JAMES HARVEY GRIMES PIONEERED IN ARMSTRONG COUNTY
BY. MATTIF GRIMES BAILEY
Source: History of Armstrong County Vol. 2 (1939)
My parents, Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Grimes were among the first settlers of Armstrong County suffering many hardships which mark the history of the Panhandle of Texas. From our door you could see wild deer, and antelope in great herds grazing on acres and acres of tall thickly matted grass that covered the beautiful west open prairie, and herds of wild mustang horses with their flowing manes and tails touching the ground. The mirage was so vivid, at times, it seemed as though they were standing by a great lake of water. I love this beautiful picture that was so indelibly imprinted on my childish mind.
My father was born in Maury County, Tennessee in 1856, where my Mother also was born in 1864 and they grew up in the same community.
My father hardly knows why he left his native state but there was so much talk about the west, so many people leaving Tennessee going to Texas, and while he was yet in the prime of his youthful life, he left his home with a party bound for Texas and in due time the train arrived at Waxahachie. A few years later my mother, Dora Patton, came to Waxahachie with her parents to live, where she and my father were married in 1881. They lived in Stephen County about four years and later moved to Collin County near Nevado. They recall with pleasure attending many old time camp meetings, under brush arbors while living there. The arbors were built by men living in the country and usually the land for these meeting places was donated to the community by some generous person. People came from far and near to attend these wonderful church services where the main objective in life was true fellowhsip.
In 1889 my father was helping load an immigrant car, leaving for Washburn, Texas belonging to Captain Warren and after every thing was loaded there was still room in the car. Captain Warren said, "Jim, why don't you go too?" The call appealed to him, and almost immediately he and my mother decided to load their household goods into the car and push farther west.
We arrived in Washburn December 3, 1889. Washburn was almost as large as Amarillo and quite a bit larger than Claude. In fact there were only two houses in Claude, and about this time there was quite a dispute over which would be the county seat Claude or Washburn. The first few months on the Texas plains, we lived in a small dugout on Captain Warren's place five miles south of Washburn.
On April 1, 1890, we moved to a section of land, which my father had filed on. This section was one mile north of the J. J. ranch headquarters, which is now known as the Harrell Ranch. The J. J.'s was a part of the J. A. ranch, the main ranch being divided into two ranches, when it was first established. And were those cowboys of the range good neighbors? I'll say they were; kind, considerate and big hearted. There was no service to great for them to render when it became necessary. In reminiscing the ones I call to mind are Jim Christian, Jeff Martin, George McMahon, Jeff Campbell and A. B. Dewald.
On this section, my father had built a house sixteen by sixteen feet, Cedar post were put into the ground at each corner of the building, boards were nailed to these, and shingles put on the roof, my mother kept house under trying conditions, for this little house had only a dirt floor for six months. She would sweep the floor and sprinkle it with water to keep the dust down. Later aboard floor was added. The house had one window and one door, the door was fastened on the outside with a latch and on the inside with a wooden bar. My mother in speaking of this little pioneer home says, "I was as proud of that house then, as women are today of homes, with modern conveniences". My father traded post for the material that was built into this little house.
After we were domiciled in the new little home my father went to work to make our livelihood. He had no choice of jobs, just doing whatever work he could find. He had to work away from home and sometimes would be gone a week or two at a time. He was hired by Mr. Jud Campbell, foreman of the J. J. ranch, to build a string of fence and was paid $45 per mile for this job. He cut the post in the beautiful Palo Duro canyon. And would carry them on his shoulder out of the deepest part of the canyon, pulling them to the top with horse and chain. Later a wooden car was made, then the post were loaded on this and pulled over 800 feet of wooden track to the top with a team. When unloaded, the weight of the car pulled it back down the track again. Just as he was coming out of the canyon one day he saw a man running his horses under ship, neither turning to the right nor the left, but looking straight ahead, my father gave him the road, wondering what his mission was. A few days later he heard that someone had seen the cowboys killing a beef and it had been reported that Indians had come into the country and were killing people right and left and this man had come from Amarillo to convey the news to this sister, who lived somewhere in the Palo Duro Canyon.
My father sold or traded his post in Panhandle and Amarillo. Mr. Lloyd, a lumberman, and a man to whom my father had traded post for lumber offered to trade him a corner lot at about 6th and Polk Street in Amarillo for a load of post, which would have been about two hundred, but my father did not think that enough for his post and turned the offer down. He and a neighbor were hauling a load of post to Panhandle when a terrible blizzard blew up. They camped for the night and made their bed on the ground, but the wind was so strong they could not keep the covers on, so they got up, took post from their load, put them down on each side and the foot of their bed to hold the covers down and slept warm the remainder of the night. The next morning they sold the load of post and returned to Washburn. On the way home they were almost frozen to the bone. They got so cold they had to wrap quilts around them and walk all the way to Washburn.
