TX BIOS:  Walter R. Morrison
   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
   
   Gauthier, Sheldon F.
   
   Rangelore
   
   Tarrant Co., Dist. 7
   
   Page #1
   
   FEC [6?]
   
   Walter R. Morrison, 78, 110 1/2 E. 2nd. St., Ft. Worth, Tex., was born
   May 7, 1859, in [Mineola?], Wood Co., Tex. Walter's father operated a
   sawmill and owned several saddle horses. Walter was taught to ride as
   soon as he was able to sit on a horse. He was a good horsemen by 14,
   and assisted in a cattle drive from E. Texas to the John Collins ranch
   in Parker Co., Tex., where he was employed as a cowhand. His story:
   
   "My age is 78, and I was born at [Mineole?], in [Good?] County, Texas,
   on the seventh day of May, 1859. My father owned a sawmill in
   [Mineole?] and kept several saddle hosses, so when one of the family
   wanted to drag off some place, they usedaa hoss. They forced me to
   keep out of the way around the sawmill because there was nothing a
   young kid could do, so I spent a lot of time riding while I was not in
   school.
   
   "Father put me straddle a hoss when I was not old enough to sit up so
   when I was old enough to be trusted off alone, I was able to handle a
   hoss. The thing that I hankered for as a kid, was to be a cowhand.
   Father bought me a lariat for my Christmas present when I was 10 years
   old. I began to swing the loop over everything I could find with that
   looper. Still objects at first, then moving objects. When I was 14
   years old, I could smear moving objects going and coming.
   
   "John Collins hands were driving a herd of cattle out of East Texas
   when I was 14 years old. They secured a larger herd than John
   calculate on and needed some extra help. I fretted my father until he
   allowed that I could join the outfit for the drive. I reckoned that I
   would just [mak?] the drive to Collin's ranch in Parker County and
   then return but I made such a good hand that when the drive was over,
   John Collins said, 'Kid, if you want to join this outfit, I can use
   you'.
   
     NOTE: C.12 - 2/11/41 - Texas
     
   00022I jumped at the chance and stayed there four years.
   
   "Collins only ran around 6,000 head on his Parker County range and
   employed 10 waddies besides his sons, Tom and Bob. His large ranch was
   in Board County, where there were 35 waddies with the outfit. The
   Parker County outfit was located 20 miles West of Fort Worth, and on
   the Parker and Tarrant County lines.
   
   I reckoned I was a top rider when I first joined the outfit but I soon
   learned that I had something to learn about keeping my saddle warm. I
   was calculating a hoss by those father had in his stable, and reckoned
   pitching according to the rearing and sheering our horses pulled when
   they felt pert. About the second day at the 'JC' outfit, 'JC' was the
   Collins brand, his son Tom, a little older then I, said to me, 'Have
   you rode any pitching hosses?' Of course, I thought I had. I swelled
   up like a pigeon and told him that I had rode every hoss that father
   had brought on our place.
   
   "He says, 'Then I don't have to pick a gentle for you to ride?'
   
   "Shucks no', I answered, 'I am no greener on a hoss'. I had been there
   two days and spent a week on the drive, and reckoned that I was a
   rawhide.
   
   "The next day, Tom pointed out a yeller hoss and said, 'Use that
   critter today. I'll help you put the tree on him. He is a trifle
   skittish with strangers and may skip a little but is a good saddle'.
   We put the tree on him. I mounted and hit the tree, then 00033I went
   into space for a spell. When I hit, it was the earth I hit.
   
   "Tom was standing there, giving me the laugh. 'I thought you could
   ride!', he shot at me.
   
   "'I can but I was caught off my guard', I said. 'I can ride that
   critter.'
   
   "'I reckon you were because that hoss just makes a couple skips to get
   the kinks out of his fins, then is off. All the hands like to ride
   him', he said, without a smile.
   
