mi.?] [?] of Ft. Worth, Tex. Her story: 

"Why, yes, I was raised in West Texas when it [was?] considered the
sure enough wild and wooly [West?]. If I could [remember?] all the
things that happened to me, You'd be able to write a big book on it
all. [As?] it is though, my memory sort of fails me right when I want
it to work but I'll tell you all I can recall. The most of what I tell
you will be about the good times we had because that's about all I ever
thought about when I was growing up and while I was young. 

"First, I was born on July the 30th, 1864, in Arkadelphia, Arkansas.
Just as soon's I was able to be carried good and my ma was able to take
a long trip, my dad set out for Texas on September the 15, 1864. Dad's
name was [Eldridge?] Nix and he settled on what was known as the 'Nix
Place'. It was right outside Jewell Texas, in Eastland county, and had
about 100 acres in it. I suppose you'd call the place a stock farm
because he farmed on a small scale but he really worked cattle. That
was his aim, to work up a cattle ranch. I don't recall whether he had a
brand or not. I suppose he did have but I didn't pay any [attention?]
to that. 

Now, the reason I didn't pay any attention to anything in the way of
business was because I was pure-de [spoilt?] when I was a kid. [C12 -
2/7/41- Texas?] 

My mother died right after we got to Jewell, and my two sisters had the
raising of me and all the household work too. They'd let me run loose
after I got big enough to get away from the leash. You see, while I was
too small to be depended on not to run off, they'd made a sort of
harness that went around my shoulders and kept me tied to a wooden
stake while they were in the dugout working. 

"[When?] we first came to that country, there were no houses and
everybody lived in dugouts that were made by digging a square hole
about 10 by 10, then about seven feet deep and running a long pole
across the middle, about two feet higher than the ground level, then
slanting the tarpaulin down so to let the water run off when it rained.


"After we'd been there for about 18 months, dad had got together enough
logs to have a house raising. Now, that's where the fun starts. I was
too young to have any fun at this one but you can bet I didn't miss
many of them after I got big enough to dance and talk up for myself.
Everytime they'd have a house raising after that, I'd be there. You
see, the women folks would cook enough stuff to last a good sized crowd
of men for a couple of days, then they'd tell everybody that there was
to be a house raising at so and so's place at so and so a time.
Everybody knew they'd have a little dancing and eating thrown in with
the work connected with raising the house, or rather, building the
house so they'd be on hand to help. Sometimes there'd be as many as 50
men there with their families and they'd make short work of putting up
the house. They figured the quicker they got the house up, the quicker
they'd get to dance, drink, and eat. [C12 - Texas?] 

I didn't care much for a drunk man because he just thought he could
dance. He couldn't really dance as well then as he could when he was
sober. There were lots of them that could sure enough dance, though. 

"I don't really recall just when I did learn to dance because the
cowhands taught me to jig when I was really small. I was dancing with
men when I was going to school. I went to school in Jewell. Nothing
much happened to me when I was going to school but let me tell you what
happened to me once. Dad gave me a little old Indian pony to ride to
and from school and I could really ride him. He was about the best pony
I'd seen around those parts and he'd kick up on a frosty morning but
I'd stay with him. He got in the habit of getting loose from the rail
when I'd tie him up at the school. No matter how tight I'd tie him;
he'd always get loose. 

"One day, he'd gotten loose and had strayed farther away than usual. By
the time I'd found him, it was getting dark. I don't guess I was over
100 feet from him when I found him but there were six old Texas
Longhorn steers that found me at the same time. They's run at me,
snort, then run back. [Was?] I worried? I'll say I was, but I kept
behind trees and circling until I had the pony between me and the
steers. I',d forgot my rope and it was still tied to the rail so I took
my bonnet and put it around his neck, then led him back to the rail. 

Since I always had to have somebody help me onto the pony and they were
all gone, I didn't know how to get on him. I looked around for a stump
but I couldn't see any and it was getting darker all the time. There
was an old graveyard by the school and there were tombstones in it that
I could stand on to got on him so I did it that way. You talk about
scared. I was one scared kid until I got on his back, then I made
[him?] understand that speed was what I wanted. [?] were going [?] to
nothing when I met my dad coming after me. He'd got worried about me
and was coming to see what was the trouble. The only thing I liked
about going to school was the spelling bees they'd have. [We'd?] have
lots of fun then. 

Now, back to the dances. The majority of them were square dances. After
I'd got married and was a little older, I saw other kinds but I stuck
to the good old square dancing. Been so long since I was to one of them
that I don't recall the words they used in calling them but a good
caller always tried to make up new ones so you might say they had no
set form of calling. 

I me my husband at one of these dances and we got married when I'd only
met him about five times. You see, if you'd go a long ways, you could
go to a dance about once a month but dad only took us about once every
quarter so I really knew [M.F.?] over a year before we got married. 

