TX BIOS:  Tom Boone
   Selected and converted.American Memory, Library of Congress.
   
   Washington, 1994.
   
   Preceding element provides place and date of transcription only.
   
   This transcription intended to be 99.95% accurate.
   
   For more information about this text and this American Memory
   collection, refer to accompanying matter.
   
   U.S. Work Projects Administration, Federal Writers' Project (Folklore
   Project, Life Histories, 1936-39); Manuscript Division, Library of
   Congress.Copyright status not determined.
   
   00011
   
   [FOLK-STUFF-RANGELORE?] PHRASES & SAYINGS - DIALECT
   
   Phipps, Woody
   
   Rangelore
   
   Tarrant Co., Dist #7 [75?]
   
   Page #1
   
   FC
   
   Tom Boone, 48, was born on his father's ranch in Coryell co., Tex.
   When not working on the ranch, his father's occupation was training
   wild horses to obey men and carry a saddle. His father's love of good
   horses and his desire that his sons should his ability as a horse
   trainer led him to teach them the horse training art. While Tom and
   his brothers became good horsemen, they were never able to duplicate
   their father's feats. Tom attended school at eight, and worked as a
   cowboy when not at school. At 10, Tom was allowed to go on trail
   drives to Waco, Tex. At 21, his father established a partnership ranch
   with him. This partnership was never dissolved until 1936, when Tom
   quit to come to Ft. Worth, Where he established a grocer store in
   Castleberry, a suburb of Ft. Worth. His story:
   
   "Why, yes, I was born on the range. In fact, I like to of never got
   off of it. I was born on my dad's ranch in Coryell county, Texas, on
   April 6, 1889. Well, it was really dad's and my grand-dad's together,
   as grand-dad registered the brand in Milam county the first time it
   was ever registered. When Milam was cut up into several other
   counties, only to later be cut up more, which allowed Coryell county
   to come into being. That's all history and I guess every school kid
   knows about it. The reason I mentioned it in the first place was to
   explain where the brand was first registered, and why it wasn't
   registered in Coryell. You see, all ranches had different brands. That
   is, all the ranches in Texas, and each brand had to be registered at
   the Capitol and in it's county.
   
     NOTE: C12 - 2/11/41 - Texas
     
   "Their brand was the Double Horseshoe. Connected. You made it like
   this: . They run from 4- To 500 to 1,500 head in this iron. What made
   the big difference was in dad being such [?] 00022good hand at buying
   and selling off stock. They didn't have such a big grazing pasture,
   but dad would do like I remember he done once. We bought up all the
   corn he needed to feed 1,000 extra steers at 20¢ a bushel, then bought
   up the rest at 15¢. The reason he bought the rest was because he
   figured on a little speculation. It seemed like he had corn stored in
   every barn in the country. The next thing he done, was to buy about
   1,000 three year old steers, then fed 'em off during the winter. The
   next Spring, he had beef a-plenty to drive to Waco.
   
   "Seems like I'm telling more about dad than I am myself, but I have to
   to tell mine because we were together so much. While Dad wasn't on the
   ranch, he worked for Billy Young, who owned the 'Upside down 22
   Ranch.' The upside down 22 was his iron and made like this: . I reckon
   Billy Young run around 30,000 sheep, 1,000 head of cattle, and 1,200
   horses on his place. My dad worked the horses, and that's really where
   he got his start in the ranching business. He come to Texas and
   settled near the Young Ranch in '88. He got his first job, that was
   the only job he ever had with another ranch besides his own, with
   Young as a horse buster. The first wages he drew were the same as the
   last.
   
   "Mr. Young kept a lot of horses, and dad busted them for him. His
   wages were one out of three horses that he busted. He'd take these
   horses to his place after he'd busted them, then when he had a chance
   to sell, he'd sell and buy cattle. Grand-dad helped some by throwing
   in a little cash now and then. That was where the partnership come in.
   Grand-dad himself lived in the Navasota River Bottoms until he got too
   old to follow his trade, 00033which happened along about the time he
   got to losing money at it, he came up to live on the ranch. He had a
   real trade, and was his own boss. He freighted between the Navasota
   River Bottoms and the Rio Grande River Valley. My dad still has his
   tally book, where he put down each item he carried, the price, the
   name of his customer, and where he was located. In going over the
   tally book, I've seen articles in there you wouldn't believe. For
   instance, he hauled kerosene when it was still new. You couldn't buy
   it then unless you bought it in five gallon tins. Grand-dad bought it
   for 25¢ a gallon, hauled it to the Rio Grande, and sold it for 40¢ a
   gallon. He started hauling with oxen, but changed to horses during his
   last years at it.
   
