Editor’s note: Pearl is on the threshold of a remarkable new adventure with the close of 1920 and the dawning of a fresh new year. Although just 10 days short of turning 16, she will joyfully marry Frank Noel and leave behind being “one of the kids”, as she often referred to herself. Pearl now enters the life of a wife and support to her new husband, Frank, in rural southwest Oklahoma farm country. Enjoy. RAN
About Thanksgiving, I decided to quit school. I was disappointed in school in the first place, and, too, poor old Papa was picking cotton in the field by himself. Either he couldn’t get any help, or the crop was so poor that year he decided to do it himself, with Billy and me helping him on Saturdays. Papa didn’t object when I announced to the family that I was quitting school. Frank was pleased with the idea, too, as I recall. I had still held out that I planned to continue my education which caused some doubts about my interest in him.
Soon after that, he broached the subject of an early marriage. He didn’t have much money. He and Austin had made some agreement on the proceeds of the farm that he would receive, and he earned a few dollars doing repairs on the neighbors’ cars, putting into practice the skills he had acquired at Automobile School. Frank reasoned that it was just taking money for our dates which we could use to live on if we were married. He had all of the housewares we would need and the small house up on the road on a lease rented by Austin that could be remodeled some. The talk, at first, was that Frank would need his house as we were planning to marry soon. Lillie, Austin’s wife, was hurt and disappointed. So, she voiced her objection to that arrangement. Frank was understanding, so he and Austin decided to trade Indian leases, as the two places were about equal in value; as a matter of fact, both boys agreed that the lease Frank traded for was probably stronger land and was not cut up by a creek, therefore, having no side hills to farm. The small, two-room house was just a shell, but Papa’s cousin, Lem Toby, in Grandfield, a former building contractor, had a few building supplies on hand. Papa bargained with him for them. With these supplies, the house was made into a comfortable little home, after our marriage.
This Lem Roby was a cousin by marriage. His wife, Annie, is a daughter of Uncle “Bud” Ware, as we recall in the Ware history section. They were parents of four sons. I recall two of them: John, who never married and filled an early grave, and Calvin, who worked for movie theaters in Grandfield. He worked in the projection room during his high school years. Annie, their mother, died in the Spring of 1924. I don’t have a record of Lem Roby’s death. The other two sons and their given names are lost to memory.
Frank, Viola, Lona, and I continued to go to Frederick to the Saturday night movies in the open touring car, the Model T. There were three movie houses in Frederick at that time. There was the Gem, another I cannot recall, and the “A-mus-u”, the newer theater in the city. We preferred it above the others, enjoying the serials it carried, as well as the news and short subjects. We girls never forgot how cold those drives were to the county seat, Frederick, on those winter evenings!
Christmas, 1920, rolled around, and Frank bought me a ring, a gold wedding band. He took my size to be sure the ring would fit. We were well aware that wedding bands were to be put on the bride’s finger at the marriage ceremony, but Frank Noel chose to do it this way for some reason. He put it on my finger on our date on Christmas Eve. I still remember the ditty he would recite when the subject of marriage was mentioned between us:
“We’ll get a little golden band,
And take it to the preacher man,
And make the preacher understand,
All about the golden band!”
The ring did indicate that we planned to be married, and soon.
Recalling Mama’s wedding band, this image above is quite similar. When I was 14 or 15 years old, I recall she wore the ring through, it broke and it needed repairing, it was so thin. That may not have been the first repair, but I believe it was the original “golden band” mentioned in our story.
Papa and Mama didn’t say much. But a day or two following, Frank and I faced Papa with the question when Frank asked for my hand in marriage. Papa said “Yes”, but made us understand, emphatically, that he did not want us to elope. Frank assured him that we never had planned it in that way. But, tears came into Papa’s eyes while he said to me, “ I hate to see you marry so young. Your mother was sixteen when we married. I loved her, but she didn’t understand.” I never knew that they had serious differences between them, but I suppose I was too young to detect any such problems. I understand that my mother’s problems were caused by her mental illness.
Wedding Day
Following Papa’s consent to our marriage, there seemed to be no reason to wait longer for the wedding. It was winter, the time of the year for farmers to begin to work their land preparatory to planting the next crop. We all talked over the possibilities and probabilities confronting all the families involved, and we decided upon January 17, 1921, as our wedding date. Papa consulted Rev. George P. Drake, pastor of the Grandfield Baptist Church, about his performing the ceremony. The arrangement was that the wedding would be in the Baptist parsonage in Grandfield, Oklahoma, on the afternoon of Monday, January 17, 1921, ten days before my sixteenth birthday.