"Others that I recall metting were, [Dink?] [Logan?], a good rider with
a pretty horse but I don't know whether I ever heard of his ability as
a cowboy. I rated them according to how good they danced and Dink could
dance real good. [?] met at all the dances. 

"Another that I recall was Dan Clawson. Old Dan couldn't dance but he
could trot to beat the band. [?], [Jim?] Thornton, he [?] a good
dancer, and Steve and Temple Ellis. Let me [tell?] you one on
[Temple?]. 

"One time, he and his dad were going to the brakes after wood. They
were just using the running gears, you know, no wagon bed, and when
they got on top of a pretty steep hill, his dad told him to get some
ropes and tie the wheels to the gears so they wouldn't [roll?] and that
way, the wagon wouldn't run over the team. Temple says, 'Alright dad'.
He stood on the tire and held the wheel to keep it from turning, then
when they got half way down, he stepped off and let the wheels go.
Well, the wagon like to have run over the hosses and was going like a
prairie fire when they got to the bottom of the hill but Temple's dad
handled them like a veteran and didn't have no trouble. Temple had to
run real hard to catch up but when the [wagon?] was slowed down at the
bottom, he caught up. His dad said, 'What happened, Temple? Did the
ropes break?' 

"Temple said, 'No, I just wanted to see if you could ride it as fast as
it would go'. 

"Now, that was kind of a rough joke but that's the way the cowboys
joked. They lived a rough life end joked as rough [as?] you ever heard.
Why, [?] tender foot that lit on a ranch would almost get killed before
he got broke in to ranch life. The boys would lead him to one of their
wildest horses and tell him it was tame, then let him get on the horse.
The usual trick was to have the horse already saddled and ready to go
before the poor fellow ever saw it. 

"He'd come out from the chuck wagon or where ever he was hired, and all
he'd see was [?] horse already saddled and he'd been told they'd give
him a gentle one before he tried the rough ones and he'd just mount it
without ever a suspicion anything was up. The first time he knew
otherwise was after he getting the stormiest ride he'd ever had in his
young life. The horse usually threw them after the first jump and the
boys would be on hand to rescue him from anything else happening to
him. 

"When I married [?] Cannon, I was about 15 and a half years old. Cannon
was a real men and wasn't afraid of old Nick himself so he put it up to
me like this. He said, 'Now, we can live on your dad's place and take
what he gives us, or we can strike out and build ourselves a place of
our own if you've got the guts to stay with me.' 

Well, I'd lived a life of ease. That is, my sisters took all the bumps
and nothing ever happened around the home place so I thought that in
getting married, I would have a home of my own, be my own boss, get up
when I wanted to (I was a heavy sleeper and was hard to wake up), and
just have things the way I wanted so I jumped at the chance of getting
off that way. 

"To start with, M.F. had been keeping his eyes on me and had been
saving his money right along so he was in a better position to get
married than anybody else, including myself because I didn't even know
very well how to cook. Dad gave us two teams of horses, and a brand new
Studebaker wagon to carry our stuff in. 

"The last I ever saw of my folks was after they threw a big dance as a
farewell party for us, then we lit out. I wont ever be able to forget
that trip. When we started out, we had good weather but we hadn't been
long on the trail 'til a Blue Norther struck us. The second night out
on the trail, we had to camp right out on the open prairie but we
[weren't?] worried because we had good stock and the best wagon money
could buy in those days. 

"We went to bed that night and I went right off to sleep just like I
always did when I was at home. I didn't know a thing 'til I woke up the
next morning and M.F. told me what had happened. I'd slept through the
worst wind storm that he'd ever seen and one that the old timers that
came out in the [60's?] couldn't even beat. M.F. [said?] that the wind
almost blew the wagon over so he got out and dug holes in front of each
hole, then rolled the wagon forward and off into the holes. This way,
the wagon would be harder to turn over or move any way. I'd slept all
through this and woke up the next morning after the wind had gone down
and everything was calm and [peaceful?]. 

"About the third day on the trip, the wheels went to squeaking
something awful and I was getting so disappointed. I thought we had
been cheated on our pretty wagon with the pretty yellow wheels and red
and green [trimming?] but I didn't say anything to M.F. about it. I
just kept quiet. [When?] we got to a water hole, he watered the stock,
then got a bucket and poured water on the wheels. He didn't seem
satisfied with that so he dug some more holes and rolled the wagon off
into them, then filled the holes with water. [?] the wagon stood in the
water, he hunted for a pole and a block. With this, he used leverage,
then had me to turn the wheels so another part would be in the water.
He did this unti he had the entire wheel all wet and [muddy?]. The next
[morning?] after we started out, he explained that the wheels had
gotten dry and drawn up, and that the water would swell the wheels back
out to where they wouldn't squeak any more. 