Water for all purposes had to be hauled from a dirt tank or prairie lake, for the first few years as there were no windmills in early days. Later we hauled water from the nearest windmill which was eight miles away. One day when the water supply was exhausted, and my father was away from home, my mother had the water to haul. She could not catch but one horse, so she hitched it to one side of the wagon tongue, and hauled a barrel of water. My father kids her today by saying, "You thought because you were just hauling one barrel of water one horse was sufficient." But my mother insists that was the one and only solution to her water problem. My father had to be away from home so much of the time, leaving her to keep the homefires burning alone, and it was lonesome for a woman to be left with just small children, miles and miles away from other people. Often she would sing to keep from getting lonesome and to drive the blues away.
In the early days, rocking chairs were as scarce as hen teeth as the saying goes and we had the only one in that neck of the woods for a long time. Thad Bushnell a cowboy at the ranch became ill, and when he was convalescing his mother, who was nursing him back to health borrowed the chair for him to sit up in. This chair is still one of the most treasured possessions in the household.
On July 3, 1891 my father started back to Stephen County to get a herd of horses he had left behind. In order to gain a few miles on the leg of his journey, he decided to spend the night with a neighbor. He carefully loaded his brood into the wagon and set out, stopping with Mr. Lewis Myres for the night. Mr. Myres had dug a double dugout, one part of which was completed and sheltered the family. That night a terrific rain came and filled the new dugout, which had not been covered, with water. About eleven o'clock, when all were dead to the world and the rain still coming in torrants, the water broke through the partition wall of the dugout. My father jumped out of bed in water knee deep. After fishing around for clothes, dripping wet, the rain still falling in sheets and the night so dark you could not see your hand in front of you, they loaded women and children into a two horse hack. The horses being out on the pasture, Doc Thornton took hold of the wagon tongue; my father grabbed one single tree; Mr. Myres the other and started down to Bill Pattersons, an old bachelor who was living down a claim in his dugout home. The only thing they had to guide them was a beaten out trail standing full of water which beamed like a white line when the lightning flashed and broke the impenetrable darkness. When we arrived at our destination, my father jumped upon the dugout door and yelled, "Get up, Bill, you have got company." Mr. Patterson got up and started a fire to dry our clothes. At day break the sky had cleared but it took most of the next day to dish things out of the water filled dugout, and it was three or four days before my father could leave for his horses.
Most of the land around Washburn had been filed on when my father came to the plains, and many men were batching in dugouts, while they lived out their claims. Our homestead was located twenty-two miles from Claude and on two occasions my father walked to town and returned the same day, walking a total distance of forty-four miles in one day.
I appreciate the fact that my parents were deeply religious, on Sunday evenings there wasn't any church services to attend, for it was long before preachers had ventured into this part of the world, they would get their little old song book and make the air ring, with their voices singing old religious hymns with no one to listen in but the skunks, the wild coyote and the prairie dog which is almost extinct now, but at that time their little towns were numerous. My father was the first superintendent of the Llano Sunday school in the little school house where we older children attended our first school with Miss Sue Hancock as teacher.
From 1890 to 1900 many of the very worst blizzards in the history of the Panhandle hit. On February 12, 1899 the thermometer dropped to twenty-three degrees below zero. Also in 1892 and again in 1895 a terrible blizzard came that resulted in the loss of livestock and other damages. We could walk over the drifts of snow that covered the yard fence.
My father would get lost easily when it would be necessary for him to be away from home at nights and occasionally in the day time, as there was nothing in sight to make his way. At night my mother would put a light in the window or hang a light outside the house to guide him home. Often there would be a dense fog and it would be impossible for him to see the light, and sometimes on a clear night he would miss his course. He would drive a distance and call, then drive a little farther and call again until she would answer him. When my mother was expecting him to return at night she would always listen for his call or when he got close enough to hear him whistling, "Buffalo Gals Won't You Come Out To Night" or some other old time tune, she would guide him home. One time when she was not expecting him, he heard her singing and located the house.
My parents moved to Claude in 1885 where we children could have better school advantages, where my father worked at the blacksmith trade for four years. He sold his shop in 1899 and moved to a farm one mile north of Claude where they live today. He was tax assessor for eight years and farmed at the same time. Since he quit public life he has farmed. My father is 83 years old, he still farms a part of his ground, and drives his car. My mother is 75 years old. They are both quite active. They have watched the plains grow from a few hundred in population to several hundred thousand with much interest and still take a great interest in any thing on the Texas plains where comforts were few and hardships were many in early days, and it took all the courage they had to stay. It was hard living and lonesome, yet, they have some happy memories of those days.