The day that greeted us was cold and cloudy, I recall some misty rain in portions of that day. I would be married in my middy dress, of Navy blue wool, square collar with the stripes and stars of the Navy. The satin bow was knotted and fastened at the point of the V-shaped neck, filled in with a triangle of the same material trimmed with a white star in the center. Pleats hung from the pointed yoke, held in place with a two-inch belt, encircling the waist, fastened with the same buttons that decorated the double-breasted dress. These middy dresses were quite popular, and the high-top laced shoes with the baby doll high heels were new for that winter. Frank’s suit was Navy, also, in the herringbone weave. He wore a white shirt and a wide silk tie of Navy and white with a touch of red in the diagonally striped pattern.
I asked Viola to accompany us to that most important event, but she said, “No”; after all, we were getting married without her blessing! So, Papa went with us, serving as one of the witnesses. Mrs. George P. Drake was the other. The knot was tied! Zula Pearl Thornton was not Thornton anymore, but now, Zula Pearl Noel! And Frank Noel has just acquired a new girl-wife!
Frank and I stayed a couple of days at my family home, paying visits to the Noels, back and forth. Then, Frank decided it would be more convenient to stay at his mother Mandy’s home where he had lived since Lola died, nearly a year before. Of course, there were tears, along with the joys; Austin tried to be neutral, but it wasn’t easy as Lillie was experiencing so much sorrow and pain, losing her sister so recently. Mandy and the youngsters were happy. David, now eleven, slipped quietly to his mother’s side and asked her if he and Billy were kin, now that Frank and I were married! He never lived that childish question down-he was teased so much, for so long!
Frank and Papa began making plans to repair our “Little Grey Home in the West”. As the winter weather delayed farm work, the men made rapid progress in getting the work done on the house. I remember Lillie and I took food to the men on two occasions, and we spread a picnic lunch together. Lillie made the best of this disappointing situation, happy that she was not forced to move into this little shack, and not having to leave the better home on the other lease. I was too happy, in my newfound love, to care. The future looked rosy for Frank and me with our love and commitment to one another.
around the time of their marriage or in the year following.
A shadow came over the brightness of the sun, however, one that would not be erased for many years. On the anniversary of Lola’s death, on February 11, Papa and Mama, and the boys decided to drive down to Randlett to visit all the relatives. They would spend a couple of nights and ask if Frank and I would take care of the livestock and stay in the house. Frank and I drove over on that cloudy, gloomy winter evening to get the cows milked and the animals fed before nightfall. We must throw out some grain for the chickens and gather the eggs. The folks would return early evening on Sunday.
As we drove the mile from Mandy’s home, Frank whistled a “blues” song, which would be his practice for some years to come. I felt a pall of doubt and fear envelope me as Frank seemed detached from me, a gulf separating us that I had not felt since our relationship began. We arrived at the house and he was quiet, as though he was thinking to himself. We had not mentioned during the day that this was the anniversary of Lola’s death. But now, one of us did-I don’t recall just which one. At any rate, Frank began to express his innermost feelings of ‘the love’. He had never forgotten Lola, he began, and never wanted to forget her. He still loved her. Instead of letting him continue, I began trying to reason with him, as his mood was very depressing. I pointed out that now he has me to love, he didn’t have to feel lonely and long for her. Well, that was the wrong thing for me to say! He said he never loved me as he had loved Lola; he just thought he did, and there would never be any other person he loved as he loved Lola. Of course, that was a harsh, cruel thing to announce to his young bride of three weeks!
I think he cried a little, then we went into the house that was still warm. Just some coal was added to the hot embers in the pot-belly coal stove, and that was all that was necessary to get the fire going. Also, we stirred up the coals in the coal-burning range so that we could prepare our supper. We never recalled or relived those few moments in which he made the sad disclosure to me, but I realized then, that to a degree, I would live in the shadow of the first wife all of the days of our life together. I learned to overlook the gloomy moods and I honestly believe that he didn’t intend to hurt me, nor was he even aware that my response was an act of sympathy and understanding.
He was a strong and wonderful person, possessing all the attributes that I have named heretofore. But, he was the leader whose judgment was not to be questioned. He was not unkind but firm and unbending, fair to all of us, with a pride that was easily wounded.
For example, if I protested some decision strongly enough, he would become angry, feeling that he had lost his power as the leader. Then he would begin to berate himself, almost to “curse” himself, saying he was worth nothing, should never have been born! Moving into the discussion of his being poor, he would state his inability to provide as well as other men until I fervently wished that I had not opposed him! I hear that other men take that attitude! So what?
A “nutshell” detour: Frank’s strong leading, Pearl’s few “wins” in her words.