"Well, it seemed like years before we got to that section of [Texas?]
known as, '[The Lano Estacado'?], or the staked plains. [?] settled in
Crosby county on a 220 acre tract and M.F. branded his 60 head of
cattle with the [MFC?] brand. 

"I worked with the herd just like a man. Of course, I didn't ride a
horse but I 'tended the cows that came fresh. I never will forgot one
thing that happened to me while [?] was hunting one old cow's calf. You
see, they'd hide their calves off where they figured you'd never find
them which was dangerous because they never got the right treatment and
lots of them would die [Well?], I'd followed this old cow around for
four days but she'd been giving me the slip. I finally let her get out
of sight, then [followed?] her tracks through the sand. Now, there were
still a few dangerous outlaws and rustlers in that country and I'd made
a mountain out of a mole hill to where I looked for one to pop out
anywhere. This condition [stayed?] in the back of my head all the time
but I got my mind set on that old cow's tracks and was going right
along when I went through some bushes and bumped right into her. She
had her calf and was suckling it at the time but I thought an outlaw
had me so I tore out, the cow and calf went in different directions and
we all had a good scare. She didn't find her calf 'til 'way the next
day because I heard her bawling 'til she found her calf. 

"After we'd been on the place several years, we quit going to Crosbyton
for rations and went to Amarillo twice a year for our grub. Contrary to
the general notion, we didn't buy much stuff in barrels because a wagon
would shake it to pieces. Barrels wasn't so good in those days either
because they had wood ties instead of iron like they do nowadays.
[Well?], we'd get about a dozen 100 pound sacks of flour, 100 pound
sack of coffee, half a barrel of syrup, a barrel of sugar, six sides of
bacon, four boxes of dried fruit, and a 100 pound sack of dried beans.
[We?] had plenty of wild meat and grew our beef and farmed enough
garden stuff to care for us and some other places too, so you see, we
had plenty to eat any time we wanted it. 

[We'd?] go to Crosbyton for the dances though. It was about 15 to 2O
miles there and M.F. would pick up all the women on the way that wanted
to go. They'd hold a barbecue and dance for two days and nights there
besides having the best fiddler I ever heard. His name was 'Fiddler
Bill', and he could just make up tunes that beat anything these long
haired guys that you pay to hear. Just a natural born fiddler. There
were a good many of the cow punchers that could wield a [mean?] bow but
they learnt it from somebody else. There were guitar players too, that
could play right well. I don't recall any special names of places they
played. I don't think most of them had a name. Of course, they played
'Arkansaw Traveler', 'Old Dan'l Turkey'. 'Turkey in de Straw', and
other popular pieces along with the ones they made up. 

"Now, about the cattle roundups and such, I went to several of the Fall
roundups before M.F. quit and went to carpentering. I met [Jim?]
[Williams?], who owned the 'SR' Ranch and throwed a barbecue and a
dance right after a roundup one year. It was held in Hank Smith's rock
house in Blanco Canyon and lasted about three days and nights. 

"I remember when I went there, I saw thousands of cattle in the canyon.
A little while after I got to the ranch house, I happened to be looking
out the window and saw a wagon load of girls coming up the road. Now,
they had to [pass?] over a ditch that had some goat heads in it. You
see, Hank had barbecued goats and throwed the heads into this ditch.
Well, they failed to see this ditch and when the wagon jolted over it,
three of them fell over backwards into the ditch. 

"The first thing they saw when they sat up was these bloody heads
sticking straight up out of the ground. Of all the screaming that come
off, a 100 catamounts couldn't make that much noise. One of the boys
had fixed the heads in that way, hoping to pull off a stunt about like
that. 

"I met another rancher there that run some cattle on about one section
of land. His name was Jim [?] and he run the 'SD' Ranch. I recall
another foreigner I met there but I can't recall his name. He run the
'Z Bar L'. You make the brand like this, 'Z-L'. Then, there was J.J.
Wallace who owned and operated the 'Triangle J' with about 100 head.
You make his brand like this, 

I also met several of the Swenson Ranch foremen but I don't recall
their names. It was one of the big ranches owned by big Easterners who
lived in New York. They'd write the range boss to spare no expense to
show the boys a good time after the roundup. [?] all get together and
it would [last?] two or three days. 

'Well, I'm about to run out of soap. I forgot to say though, that my
daughter married J.J. [Wallace's?] boy [and?] lived on the place which
was finally located North of Cisco. 

"One other thing is the men M.F. usually played with at the dances. One
was old Thomp',Miller, he played the violin, and Al Patterson, who also
played the violin while my husband picked the banjo. M.F. played for
the dances and goings on 'til he died with the Flu in Slaton Texas, in
[1918?]. 


Credit: Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, WPA Federal Writers' Project 
Collection.

Clark

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