   "Now, back to dad. He was about the best horse buster in the country
   at the time. Young wouldn't hire anybody else but dad to do his horse
   busting, because dad was so good. Another thing, dad loved horses. Mr.
   Foote, who bought the old Hobin Ranch next to ours, bought the brand,
   land, and cattle, along with the buildings and all. You know, that's
   the way they used to do. When a fellow bought a ranch, he bought
   everything. Mr. Foote came to that country a young man, without a cent
   to his name. He worked for this rancher and that, not as a top hand
   cow puncher, but a handy man, and saved all the money he could. As he
   got a little money together, he'd sent it back home and his folks'd
   buy up some Onion Soldier land scrip from the ex-soldiers in their
   neighborhood, and Mr. Foote'd settle some more land. He never did get
   a very big ranch together, but he made a lot of money in fine cattle.
   
   "For instance, he bought the first registered white face 00044bull
   ever to come to that part of the country, and maybe Texas. He run a
   lot of sheep, too. I don't know just now how many head he did run, but
   it was sizable. Later on, he married Billy Young's step-daughter. She
   inherited a little money, and run her own stock right in with Foote's.
   I don't recall her iron, but she had two-300 head of fine cattle,
   while he had four-500 head in the 'RH Connected 'iron. You make it
   like this: .
   
   "Another interesting thing about Foote that only a few other people
   know, is that he tithes every cent he ever made to a separate bank
   account. He's a member of the Presbyterian Church, but he only gives
   his money to special things. For instance, he helps keep a Mexican
   mission going down on the border, gives to several orphan homes, and
   other good things. He's the kind of a man that gives [$5.00?] to a
   special offering while in church, then comes around the next day and
   writes a check for a larger amount.
   
   "I've heard Foote say several times that dad had lost a number of
   [25,000.00?] cattle deals just by stopping off on the road to look at
   some fine horses. I believe every word of it, too, because he really
   loved horses. After he broke 'em, he'd pet 'em 'til nobody else could
   do much with them. Along about the time I was eight years old, he gave
   me a horse that he'd busted himself. I named him 'Jud.'
   
   "Jud was the finest cow horse I ever owned, and was about as good [a?]
   cutting horse as any in the country. The reason dad gave him to me was
   because I'd shown that I liked to work with the cattle, and he was a
   great believer in having a good horse to work with cattle. Of course,
   I couldn't work the herd like the top hands of that day could, but I
   did a lot of work when I wasn't 00055going to school. Since the school
   wasn't but a mile and a half away, I was able to get home early and
   work on the ranch. While I wanted to do that kind of work all the
   time, it never entered my mind not to go to school because I knew that
   dad wanted us kids to go. In fact, I was 21 before I knew that I could
   fail to do anything dad wanted me to do.
   
   "I don't recall just how long I kept Jud, but he was sacrificed to the
   Spanish American [DEL: Tracas :DEL] racas, as was every other horse.
   the Government bought every horse it could, and paid the highest
   prices. I remember right now how that the prices on horses jumped from
   $50.00 to $100.00 as soon's all the available horses were bought up.
   Right away, dad hired two extra horse busters, and bought every wild
   horse he couldn't catch in the hills, 'til he had them all bought up.
   While he was buying, he and the other men were working as long as they
   had daylight, busting horses and delivering them. Sometimes, the
   inspector would come to our house, other times he was at other ranches
   and we'd take out herd over to him. Then they had a horse that wasn't
   fully broke, and might pitch a little, they'd have me ride him 'til
   the inspector seen him because they figured that the inspector would
   take any horse a nine year old kid could ride. That was where dad
   slipped up on him a little because I could ride good then.
   