   "'I'll ride him now. I know what to expect', I, tells him. IImounted
   that critter again with my conk set to stay with the animal. It pronto
   showed me something about pitching I didn't know. That hoss was a pig
   pen builder, meaning that it had no regular way to go but operated
   according to notions, and they were changeable. Well, I grabbed
   leather pronto but that did me no good. I had a death grip on the nub
   and at the first elevation, my hands were the only part of me that was
   touching leather and when I come down, the hoss was not there to catch
   me. I passed it on the way to the ground, still with a grip on the nub
   but I was traveling so fast the speed broke the hold. I flattened out
   like a saddle blanket.
   
   "The bull of the [DEL: [?] :DEL] ranch was standing by me as I pulled
   myself together. He was John Collins and he said, 'Kid, you have given
   the boys enough opera for this time. Don't try that critter again for
   a spell'. I was given another critter and went to work. I did some
   practicing on skipping hosses, as Tom called them. I soon caught the
   knack and before the month was over, I rode the yeller hoss. 00044"We
   had no man belly cheater on the 'JC'. Mrs. Collins did the cooking
   with the help of colored house man. The 'JC' was what the waddies
   classed as ['A?] one hoss outfit'. If we worked away for a day or so,
   we carried the chuck on a pack hoss, and that was called 'A grease pot
   outfit'. We then did our own cooking, which was nothing to brag about.
   We would cook coffee, broil steak over a camp fire, cook beans, and
   bake biscuits. Sinkers is a good name for the biscuits.
   
   "Three of us waddies had to night ride. We would spell each other
   every night. Three of us would ride the fore part of the night, and
   three the latter part. All hands would be on the ride when a bad storm
   or a Norther hit.
   
   "There was only one night during the four years I was with the 'JC'
   outfit that we had the critters get away. The critters on that range
   were not as wild and skittish as some. As a rule, a small herd is not
   so prone to stomp. This night was late in the Spring, and the storm
   hit about midnight. I was riding the fore-part of the night and I knew
   that a buster was on the way a couple of hours before it hit. My hoss
   had sensed it, and was quivering. The cattle had raised and were
   milling. They had sensed the coming buster and wanted to get some
   place for a shelter.
   
   "I rode into the ranch and raised all the hands. We all began to
   circle the critters and sing. That is, them that could sing did, and
   the others tried. It did not sound like grand opera but it drew the
   critter's attention and held them at first. All the choir in the state
   of Texas could not hold them critters when the storm hit. Fact is, the
   thunder, rain, and wind, made such 00055noise that it [di ned?] out
   everything else. Of course, it was the atmosphere that was our biggest
   trouble. It looked like a black cat except when sky-fire turned on a
   flush, and that was a-plenty. Those critters would break and run. At
   first, we could turn the animals but they would break anew, and each
   time would be more stubborn.
   
   "That country is rolling and full of brush in spots, which makes night
   riding hard, especially in a storm. We hit the hills, hollows, and
   brush at top speed that night, trying to turn those critters and got
   the herd to milling. We could hear the cattle because of the stomping
   of their feet and bumping of their horns but could not see where they
   were except when the sky fire would flash some light. Then we could
   see the herd, also see the fire play hop-skip-jump, on the tips of the
   critter's horns. It was my first time to see such no that, and it had
   me plumb loco.
   
   "A waddy in called upon to do his best riding at times like that. Such
   a shape up is why 'tis said that, 'A cowhand was a man with sand in
   his gizzard and a hoss'. When daylight came on and we could take a
   reckoning of the mess, we found that 1,000 critters were scattered
   over the country and one waddy was gone. Hub Jones was missing. His
   [ho?] was at the pen, minus it's rider.
   