July 1939
BY. MATTIF GRIMES BAILEY
Source: History of Armstrong County Vol. 2 (1939)
My parents, Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Grimes were among the first settlers of Armstrong County suffering many hardships which mark the history of the Panhandle of Texas. From our door you could see wild deer, and antelope in great herds grazing on acres and acres of tall thickly matted grass that covered the beautiful west open prairie, and herds of wild mustang horses with their flowing manes and tails touching the ground. The mirage was so vivid, at times, it seemed as though they were standing by a great lake of water. I love this beautiful picture that was so indelibly imprinted on my childish mind.
My father was born in Maury County, Tennessee in 1856, where my Mother also was born in 1864 and they grew up in the same community.
My father hardly knows why he left his native state but there was so much talk about the west, so many people leaving Tennessee going to Texas, and while he was yet in the prime of his youthful life, he left his home with a party bound for Texas and in due time the train arrived at Waxahachie. A few years later my mother, Dora Patton, came to Waxahachie with her parents to live, where she and my father were married in 1881. They lived in Stephen County about four years and later moved to Collin County near Nevado. They recall with pleasure attending many old time camp meetings, under brush arbors while living there. The arbors were built by men living in the country and usually the land for these meeting places was donated to the community by some generous person. People came from far and near to attend these wonderful church services where the main objective in life was true fellowhsip.
In 1889 my father was helping load an immigrant car, leaving for Washburn, Texas belonging to Captain Warren and after every thing was loaded there was still room in the car. Captain Warren said, "Jim, why don't you go too?" The call appealed to him, and almost immediately he and my mother decided to load their household goods into the car and push farther west.
We arrived in Washburn December 3, 1889. Washburn was almost as large as Amarillo and quite a bit larger than Claude. In fact there were only two houses in Claude, and about this time there was quite a dispute over which would be the county seat Claude or Washburn. The first few months on the Texas plains, we lived in a small dugout on Captain Warren's place five miles south of Washburn.
On April 1, 1890, we moved to a section of land, which my father had filed on. This section was one mile north of the J. J. ranch headquarters, which is now known as the Harrell Ranch. The J. J.'s was a part of the J. A. ranch, the main ranch being divided into two ranches, when it was first established. And were those cowboys of the range good neighbors? I'll say they were; kind, considerate and big hearted. There was no service to great for them to render when it became necessary. In reminiscing the ones I call to mind are Jim Christian, Jeff Martin, George McMahon, Jeff Campbell and A. B. Dewald.
On this section, my father had built a house sixteen by sixteen feet, Cedar post were put into the ground at each corner of the building, boards were nailed to these, and shingles put on the roof, my mother kept house under trying conditions, for this little house had only a dirt floor for six months. She would sweep the floor and sprinkle it with water to keep the dust down. Later aboard floor was added. The house had one window and one door, the door was fastened on the outside with a latch and on the inside with a wooden bar. My mother in speaking of this little pioneer home says, "I was as proud of that house then, as women are today of homes, with modern conveniences". My father traded post for the material that was built into this little house.
After we were domiciled in the new little home my father went to work to make our livelihood. He had no choice of jobs, just doing whatever work he could find. He had to work away from home and sometimes would be gone a week or two at a time. He was hired by Mr. Jud Campbell, foreman of the J. J. ranch, to build a string of fence and was paid $45 per mile for this job. He cut the post in the beautiful Palo Duro canyon. And would carry them on his shoulder out of the deepest part of the canyon, pulling them to the top with horse and chain. Later a wooden car was made, then the post were loaded on this and pulled over 800 feet of wooden track to the top with a team. When unloaded, the weight of the car pulled it back down the track again. Just as he was coming out of the canyon one day he saw a man running his horses under ship, neither turning to the right nor the left, but looking straight ahead, my father gave him the road, wondering what his mission was. A few days later he heard that someone had seen the cowboys killing a beef and it had been reported that Indians had come into the country and were killing people right and left and this man had come from Amarillo to convey the news to this sister, who lived somewhere in the Palo Duro Canyon.
My father sold or traded his post in Panhandle and Amarillo. Mr. Lloyd, a lumberman, and a man to whom my father had traded post for lumber offered to trade him a corner lot at about 6th and Polk Street in Amarillo for a load of post, which would have been about two hundred, but my father did not think that enough for his post and turned the offer down. He and a neighbor were hauling a load of post to Panhandle when a terrible blizzard blew up. They camped for the night and made their bed on the ground, but the wind was so strong they could not keep the covers on, so they got up, took post from their load, put them down on each side and the foot of their bed to hold the covers down and slept warm the remainder of the night. The next morning they sold the load of post and returned to Washburn. On the way home they were almost frozen to the bone. They got so cold they had to wrap quilts around them and walk all the way to Washburn.
