TX BIOS:  L. E. Smith
   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 - RANGE LORE PHRASES & SAYINGS - DIALECT
   
   Phipps, Woody
   
   Rangelore
   
   Tarrant Co., Dist. #7 [79?]
   
   Page #1
   
   FC
   
   L.E. Smith, 81, was born on a farm in New Jersey. His uncle reared him
   as his parents died in his infancy. He ran away from home at 18,
   gradually working his way South until he reached Texas in 1883. He was
   employed as a cowboy on the 101 Ranch in San Saba Co. The next Yr., he
   was employed on the Bonner Ranch in San Saba, then the next five Yrs.
   by C.A. O:Keefe, a Ft. Worth cattleman who operated a ranch in Dawson
   Co., Tex. He was then employed on several ranches by Winfield Scott,
   Mt. Worth cattleman who dealt in ranches and cattle. After 10 Yrs.
   with Scott, Smith retired from the range and now resides in Silverton,
   Texas. His story:
   
   "Sure, I rode the range. Rode it when a man was a cow puncher and not
   a ranch hand. These cowboys today, they've got the name but they never
   went through the [soughs?]. In my day, when we wanted hosses, we went
   to the hills and caught 'em. Didn't have no pen to run 'em around in,
   either. The way we'd do, was to have the gang close in, one or two to
   lasso the hoss we thought was best if we had more than one, then the
   one that needed the hoss got off, slapped his hull on the wild one and
   rode him. If you didn't stay with him, you more than likely let him
   get away, and you were out a hoss. We generally stayed with them once
   we got into the hull, 'til they pitched plum out and were so tuckered
   out they could hardly stand.
   
   "I wasn't what they call, 'born to the range,' but I came to it as a
   young man and gave the best part of my life to it. You see, I was born
   on my dad's farm in New Jersey, but both my parents shoved off while I
   was still a little shaver, and my uncle took me over. I didn't take to
   being bound over to him, and just as soon's I was 18, I lit out for
   the wide open spaces.
   
   "I done my first riding for the great Western Cattle Co. in Kansas.
   
     NOTE: C12 - 2/11/41 - Texas
     
   00022They didn't run a brand of their own but bought from ranchers all
   over the country, then fed 'em out in winter feed lots and grazed 'em
   on their Eastern Kansas cattle range, where the grazing was bounteous.
   
   "After some time, I quit the Great Western and rode on South on my own
   hoss and saddle. By the way, I won that hoss and saddle in a roping
   contest a [little?] over a year after I saw my first lasso and cow
   pony. You see, I had to have a job, and the closest job was with the
   Great Western if I could ride, so I bargained with them if they'd feed
   me 'til I learnt, I wouldn't be long in learning and I'd make 'em a
   good hand. Yep, that's the way of it.
   
   "Well, I reckon 'twas along in the Summer of '83 when I crossed over
   into Texas and lit on the 101 Ranch in San Saba county. The Murray
   Brothers owned the spread and ran a bank and a big mercantile store in
   San Saba. They both ram rodded the spread, and ran between four and
   5,000 head in the 101 iron.
   
   "I never did really cotton to the spread after I went to work there.
   Seemed to me like somebody wanted to make a lot of money on a little
   time and effort. The grass was awful short, and the cattle skittish
   and half starved, so you could expect a stomp most anytime you had
   over 10 of 'em rounded up in a herd. They'd sure stampede. I made the
   Fall round up, then worked through the winter but by Spring round up,
   I'd left the 101 and went to work for old Captain Bonner.
   
   "Cap ran more to hosses than he did to cattle, buying, selling,
   trapping and trading them all the time. He did have about 300 head of
   stockers, though, and about 300 head of hosses. All in 00033his 'OM'
   iron. I done an awful lot of bronc busting in the short time I was
   there, taking over where his regular hoss buster turned 'em loose for
   a little more breaking. Many's the time I'd ride 'em 'til I had the
   nose bleed so bad I'd get weak, an' my guts'd seem to be about ready
   to bust out. My shins, too, they'd be plum raw all the time I worked
   with them hosses. You see, where you ride them wild ones, you had to
   grip as hard as you could with your knees and your clothes would
   wrinkle up. Every where you'd have a wrinkle in your pants, you had
   the skin rubbed off'n your leg. No real bronc buster ever rode the
   wild ones with chaps on. Those things were to protect your legs when
   you rode through the chaparral.
   
   "That seemed to be a little too hard a way to go through life, so I
   chucked the spread and lit out for Fort Worth after the Fall roundup.
   While in here, I hired to old man C.A. O:Keefe, who was a big cattle
   buyer and owned the 'Fish Ranch.' I calc'late he run 4,000 head in the
   Fish iron, made like this: . Headquarters for the ranch stood right
   where Lamesa Texas, in Dawson Co., stands right this day.
   
   "Henry Mason was the ram rod and wagon boss too, and a better rider,
   roper, or shot, I never saw in my life, and I've seen a many a one and
   been in a couple of squeezes where he would have come in handy. I
   didn't stay on the spread myself, but went with O:Keefe to handle the
   shipping end of his buying.
   