   "We all hit the drag to hunt the strays and two of us set out to find
   Hub. They found him, five miles away and dragging for camp on hoof
   with a broken collar bone. We said that his conk quit working and did
   not know what happened. When his conk came back to normal, he was
   laying in a clump of briars. [e?] were a week getting the strays back.
   00066"My next experience which had my gizzard grinding was one where
   Mrs. John Collins showed up as a women with sand equal to a he-man.
   Bob Collins and I were on the range looking for some strays when
   suddenly, we saw about 35 mounted Indians making for us. We headed our
   hosses towards the ranch pronto, and they kept coming. They never got
   close enough to brand either of us. It was a pretty close race for
   about five miles with the Indians throwing a few shots at us. They
   were all short except one that stung my hoss on the flank, causing him
   to turn on more steam.
   
   "The Indians knew that all the hands [we e?] off the ranch and at
   different points on the range. I reckon that they had given the place
   an eyeing because they followed us to the shed, then stayed off at a
   distance. They begansto circle the shed and first one, then the other
   would dash in and pour lead at the shed. A few had rifles and could
   place lead in the shed and stay out of range of our six-guns.
   
   Mrs. Collins was in the house. The house was built of stone and had
   ports at different spots around the house. John always kept several
   rifles in the house, and it was not long until that artillery was in
   action. The first shots hit the mark and two red skins hit the ground.
   With the third shot, she winged one and the fourth shot put him in the
   class of good Indians. By that time, the rest pulled out of range,
   stopping about 300 yards from the house and going into conference.
   
   "We two boys broke for the house and got hold of a rifle. We then
   waited for the skunks. We did not have [l ng?] to wait. They circled
   to the front of the house, and then slowly worked into the
   00077building. Bob and I wanted to shoot as soon as they came into
   range but Mrs. Collins would not have any of it. She said, 'You boys
   harken to me or I'll box your ears. Those skunks are intending to
   storm the house, break the door down, and overpower us. We will wait
   until they are close so we can't miss a shot. I'll give the order when
   to shoot. Bob, you take the first one, Walt, you take the next, and
   I'll take the furtherest. We will keep shouting that way and will not
   waste any shots.' The Indians kept coming up and finally, she said,
   Shoot!'
   
   "We cut loose and three fell. They then rushed and three more fell
   before they could reach the porch, and three more fell at the porch.
   Then they turned and ran for their hosses. They high-tailed it across
   the range.
   
   "[?] cowhand came through, looking for McLean's strays. He heard the
   shooting and saw at a glance what it was. He dragged it for Fort Worth
   pronto, and reported the fight to Captian King. At the head of a
   number of rangers, King came out and with a number of cowhands, took
   after the red skins. did not go with the trailers because Mrs. Collins
   insisted that I and her sons stay to help clear up the mess. We
   dragged the Indians off to a sink hole and threw them in. Walt McLean
   told us that they got a few at the [est?] Fork of the Trinity River.
   
   "I understand that the old Collin's stone house still stands. it was
   standing in 1910. I made a trip at that time through that section and
   stopped at the old house to look through the port that I did my
   shooting at them Indians.
   
   "I quit the Collins outfit in [18 7], and joined the Foredice
   00088outfit. They were located six miles South of [?] springs, where
   the present town of Big Springs gets their water supply. [t?] the time
   the outfit had their quarters there, the spring had a 10 inch flow of
   water. The Foredice outfit brand was the picture of four dice. The
   outfit ran [aro nd?] 15,000 head. The reason I went there was because
   my wages were "30.00 a month, which was 5.0 more than Collins paid me.
   
   "It was six months after I joined the outfit that I met up with my
   Indian friends again. One day, there were about 20 of us waddies
   cutting out calves for branding. Dick Thompson was the
   cock-a-doodle-do, and he ordered me to the ranch quarters with a note
   to the ram rod. I had dragged two miles when [?] spied 14 red skins
   about the time they spied me. They took after me pronto, and I turned
   back to where the waddies were. [s?] it happened, there was a patch of
   brush between the waddies and me. I traveled around the edge of the
   brush, keeping just out of the shooting range. I was on Nigger Baby,
   one of the best hosses a man ever straddled so I was not bothering my
   conk about them catching me. I was after coaxing them Indians back to
   where the waddies were. Well, I did that. They follered me around that
   brush and into that bunch of waddies before they got wised up to the
   shape up.
   