Water for all purposes had to be hauled from a dirt tank or prairie lake, for the first few years as there were no windmills in early days. Later we hauled water from the nearest windmill which was eight miles away. One day when the water supply was exhausted, and my father was away from home, my mother had the water to haul. She could not catch but one horse, so she hitched it to one side of the wagon tongue, and hauled a barrel of water. My father kids her today by saying, "You thought because you were just hauling one barrel of water one horse was sufficient." But my mother insists that was the one and only solution to her water problem. My father had to be away from home so much of the time, leaving her to keep the homefires burning alone, and it was lonesome for a woman to be left with just small children, miles and miles away from other people. Often she would sing to keep from getting lonesome and to drive the blues away.
In the early days, rocking chairs were as scarce as hen teeth as the saying goes and we had the only one in that neck of the woods for a long time. Thad Bushnell a cowboy at the ranch became ill, and when he was convalescing his mother, who was nursing him back to health borrowed the chair for him to sit up in. This chair is still one of the most treasured possessions in the household.
On July 3, 1891 my father started back to Stephen County to get a herd of horses he had left behind. In order to gain a few miles on the leg of his journey, he decided to spend the night with a neighbor. He carefully loaded his brood into the wagon and set out, stopping with Mr. Lewis Myres for the night. Mr. Myres had dug a double dugout, one part of which was completed and sheltered the family. That night a terrific rain came and filled the new dugout, which had not been covered, with water. About eleven o'clock, when all were dead to the world and the rain still coming in torrants, the water broke through the partition wall of the dugout. My father jumped out of bed in water knee deep. After fishing around for clothes, dripping wet, the rain still falling in sheets and the night so dark you could not see your hand in front of you, they loaded women and children into a two horse hack. The horses being out on the pasture, Doc Thornton took hold of the wagon tongue; my father grabbed one single tree; Mr. Myres the other and started down to Bill Pattersons, an old bachelor who was living down a claim in his dugout home. The only thing they had to guide them was a beaten out trail standing full of water which beamed like a white line when the lightning flashed and broke the impenetrable darkness. When we arrived at our destination, my father jumped upon the dugout door and yelled, "Get up, Bill, you have got company." Mr. Patterson got up and started a fire to dry our clothes. At day break the sky had cleared but it took most of the next day to dish things out of the water filled dugout, and it was three or four days before my father could leave for his horses.
Most of the land around Washburn had been filed on when my father came to the plains, and many men were batching in dugouts, while they lived out their claims. Our homestead was located twenty-two miles from Claude and on two occasions my father walked to town and returned the same day, walking a total distance of forty-four miles in one day.
I appreciate the fact that my parents were deeply religious, on Sunday evenings there wasn't any church services to attend, for it was long before preachers had ventured into this part of the world, they would get their little old song book and make the air ring, with their voices singing old religious hymns with no one to listen in but the skunks, the wild coyote and the prairie dog which is almost extinct now, but at that time their little towns were numerous. My father was the first superintendent of the Llano Sunday school in the little school house where we older children attended our first school with Miss Sue Hancock as teacher.
From 1890 to 1900 many of the very worst blizzards in the history of the Panhandle hit. On February 12, 1899 the thermometer dropped to twenty-three degrees below zero. Also in 1892 and again in 1895 a terrible blizzard came that resulted in the loss of livestock and other damages. We could walk over the drifts of snow that covered the yard fence.
My father would get lost easily when it would be necessary for him to be away from home at nights and occasionally in the day time, as there was nothing in sight to make his way. At night my mother would put a light in the window or hang a light outside the house to guide him home. Often there would be a dense fog and it would be impossible for him to see the light, and sometimes on a clear night he would miss his course. He would drive a distance and call, then drive a little farther and call again until she would answer him. When my mother was expecting him to return at night she would always listen for his call or when he got close enough to hear him whistling, "Buffalo Gals Won't You Come Out To Night" or some other old time tune, she would guide him home. One time when she was not expecting him, he heard her singing and located the house.
My parents moved to Claude in 1885 where we children could have better school advantages, where my father worked at the blacksmith trade for four years. He sold his shop in 1899 and moved to a farm one mile north of Claude where they live today. He was tax assessor for eight years and farmed at the same time. Since he quit public life he has farmed. My father is 83 years old, he still farms a part of his ground, and drives his car. My mother is 75 years old. They are both quite active. They have watched the plains grow from a few hundred in population to several hundred thousand with much interest and still take a great interest in any thing on the Texas plains where comforts were few and hardships were many in early days, and it took all the courage they had to stay. It was hard living and lonesome, yet, they have some happy memories of those days.