   "While the horse busting was going on, dad depended on us boys to take
   care of the cattle, except when he got a contract from the Waco beef
   contractors. When he'd have us stage a roundup, and he'd pick the sale
   critters out. What was the only time he'd get away from the horse
   work, was when we made a drive to Waco. 00066>I guess I was pretty
   close to 10 when I made my first trail drive to Waco. While I might
   forget the exact date, I'll never forget the first day because that
   was when I say my first street car, and the first time my horse had
   ever seen one.
   
   "Dad and I had parked the herd in a pastured outside town while he
   went in to meet his contractor. After awhile, I decided to go in for
   just a short while, and look things over. I wasn't so far from the
   business district, and was riding my horse across the car tracks near
   a curve, when a car came thundering around that [car?]. Well, my horse
   went to pitching just as hard as he could, and while trying to bring
   him under control, that car kept a-coming. You know, I didn't know
   they could make them things stop like they could, and there it was,
   coming at me as hard as it looked like it could come. Right when I was
   about ready to quit the horse, the motorman put on the brakes and
   stopped a few feet away. The horse then broke and run. There were a
   bunch of men on the car, and as we went away, I could hear them
   laughing. I got the horse stopped about a half a mile from where the
   herd was parked, so I went on over and waited for dad.
   
   "My next trail drive turned out to be an exciting one for me. Dad
   parked the herd in the same place, then went on in. This happened
   Saturday evening, and we were going to have to lay over 'til Monday.
   About an hour after dad went in, here come three girls on a little old
   mule. They come on out to the herd, then come over to me. What a fit
   them girls gave me. They hugged me, kissed me, and just gave me a
   devil of a time 'til I got to where I could hit their mule with my
   hat. They chased him, caught him, then rode off toward town, laughing
   as hard as they could. 00077"When dad came back from town, I never
   told him what had happened. He told me to come on and go with him
   because he'd made arrangements for our room in town. Right on the
   outskirts, we turned into a place. We put our horses up in the stable,
   then started toward the house. Do you know, one of them darn girls was
   there, and the other two, who were out of sight, had made plans to
   spend the night there. Well, I hung back, and dad told me to come on.
   When he seen me keep a-hanging back, he asked me what the trouble was.
   When I told him, he gave me three half dollars, and told me to offer
   them money for kisses. Well, I done that as soon's I got a chance, and
   do you know, it worked like a charm. I believe the gals hated me after
   that, because I offered them money. Boy, I'd hate to offer one money
   now. She'd sure be hard to get rid of, wouldn't she[?] But that was
   the way the women were of old.
   
   "Along about the time the railroads got to going good, and the market
   here in Forth Worth got to going good, we took another herd to Waco.
   The way dad got his contracts, the contractors'd send him a letter,
   telling him how many head they wanted, and at what price. Well, if man
   got into Waco at a time when the market was glutted with beef, he
   didn't get such a good price. Dad never had much trouble like that
   because he wouldn't make a drive unless he figured he could get rid of
   his stuff reasonable anyway. This time though, the market was glutted.
   
   "On the way down, a man met the herd with one of the finest cows we'd
   ever seen then, and wanted to sell it because he needed the money. Dad
   bought it at a good price, figuring on selling it as soon's he reached
   Waco. Well, the contractor told dad that he had all the beef he
   wanted, but he'd buy all the beef 00088that came up to the contract.
   We drove the herd up and into one pen, and as we'd cut out a critter
   and drive it up to the gate, he'd either wave it into the pen where
   he'd keep the beef, or, he'd wave it outside the gate where we'd drive
   them back home. Well, I could tell by the way dad was acting, that he
   didn't like the way things were going, but we went ahead. The man cut
   and cut, and he really turned down some fine cattle. He must have had
   all he intended to buy when we came to the cow dad bought, because he
   turned her down. Dad says, 'What're you turning that one down for?'
   
   "The contractor answered, 'Oh, just on general principles.,'
   
   "After the last cow had been cut out, dad gave us boys the order to
   take the cattle out of that pen and put them with the rest of the
   herd. We didn't hesitate but jumped right to work. The contractor
   says, 'What're you doing that for?'
   
   "Dad says, 'Oh, just on general principles.' From that time on, we
   never sold any beef we didn't send right into Fort Worth to the stock
   yards. or somewhere else.
   