   "After they finished having their fun, the waddies thanked me for the
   good time I provided. When them waddies turned loose and surrounded
   the red skins, it was not lung until there were 14 good Indians.
   
   The best rider I have ever seen, worked on the Foredice outfit. That
   was Dick Thompson. Time and again, I have watched 00099that man bust a
   wild critter and never bother about putting a bridle or a saddle on
   the critter. He would throw a loop on a wild critter in the herd, and
   then leave his mount holding a taut line. Dick would go down that line
   'til he reachead the critter, grab it by the mane, release the loop,
   then, by holding onto the mane, swing on the critter's back. There he
   would stay until the critter had pitched it'self down, and then ride
   the hoss into the ranch pen.
   
   "The best hoss I ever rode was Nigger Baby. The one I spoke of a
   moment ago. I named him Nigger baby because he was so black. He was a
   wild cuss and it took me eight months to get him working good, but
   when he was shaped up, he was a great saddle. I never did get him to
   keep from pitching once in awhile. He seemed to take pleasure out of
   pitching and did it for fun but never did so while I was in a pocket.
   It was always when we were ambling along. He would suddenly elevate a
   few times, shake his head, switch his tail, and then settle down to
   business.
   
   "That animal finally got to where he would come to me as far as he
   could hear me call. The hoss would raise his head, listen for a
   second, then come a-running. The closer he got, the better he seemed
   to like it. When he got so close, he would neigh. He learned to know
   the cow work as a man and could work alone. He was the most knowing
   and willing hoss I ever rode. He w uld catch on to what was wanted in
   just one or two tries. When it comes to running, he was fast and could
   run all day.
   
   "[?] was pert as a hoss buster and a little cocky about it. Foredice
   had a blue hoss. That is, they called it blue. He injured one man and
   killed another. I calculated that I could ride it and 001010told the
   big gun I could do it. He advised against it but I went to wrangle the
   beast. That critter had all the tricks in pitching all rolled into
   one, was fast as lightning, and a fighter to boot. I got a loop on
   him, saddled and mounted him. He put me into a spill and before I
   could get out of his way, he made for me. He was standing on his hind
   legs and cutting own at me with his fore feet when the big gun, who
   was standing by, hollered, 'Lead that animal! Lead that beast!' I did
   not need to be told to use my gun. I was fixing to lead him and gave
   him a 45 ball betwixt the eyes to save myself.
   
   "After I quit the Foredice outfit, I dragged over to the 'JST' outfit,
   [l cated?] in Taylor County. The outfit was owned by J.S. Taylor, and
   his brand was made like this, . I run into another hoss on the 'JST'
   that come next to Nigger Baby. He was a yeller stallion with a brown
   strip down his back, a brown mane and tail. A pretty fellow but wild
   and smart. He was so smart that he had beat the loop. There was a
   counterpart of him on the range that had sent a Tex' to the Eternal
   Range while the fellow was trying to bust him. The bug gun had let the
   two houses alone, wanting to save them for breeding purposes.
   
   "One day, I was looking for a hoss to bust and a herd was found in a
   clump of bushes located in a sharp bend of the creek. The hosses were
   at the further part of the bend where the bank was sheer. There was
   only one way for those critters to get away, and that was for them to
   pass me unless they made a 20 foot jump down that bank. The yeller
   critter was in that bunch and I said to myself, 'Your my meat'.
   001111"The critters made a break to pass by me. [s?] they did, I
   smeared the yeller baby. He was traveling fast and when he hit the end
   of the rope, my mount was well set and that yeller lad hit the ground
   hard. He stayed down long enough for me to put my bandana over his
   eyes for a blind. I also snubbed the hoss. When he got to his feet, I
   put the tree on him and turned him loose.
   
   "There was an hour of steady pitching. He was pitched down at the end
   of that time and I rode him into the pen. The big gun came to look at
   the hoss and thought it was the one with a notch in it's tail. He
   insisted that I leave the hoss alone, saying, 'That hoss has killed
   one man and you'll be the next if you don't leave it alone'. I went
   against his request and made one of the best workers on the outfit.
   