July 1939
JAMES HARVEY GRIMES PIONEERED IN ARMSTRONG COUNTY
BY. MATTIF GRIMES BAILEY
Source: History of Armstrong County Vol. 2 (1939)
My parents, Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Grimes were among the first settlers of Armstrong County suffering many hardships which mark the history of the Panhandle of Texas. From our door you could see wild deer, and antelope in great herds grazing on acres and acres of tall thickly matted grass that covered the beautiful west open prairie, and herds of wild mustang horses with their flowing manes and tails touching the ground. The mirage was so vivid, at times, it seemed as though they were standing by a great lake of water. I love this beautiful picture that was so indelibly imprinted on my childish mind.
My father was born in Maury County, Tennessee in 1856, where my Mother also was born in 1864 and they grew up in the same community.
My father hardly knows why he left his native state but there was so much talk about the west, so many people leaving Tennessee going to Texas, and while he was yet in the prime of his youthful life, he left his home with a party bound for Texas and in due time the train arrived at Waxahachie. A few years later my mother, Dora Patton, came to Waxahachie with her parents to live, where she and my father were married in 1881. They lived in Stephen County about four years and later moved to Collin County near Nevado. They recall with pleasure attending many old time camp meetings, under brush arbors while living there. The arbors were built by men living in the country and usually the land for these meeting places was donated to the community by some generous person. People came from far and near to attend these wonderful church services where the main objective in life was true fellowhsip.
In 1889 my father was helping load an immigrant car, leaving for Washburn, Texas belonging to Captain Warren and after every thing was loaded there was still room in the car. Captain Warren said, "Jim, why don't you go too?" The call appealed to him, and almost immediately he and my mother decided to load their household goods into the car and push farther west.
We arrived in Washburn December 3, 1889. Washburn was almost as large as Amarillo and quite a bit larger than Claude. In fact there were only two houses in Claude, and about this time there was quite a dispute over which would be the county seat Claude or Washburn. The first few months on the Texas plains, we lived in a small dugout on Captain Warren's place five miles south of Washburn.
On April 1, 1890, we moved to a section of land, which my father had filed on. This section was one mile north of the J. J. ranch headquarters, which is now known as the Harrell Ranch. The J. J.'s was a part of the J. A. ranch, the main ranch being divided into two ranches, when it was first established. And were those cowboys of the range good neighbors? I'll say they were; kind, considerate and big hearted. There was no service to great for them to render when it became necessary. In reminiscing the ones I call to mind are Jim Christian, Jeff Martin, George McMahon, Jeff Campbell and A. B. Dewald.
On this section, my father had built a house sixteen by sixteen feet, Cedar post were put into the ground at each corner of the building, boards were nailed to these, and shingles put on the roof, my mother kept house under trying conditions, for this little house had only a dirt floor for six months. She would sweep the floor and sprinkle it with water to keep the dust down. Later aboard floor was added. The house had one window and one door, the door was fastened on the outside with a latch and on the inside with a wooden bar. My mother in speaking of this little pioneer home says, "I was as proud of that house then, as women are today of homes, with modern conveniences". My father traded post for the material that was built into this little house.
After we were domiciled in the new little home my father went to work to make our livelihood. He had no choice of jobs, just doing whatever work he could find. He had to work away from home and sometimes would be gone a week or two at a time. He was hired by Mr. Jud Campbell, foreman of the J. J. ranch, to build a string of fence and was paid $45 per mile for this job. He cut the post in the beautiful Palo Duro canyon. And would carry them on his shoulder out of the deepest part of the canyon, pulling them to the top with horse and chain. Later a wooden car was made, then the post were loaded on this and pulled over 800 feet of wooden track to the top with a team. When unloaded, the weight of the car pulled it back down the track again. Just as he was coming out of the canyon one day he saw a man running his horses under ship, neither turning to the right nor the left, but looking straight ahead, my father gave him the road, wondering what his mission was. A few days later he heard that someone had seen the cowboys killing a beef and it had been reported that Indians had come into the country and were killing people right and left and this man had come from Amarillo to convey the news to this sister, who lived somewhere in the Palo Duro Canyon.
My father sold or traded his post in Panhandle and Amarillo. Mr. Lloyd, a lumberman, and a man to whom my father had traded post for lumber offered to trade him a corner lot at about 6th and Polk Street in Amarillo for a load of post, which would have been about two hundred, but my father did not think that enough for his post and turned the offer down. He and a neighbor were hauling a load of post to Panhandle when a terrible blizzard blew up. They camped for the night and made their bed on the ground, but the wind was so strong they could not keep the covers on, so they got up, took post from their load, put them down on each side and the foot of their bed to hold the covers down and slept warm the remainder of the night. The next morning they sold the load of post and returned to Washburn. On the way home they were almost frozen to the bone. They got so cold they had to wrap quilts around them and walk all the way to Washburn.