What I will discuss next may be a bit premature in this part of the story, but it will put what I have just described into a ‘nutshell’. With Frank Noel, I never had my way but twice, well, three times. Once, when our fourth child [Ed. note: Tom Royce-“Rusty.”] was a baby, in the eleventh year of our marriage, I was doing the laundry out by the side of the house when Papa came over and said Mama was sick in bed. And he and the younger brother needed me. I would have to spend the night so as to prepare their meals and help take care of Mama who was somewhat delirious with a high fever. She called it a “bilious attack,” but in our day of scientific research, I would likely diagnose it as a “viral” attack.
I stopped the laundry, bundled up the baby, and went with Papa, leaving the household in the hands of Mandy, Frank’s mother now living with us, and Mildred, our first child, who was ten. I spent the night and the next day until afternoon when Mama decided she could manage the three of them. When I returned home, some fresh water, needed for washing the clothes yet unwashed, must be heated. Then, back to the washboard for shirts and overalls, the heavy remaining wash. I was angry! Mandy had probably remarked that if only I had a washing machine, the wash could have been done by the time Papa came for me the day before.
Ed. note: Credit to fine Art America image. Mama’s was gas powered. This one is electric powered. The date for this model is 1931. RAN
She likely had strengthened the groundwork for what I was about to say. So, here it came! I said, “We have to get a washing machine!” Frank began his argument by saying we couldn’t afford it, but my rebuttal was, “Yes, but Mrs. Payne, the agent for ‘Maytag’ said we could pay it out by reasonable payments!” I was so determined that he acquiesced and agreed to go to the neighbor’s telephone and call Mrs. Payne in Tipton, Oklahoma, some 40 miles away. In due time, a day or two, she came and brought a new gasoline-powered washer, so beautiful and so helpful. And I won!
I didn’t really get “heady” on winning the round in the washing machine battle, and everything went on as usual. In 1941, some ten years later, we were still on the same Indian lease, but the old house, built in 1908, was rotting down underneath. Large rats could creep into the house by just gnawing holes in the rotted floorboards. Some five years prior to this time, when a new bid was made on the land, Frank put in for a new house. The construction of the house would be a portion of the rent for the use of the land. This was termed an “improvement bid”. We had had the “improvement bid” before this, but due to the depression years and poor crops, the new house could not be built. So, it would have to be paid for in cash. It seemed to me that a better house was not one of Frank’s priorities, but that was unfair reasoning on my part; he did care, as he had tried to get a better house, but with hard times and our family increasing, it had been impossible. We now had seven children, one married, the youngest, a year and a half old. The new house was to be built that fall or forfeit the improvement bid again. Frank had learned to raise better crops with the use of tractors and fertilizers. Also, he had been raising alfalfa for some eight years, which was really paying off in the sale of the alfalfa seed. We had just sold $2,500 in alfalfa seed early that fall.
Frank came in and sat down at the end of the dining table where I was cutting out a little school dress for a daughter just starting school. [Ed. note: 6-year-old Jean Ladoyce, 5th child, second daughter] The material was ‘percale’, but it was in three pieces, as it was cut from 25 lb. flour sacks, washed, and pressed. I had to pick and choose to get enough material to make a dress when buying sacks of flour. Frank had come in to tell me of his latest decision. He said we would forgo the new house and save our money for use on a land payment when something became available. That was a blow to me! I felt a little sorry for myself, I know, as I was as careful as I could be with spending; right now, I was using my ingenuity to put a little dress together with practically no cost! And Frank was backing out of building a new house for us! I looked at him and reviewed, in detail, why we needed the house built. The final speech was, “We’re going to build that house! We have enough, and more, out of that alfalfa seed to pay for it.” Frank said, “Alright.” He said he would call Henry Hefner to come down and give us an estimate of the cost. And, the house was built!
The third victory I had was five or six years later when we were in an argument about my going to church so much. It seemed to be there was something at the church continuously. But, we had young people in our home, and neighbor homes had young people who were a vital part of our church and community. I drove our old 1937 pickup. Many young people rode in the back, singing, and having a joyful time. I couldn’t stop, nor even cut down on the work. I had a problem finding words to defend my cause. So, I said, “Frank, you are asking me to choose between you and God!” That ended the argument!
Frank Noel was called “mean” by some of his hired help, as I heard by the “grapevine,” but not by friends and businessmen; he was known for his honesty, integrity, and fairness in dealing with everyone. He had such a distinct sense of urgency in making an honest living, never losing the hope that we would “make it” someday! He never ceased working toward that goal.
Ed. note: The first year of marriage is the subject of Chapter 34. Settling in, learning to take care of a husband with cooking, managing the home, and getting to know neighbors. And expecting a baby is an interesting new chapter for Pearl and Frank. Stay tuned. RAN