   "Red Smith was with the 'JST at the time I was there. I calculate that
   men to be the best shot I ever saw draw a gun. I have seen him hit a
   running rabbit at 90 yards with a 38 pistol, and if he ever missed, no
   one seen him do it. He plugged an Indian at 150 yards with a 38 gun. I
   had plumb missed the shot.
   
   "A bunch of Indians had stole 15 head of cattle from the 'JST', and we
   trailed them to a creek where we saw them on the other bank, I fired
   and missed, Red threw down on them and made a good Indian out of one,
   then and there. The boys went on and got the cattle and some of the
   other Indians.
   
   "I dragged over to the 'BFL' outfit in [?] Pinto County from the
   'JST'. It was a hoss outfit and owned by Red Collins when I joined.
   They changed it over to cows the year I was there. I met up with
   several gangs of rustlers during my stay on the [?]. 001212[?]
   
   Three rustlers were naturalized about 300 yards above where the Fort
   Worth Water Works is now located on the Clear Fork of the Trinity.
   They were caught with a bunch of BFL critters. That happened in 1876,
   or 77. The sheriff came and cut them down.
   
   "A woman, I forget her name, that was a widow, and lived 15 miles
   South of Fort Worth, lost some critters to rustlers. [?] party of
   cowhands took up the trail for her. The rustlers split up into three
   bunches East of Fort Worth, and we did the same. Three of the bunch
   were caught up with on the line of Denton and [arrant?] Counties. When
   them rustlers left there, they were traveling feet first. The sheriff
   found one of the three with a steer's tail sticking out of his mouth.
   
   "I stayed with the 'BFL' outfit for a year, then dragged back to the
   Fordice outfit. I don't want to leave the idea that we cowhands did
   not have some fun along with the tough times. We spent most of our
   time on the Foredice outfit practicing shooting, roping, riding, and
   having contests that were friendly, but for blood. Sometimes, the
   contests would be betwixt the hands of different outfits. The old
   '101' outfit was near the Foredice ranch and often, a contest would be
   held betwixt the hands of the two outfits.
   
   "Deer were plentiful and we would contest in roping the animals to see
   who could bring in one alive. [t?] that, I always came out loser. The
   deer would always break it's neck on me. They had to be handled
   properly to keep the critter from jumping in the air and coming down
   on their [he d?], which would bust their kneck every time. It required
   skillful manipulation of the rope to prevent 001313the act. There were
   a good number of the boys that could bring in the door alive.
   
   "The worst mess I ever got into while roping wild animals was rolling
   a buffalo bull. I had to cut the [?] to get away from him. That animal
   did not jump into the air but at me and the hoss, and I am here to say
   that animal was full of fight. I have seen waddies bring in wild cats
   and all manner of animals that they had roped but no two year
   buffaloes.
   
   "My game was riding. Dick Thompson was the best man on a hoss I ever
   saw. I was equal to him except on bare back. I could do anything in a
   saddle that he could do but could not do the bare back stuff. Booger
   Red was on the '101' ranch at the time I was on the Foredice. He was a
   top rider but the loop was his main stunt. That man could loop any leg
   of a running critter from any position. He could just make a rope
   talk.
   
   A bunch of us cow hands took part in an organized rodeo in 1896. I
   reckon it was about the first of such. There were Bob Taylor, son of
   John, Bob Cater, Booger Red, and myself that were the top of the
   outfit. He started at Seymour. I took the riding from Booger in the
   contest there. Bob Carter took it from me here in Fort Worth. Booger
   got the championship back in Corsicana. Booger always took the contest
   in roping. He did not make a lot of jack but had lots of fun. We were
   earnest in our efforts and put the pressure on each other.
   
   "I went to Arkansas after that rodeo trip and went into the cattle
   buying business there. That put an end to my range career.

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