Water for all purposes had to be hauled from a dirt tank or prairie lake, for the first few years as there were no windmills in early days. Later we hauled water from the nearest windmill which was eight miles away. One day when the water supply was exhausted, and my father was away from home, my mother had the water to haul. She could not catch but one horse, so she hitched it to one side of the wagon tongue, and hauled a barrel of water. My father kids her today by saying, "You thought because you were just hauling one barrel of water one horse was sufficient." But my mother insists that was the one and only solution to her water problem. My father had to be away from home so much of the time, leaving her to keep the homefires burning alone, and it was lonesome for a woman to be left with just small children, miles and miles away from other people. Often she would sing to keep from getting lonesome and to drive the blues away.
In the early days, rocking chairs were as scarce as hen teeth as the saying goes and we had the only one in that neck of the woods for a long time. Thad Bushnell a cowboy at the ranch became ill, and when he was convalescing his mother, who was nursing him back to health borrowed the chair for him to sit up in. This chair is still one of the most treasured possessions in the household.
On July 3, 1891 my father started back to Stephen County to get a herd of horses he had left behind. In order to gain a few miles on the leg of his journey, he decided to spend the night with a neighbor. He carefully loaded his brood into the wagon and set out, stopping with Mr. Lewis Myres for the night. Mr. Myres had dug a double dugout, one part of which was completed and sheltered the family. That night a terrific rain came and filled the new dugout, which had not been covered, with water. About eleven o'clock, when all were dead to the world and the rain still coming in torrants, the water broke through the partition wall of the dugout. My father jumped out of bed in water knee deep. After fishing around for clothes, dripping wet, the rain still falling in sheets and the night so dark you could not see your hand in front of you, they loaded women and children into a two horse hack. The horses being out on the pasture, Doc Thornton took hold of the wagon tongue; my father grabbed one single tree; Mr. Myres the other and started down to Bill Pattersons, an old bachelor who was living down a claim in his dugout home. The only thing they had to guide them was a beaten out trail standing full of water which beamed like a white line when the lightning flashed and broke the impenetrable darkness. When we arrived at our destination, my father jumped upon the dugout door and yelled, "Get up, Bill, you have got company." Mr. Patterson got up and started a fire to dry our clothes. At day break the sky had cleared but it took most of the next day to dish things out of the water filled dugout, and it was three or four days before my father could leave for his horses.
Most of the land around Washburn had been filed on when my father came to the plains, and many men were batching in dugouts, while they lived out their claims. Our homestead was located twenty-two miles from Claude and on two occasions my father walked to town and returned the same day, walking a total distance of forty-four miles in one day.
I appreciate the fact that my parents were deeply religious, on Sunday evenings there wasn't any church services to attend, for it was long before preachers had ventured into this part of the world, they would get their little old song book and make the air ring, with their voices singing old religious hymns with no one to listen in but the skunks, the wild coyote and the prairie dog which is almost extinct now, but at that time their little towns were numerous. My father was the first superintendent of the Llano Sunday school in the little school house where we older children attended our first school with Miss Sue Hancock as teacher.
From 1890 to 1900 many of the very worst blizzards in the history of the Panhandle hit. On February 12, 1899 the thermometer dropped to twenty-three degrees below zero. Also in 1892 and again in 1895 a terrible blizzard came that resulted in the loss of livestock and other damages. We could walk over the drifts of snow that covered the yard fence.
My father would get lost easily when it would be necessary for him to be away from home at nights and occasionally in the day time, as there was nothing in sight to make his way. At night my mother would put a light in the window or hang a light outside the house to guide him home. Often there would be a dense fog and it would be impossible for him to see the light, and sometimes on a clear night he would miss his course. He would drive a distance and call, then drive a little farther and call again until she would answer him. When my mother was expecting him to return at night she would always listen for his call or when he got close enough to hear him whistling, "Buffalo Gals Won't You Come Out To Night" or some other old time tune, she would guide him home. One time when she was not expecting him, he heard her singing and located the house.
My parents moved to Claude in 1885 where we children could have better school advantages, where my father worked at the blacksmith trade for four years. He sold his shop in 1899 and moved to a farm one mile north of Claude where they live today. He was tax assessor for eight years and farmed at the same time. Since he quit public life he has farmed. My father is 83 years old, he still farms a part of his ground, and drives his car. My mother is 75 years old. They are both quite active. They have watched the plains grow from a few hundred in population to several hundred thousand with much interest and still take a great interest in any thing on the Texas plains where comforts were few and hardships were many in early days, and it took all the courage they had to stay. It was hard living and lonesome, yet, they have some happy memories of those days.
