Coop's Corner: Early Family History

Friday, December 8, 2017

Early Family History - Told By Gramp Allen

Dad's dad had numerous stories published in Good Old Times magazine. He liked to write, document things and correspond with anyone that would correspond back. Throughout his life, he gathered, saved, commented and shared what he'd learned about places that he or his family had been as well as many of their experiences.

I've mentioned before that some of my fondest memories of spending time with him was sitting on the davenport, he leaning into and over me, sharing maps, train schedules, photo albums and later, letters. He loved knowing about history in general and especially so when it bumped up against anything that had to do with family.

There are literally boxes I'm going through of his letters in longhand, but if there was ever a typewriter nearby, he'd find a way to use it. One of the things I've stumbled upon and remember very well are photos of his time spent in West Baden Indiana. He served there at US Army General Army Hospital #35 (mentioned in the letter that follows) in 1918-1919 at the end of WW1. There's an arrow on one photo pointing to one of the nurses....."Taught me to type".

The historic hotel near West Baden/French Lick was once called the "Eighth Wonder Of The World" due to its 200 foot clear span dome over the atrium. Gramp was fascinated with the structure, made friends with one of the maintenance men and had access to catwalks, towers and corners of the building that few others had.

After his stint patching up fellow soldier's that had returned from Europe, he "bummed around" and there were numerous stories about his time riding...."the Pullman's with the big doors on each side..."

Here he is with two sisters, one of which would become my grandmother, taken near where the girls lived in Vananda, Montana.

The letter that Gramp wrote back to his mother in Wisconsin.....making good use of the corporate typing machine at his place of employment.

Below written in 1943 by Allen W Cooper, my grandfather describing the family on his mother's side. By the '40's he was back in Wisconsin, carrying Rural Mail for the US Postal Service. These pages include a summary of his grandfather, Henry Hulburt's time spent in California during the Gold Rush. The highlights of w vhat I remember being told, his first trip was taken on a ship "down around the Horn" and gold was found. There was another trip, that one less successful riches-wise but there was adventure 'cutting across' at Panama. Hawaii and even China are mentioned as destinations. I've been looking for Henry's diary from those days but still haven't found it; I know that dad had it stashed somewhere.

Gramp pulled excerpts from the July 1856 entries down in Page 4 and I've only included the first 7 pages (of 20) that end upon Henry and Lydia's arrival in Sparta, Wisconsin.

This was something that continues to fascinate me; locations on each of his birthdays.....how many birthday locations do you remember??

3 generations benefiting from another story in the back yard.

2 generations getting ready for a ride....the best and longest riding one that we shared was our trip to Aspencade in Riudoso, NM in October, 1978. I don't remember where the SP and GS took us this particular day.

And finally, Gram and Gramp enjoying one of their favorite Senior pastimes...making music together.

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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)