   "O'Keefe and I rode several 100 miles down into Mexico after beef, but
   he bought the most of if from old Uncle Tom [Snydey?], who ran a ranch
   about 100 Mi. S. of the line, and from old man Caufield, who ran a
   spread about 90 Mi. S. of Bisbee, Arizona, in Mexico. 00044"Now, I
   don't recall just how big their spreads were, nor how many cattle they
   run. The only thing I can tell you clear enough about, is that we
   bought the cattle 'range delivery,' and their men drove them to the
   rail roads. I handled the rail road end of it, and always had the cars
   spotted when I could get them. Then O'Keefe'd have the cattle roaded
   to one of his feeder spots, and he had a number of them in Texas, New
   Mexico, and Arizona.
   
   "He'd feed them out, then ship to market. That was the way he done
   business. One of the New Mexico feeder spots was next to the Hittson
   Ranch. Jack and Della Hittson owned it, she being Jack's wife. They
   were both good riders, and handled wild hosses all the time. She'd
   ride hosses I couldn't even look at, and I was considered some shakes
   when it come to riding the wild ones. The ones I never liked to mess
   around with, were those you'd come acrost once in awhile, that
   wouldn't tame. Outlaws. That's what we called them ornery
   son-ofa-guns. They'd finally tame if they never killed anybody in the
   meantime, and maybe even then they'd tame. I've seen any number of
   wild hosses that were never tamed, and killed from one to three or
   four men before somebody cut down on then with a six shooter.
   
   "Della is still living, running a hotel in Amarillo. Jack got killed
   while penning a bunch of wild hosses. You see, that was when barb wire
   first came into New Mexico, and neither Jack nor the hoss were used to
   it being around, and the hoss ran into the wire, Jack fell off and
   broke his neck.
   
   "Barb wire is a hard thing to get used to, and is hard to see when
   you've got your mind on penning stock. In fact, if it wasn't for the
   posts, you'd never think of wire while working stock. 00055The Hittson
   spread was a mighty nice one, but didn't run entirely to stock. They
   ran around 1,500 head of stockers, 1,000 head of hosses, and around
   10,000 sheep.
   
   "I reckon I worked with O'Keefe for five years before I hired out to
   old man Winfield Scott, a Fort Worth cattleman that dealt in cattle
   and ranches, too. He had at least three big ones while I was with him,
   and about 20 feeder spots in N.M. and Texas. He owned the Hat Ranch on
   the N.M. border, the O.D. Ranch which was located where Coke Co. is
   now, and the Scott Ranch near Fort Worth.
   
   "Now, I never paid no attention to how many head, or how big these
   ranches were, because I kept on the road nigh onto all the time,
   buying up stock for Scott.
   
   "I bought from all the ranches I could get any beef from. Among the
   big deals I handled for Scott, were those with the Yellow House Ranch,
   up in the Panhandle near the Yellow House Canyon. Old Dick Arnett ram
   rodded that spread, and managed another called the Renderbrook Ranch,
   just South of Colorado City, Texas. He was one of the best pistol
   shots, riders and ropers that Texas ever produced. Another thing, he
   had as much sand in his craw as ary other man I ever met. If he
   thought there might be a little rustling going on somewhere, and he
   might not get there before he could get some hands to go with him,
   he'd light out alone, and fit them rustlers to a fare ye well. He'd do
   it. Now, I can't recall any certain time he done this, but he's done
   it a number of times, and it was on the strength of his guts that old
   Bill Elwood gave him the ram rodding job in the first place.
   
   "Old Dick done like the rest of us, though. He got too 00066old one
   day, and Bill put him out to pasture, and made my nephew, O.C. Jones,
   or, Otto, to ram rodding them spreads. After Bill died, the Elwood
   Estate put him manager over it all, and he holds the job today.
   
   "You know, when you're out buying up cattle, nothing much'll ever
   happen to you. It used to be mighty interesting when we had range
   delivery, where the rancher signed a contract to have so many head at
   such and such a spot for so much a head, and you always took his word.
   What broke that up was when a few started to cutting short a herd on
   range delivery, and when a man sold them, and had to tally them to the
   man he sold to, he lost money so that knocked the old range delivery
   in the head.
   
   "If I could recall all that ever happened way back yonder in my time,
   you'd have a-plenty to write about but you can bet your boots that
   I've been a cowboy with the best of them. This morning here at the
   Stock Show, a young upstart with fancy boots, and the rest of the
   finery these here drug store cowboys wear, happened to notice that I
   wore boots, and he said, Hay!, pop. Did you ever straddle a cayuse?'
   
   "I didn't answer that one, but asked one instead. I said, 'If a cow
   was running by you and her left side was to you, which leg would you
   lasso?' He studied a minute, and the gang ribbed him so bad he walked
   off with his face red as a beet. He couldn't answer that one, and its
   a natural to anyone that's ever roped as much as a month. That's why I
   said they had the name but didn't go through the roughs. And I've got
   the name, and I've been there. I don't know, and there's no way of
   checking, but I reckon I've sent more cattle to market than ary other
   man a-living.

************************************************************************
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
***********************************************************************