July 1939
BY. MATTIF GRIMES BAILEY
Source: History of Armstrong County Vol. 2 (1939)
My parents, Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Grimes were among the first settlers of Armstrong County suffering many hardships which mark the history of the Panhandle of Texas. From our door you could see wild deer, and antelope in great herds grazing on acres and acres of tall thickly matted grass that covered the beautiful west open prairie, and herds of wild mustang horses with their flowing manes and tails touching the ground. The mirage was so vivid, at times, it seemed as though they were standing by a great lake of water. I love this beautiful picture that was so indelibly imprinted on my childish mind.
My father was born in Maury County, Tennessee in 1856, where my Mother also was born in 1864 and they grew up in the same community.
My father hardly knows why he left his native state but there was so much talk about the west, so many people leaving Tennessee going to Texas, and while he was yet in the prime of his youthful life, he left his home with a party bound for Texas and in due time the train arrived at Waxahachie. A few years later my mother, Dora Patton, came to Waxahachie with her parents to live, where she and my father were married in 1881. They lived in Stephen County about four years and later moved to Collin County near Nevado. They recall with pleasure attending many old time camp meetings, under brush arbors while living there. The arbors were built by men living in the country and usually the land for these meeting places was donated to the community by some generous person. People came from far and near to attend these wonderful church services where the main objective in life was true fellowhsip.
In 1889 my father was helping load an immigrant car, leaving for Washburn, Texas belonging to Captain Warren and after every thing was loaded there was still room in the car. Captain Warren said, "Jim, why don't you go too?" The call appealed to him, and almost immediately he and my mother decided to load their household goods into the car and push farther west.
We arrived in Washburn December 3, 1889. Washburn was almost as large as Amarillo and quite a bit larger than Claude. In fact there were only two houses in Claude, and about this time there was quite a dispute over which would be the county seat Claude or Washburn. The first few months on the Texas plains, we lived in a small dugout on Captain Warren's place five miles south of Washburn.
On April 1, 1890, we moved to a section of land, which my father had filed on. This section was one mile north of the J. J. ranch headquarters, which is now known as the Harrell Ranch. The J. J.'s was a part of the J. A. ranch, the main ranch being divided into two ranches, when it was first established. And were those cowboys of the range good neighbors? I'll say they were; kind, considerate and big hearted. There was no service to great for them to render when it became necessary. In reminiscing the ones I call to mind are Jim Christian, Jeff Martin, George McMahon, Jeff Campbell and A. B. Dewald.
On this section, my father had built a house sixteen by sixteen feet, Cedar post were put into the ground at each corner of the building, boards were nailed to these, and shingles put on the roof, my mother kept house under trying conditions, for this little house had only a dirt floor for six months. She would sweep the floor and sprinkle it with water to keep the dust down. Later aboard floor was added. The house had one window and one door, the door was fastened on the outside with a latch and on the inside with a wooden bar. My mother in speaking of this little pioneer home says, "I was as proud of that house then, as women are today of homes, with modern conveniences". My father traded post for the material that was built into this little house.
After we were domiciled in the new little home my father went to work to make our livelihood. He had no choice of jobs, just doing whatever work he could find. He had to work away from home and sometimes would be gone a week or two at a time. He was hired by Mr. Jud Campbell, foreman of the J. J. ranch, to build a string of fence and was paid $45 per mile for this job. He cut the post in the beautiful Palo Duro canyon. And would carry them on his shoulder out of the deepest part of the canyon, pulling them to the top with horse and chain. Later a wooden car was made, then the post were loaded on this and pulled over 800 feet of wooden track to the top with a team. When unloaded, the weight of the car pulled it back down the track again. Just as he was coming out of the canyon one day he saw a man running his horses under ship, neither turning to the right nor the left, but looking straight ahead, my father gave him the road, wondering what his mission was. A few days later he heard that someone had seen the cowboys killing a beef and it had been reported that Indians had come into the country and were killing people right and left and this man had come from Amarillo to convey the news to this sister, who lived somewhere in the Palo Duro Canyon.
My father sold or traded his post in Panhandle and Amarillo. Mr. Lloyd, a lumberman, and a man to whom my father had traded post for lumber offered to trade him a corner lot at about 6th and Polk Street in Amarillo for a load of post, which would have been about two hundred, but my father did not think that enough for his post and turned the offer down. He and a neighbor were hauling a load of post to Panhandle when a terrible blizzard blew up. They camped for the night and made their bed on the ground, but the wind was so strong they could not keep the covers on, so they got up, took post from their load, put them down on each side and the foot of their bed to hold the covers down and slept warm the remainder of the night. The next morning they sold the load of post and returned to Washburn. On the way home they were almost frozen to the bone. They got so cold they had to wrap quilts around them and walk all the way to Washburn.