   "I'd like to have you meet my dad. He sure was one more bronc buster
   in his day, and he can still ride today. Of course, he couldn't ride
   the outlaws he once did, but you couldn't tell him that. We used to
   say that anything he had to hold onto to ride, he couldn't ride
   a-tall. He could sure ride 'em slick.
   
   "Now, about the trick riding, we didn't have it down to such a fine
   hair as they do today in the rodeos. I believe we had worse [DEL:
   horse :DEL] horses, alright, but the rodeo hands of today really have
   the trick riding down right. If the old time cow hands knew what they
   do today, they'd have rode much better because they were just
   00099better cow hands. When their hats blew off, they'd make a turn,
   ride back and get it off the ground without ever stooping, and be on
   their way. Today, when a rodeo hand does that, he does it in such a
   way that it looks like he was the kingpin rider of all time.
   
   "Another thing. These modern saddles. You can put a fortune in them
   now, but when I was a kid, they didn't have that down so good either.
   My first saddle, dad made me earn it working for it. I picked cotton
   for one of his neighbors, and just about the time when I was supposed
   to have made enough money to pay for that saddle, he was in Waco in
   business. He bought the saddle, and had it sent out to me. It was
   delivered on the evening I got my $8.00, which was just the price of
   the saddle, and I paid for it. I thought that saddle was the prettiest
   in the world.
   
   "The other drives I went on, were to places like the drive we made to
   Morgan. We HAD A hard time on that trip with stomps. We were taking
   325 head of four year old steers to Morgan, and when we got to old man
   Park's stock farm, we parked them in a big pasture which was about
   three miles from his house, and had a big round hill right in the
   middle of it. We went in, ate, sat around and talked, then went to
   bed. Along in the early morning hours about three, a roar woke me up.
   When I got up, dad was already dressing. He said it was down in that
   pasture, and we hurried on out the stable, saddled our horses, and
   rode out.
   
   "Sure enough, they were stampeding, and we met the herd just right to
   turn 'em around that hill. Well, sir, you never had a handier thing in
   your life than that hill was that time. They just milled around the
   hill 'til they got tired and stopped. 001010"The weather had been
   awful dry about this time, and that made the herd skittish to start
   with. When, after any stomp, the herd'll naturally be skittish so we
   were on our toes for another stomp. When we got about two miles from
   the Bosque, the herd scented the water and broke for it. They ran that
   two miles as hard as they could run, then instead of waiting and going
   down the trial, they jumped an eight foot bank. Of course, a lot of
   them were hurt, and I think we lost about 20 of them.
   
   "After we got that snarl straightened out, we got started again the
   next morning. A few miles out from Morgan, we had to cross a train
   track, and when we had about [10?] percent of the herd over, here come
   a passenger train. The herd stampeded toward morgan, and when the got
   to the city limits, divided up into small bunches in order to go down
   the streets. That broke the stomp when they got separated. We rounded
   the herd up again on the other side of town, and Sam Wilson, who'd
   ordered the steers, took it over.
   
   "Well, we'd been over a day and a night without food by the time we
   got back to meridian. While that was a part of a cow poke's job, we
   were still hungry as wolves. We stopped in a boarding house, one of
   those eat as long as you want to, you know, and started into eating.
   Along after we'd been eating a while, the waiter passed the cake. Old
   Sam Griggsby reared back and said, 'My God, man! We wont be ready for
   cake for an hour yet!', and we really weren't. We sure didn't do
   anything but break even when we paid him double for the meal.
   
   "Old Sam was a pretty good rider, but about the best around besides
   dad was a nearby rancher by the name of Wallace. He run around 5-600
   head in the '[RO?] iron. You make the brand like this:

************************************************************************
USGENWEB ARCHIVES NOTICE:  These electronic pages may NOT be reproduced 
in any format for profit or presentation by any other organization or
persons.  Persons or organizations desiring to use this material, must
obtain the written consent of the contributor, or the legal representative
of the submitter, and contact the listed USGenWeb archivist with proof of
this consent. The submitter has given permission to the USGenWeb Archives
to store the file permanently for free access.

http://www.usgwarchives.net/

Thanks to the Library of Congress
http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/wpaintro/txcat.html
***********************************************************************