Water for all purposes had to be hauled from a dirt tank or prairie lake, for the first few years as there were no windmills in early days. Later we hauled water from the nearest windmill which was eight miles away. One day when the water supply was exhausted, and my father was away from home, my mother had the water to haul. She could not catch but one horse, so she hitched it to one side of the wagon tongue, and hauled a barrel of water. My father kids her today by saying, "You thought because you were just hauling one barrel of water one horse was sufficient." But my mother insists that was the one and only solution to her water problem. My father had to be away from home so much of the time, leaving her to keep the homefires burning alone, and it was lonesome for a woman to be left with just small children, miles and miles away from other people. Often she would sing to keep from getting lonesome and to drive the blues away.
In the early days, rocking chairs were as scarce as hen teeth as the saying goes and we had the only one in that neck of the woods for a long time. Thad Bushnell a cowboy at the ranch became ill, and when he was convalescing his mother, who was nursing him back to health borrowed the chair for him to sit up in. This chair is still one of the most treasured possessions in the household.
On July 3, 1891 my father started back to Stephen County to get a herd of horses he had left behind. In order to gain a few miles on the leg of his journey, he decided to spend the night with a neighbor. He carefully loaded his brood into the wagon and set out, stopping with Mr. Lewis Myres for the night. Mr. Myres had dug a double dugout, one part of which was completed and sheltered the family. That night a terrific rain came and filled the new dugout, which had not been covered, with water. About eleven o'clock, when all were dead to the world and the rain still coming in torrants, the water broke through the partition wall of the dugout. My father jumped out of bed in water knee deep. After fishing around for clothes, dripping wet, the rain still falling in sheets and the night so dark you could not see your hand in front of you, they loaded women and children into a two horse hack. The horses being out on the pasture, Doc Thornton took hold of the wagon tongue; my father grabbed one single tree; Mr. Myres the other and started down to Bill Pattersons, an old bachelor who was living down a claim in his dugout home. The only thing they had to guide them was a beaten out trail standing full of water which beamed like a white line when the lightning flashed and broke the impenetrable darkness. When we arrived at our destination, my father jumped upon the dugout door and yelled, "Get up, Bill, you have got company." Mr. Patterson got up and started a fire to dry our clothes. At day break the sky had cleared but it took most of the next day to dish things out of the water filled dugout, and it was three or four days before my father could leave for his horses.
Most of the land around Washburn had been filed on when my father came to the plains, and many men were batching in dugouts, while they lived out their claims. Our homestead was located twenty-two miles from Claude and on two occasions my father walked to town and returned the same day, walking a total distance of forty-four miles in one day.
I appreciate the fact that my parents were deeply religious, on Sunday evenings there wasn't any church services to attend, for it was long before preachers had ventured into this part of the world, they would get their little old song book and make the air ring, with their voices singing old religious hymns with no one to listen in but the skunks, the wild coyote and the prairie dog which is almost extinct now, but at that time their little towns were numerous. My father was the first superintendent of the Llano Sunday school in the little school house where we older children attended our first school with Miss Sue Hancock as teacher.
From 1890 to 1900 many of the very worst blizzards in the history of the Panhandle hit. On February 12, 1899 the thermometer dropped to twenty-three degrees below zero. Also in 1892 and again in 1895 a terrible blizzard came that resulted in the loss of livestock and other damages. We could walk over the drifts of snow that covered the yard fence.
My father would get lost easily when it would be necessary for him to be away from home at nights and occasionally in the day time, as there was nothing in sight to make his way. At night my mother would put a light in the window or hang a light outside the house to guide him home. Often there would be a dense fog and it would be impossible for him to see the light, and sometimes on a clear night he would miss his course. He would drive a distance and call, then drive a little farther and call again until she would answer him. When my mother was expecting him to return at night she would always listen for his call or when he got close enough to hear him whistling, "Buffalo Gals Won't You Come Out To Night" or some other old time tune, she would guide him home. One time when she was not expecting him, he heard her singing and located the house.
My parents moved to Claude in 1885 where we children could have better school advantages, where my father worked at the blacksmith trade for four years. He sold his shop in 1899 and moved to a farm one mile north of Claude where they live today. He was tax assessor for eight years and farmed at the same time. Since he quit public life he has farmed. My father is 83 years old, he still farms a part of his ground, and drives his car. My mother is 75 years old. They are both quite active. They have watched the plains grow from a few hundred in population to several hundred thousand with much interest and still take a great interest in any thing on the Texas plains where comforts were few and hardships were many in early days, and it took all the courage they had to stay. It was hard living and lonesome, yet, they have some happy memories of those days.
July 1939
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