Chapter Thirty Five: Late 1921 and Baby Arrives

Editor’s note: Late 1921 we find Pearl and Frank becoming parents, with all the joy that brings.  There is a “butchering the hog” happening in the days following Mildred’s birth, surprisingly.  Then, the stories of a young couple living nearby and sharing some evenings together. Also, some recollections of trading automobiles and the radio being quite a novelty in 1922 are noted.  This chapter ends with Frank recalling, with some anger and sadness,  a couple of painful life experiences and of young Pearl’s wise response. Enjoy. RAN

 

                                                                 Baby arrives!

     Soon the month of December came, and we began to look for our baby to make its appearance.  Frank had planned to go and get Mrs. Edna Owens when the time was right, then race in our little jitney over to Mr. Bassinger’s telephone, a mile away, to call Dr Fuqua when we were about to experience an event. 

Finally, the day arrived, or rather, the night: about 12 midnight.  Frank left me alone for a very few minutes, to go and get Edna.  We had seen each other almost every day for the past week or so; consequently, she was alerted and soon dressed, ready to go.  Frank, in turn, hand-cranked the car and drove quickly to Bassingers.  I’m not sure that family had been alerted, but possibly so, as the men met at the blacksmith shop in Hollister where all the news of the neighborhood was discussed. Frank probably dropped a hint to Mr. B. that he might wake him up sometime soon to use the telephone.

 

 

       (Frank was playing out a scenario that would be repeated six times in our life together, generally by the same pattern: go and get the neighbor woman to help with the delivery; in a country home in each case; ten to twelve miles away from town; call a doctor from this town, and so on!)

    While we awaited the doctor’s arrival, we all, each in our own way, experienced tension and anxiety.  Pain, for me, was not so severe, so when Dr. Fuqua arrived on the scene, he soon discovered by examination that I needed a booster shot to increase the intensity of the action going on within my body.  He spoke friendly, and soon recognized me as the daughter of Pete Thornton whom he had known along with other members of the Thornton family for many years.                                                                                  

     Giving birth to a baby for the first time for a seventeen-year-old (Ed. note: Pearl will turn 17 in January), is a slow and tedious process, so the hours crept by slowly on that early morning of December 11, 1921.   At 4:00 a.m., however, I  delivered a daughter, heard her first cry, and felt the relief of the burden I had been carrying for these months.  Edna soon had her washed and dressed, the doctor had gone after seeing that all was well with the two of us.  Edna put the baby in the bed with me, then stayed on to see after the baby and me.  She got Frank a bite of breakfast before she made her way home to make breakfast for her family.  Soon, Edna returned, however, to stay with me while Frank did the milking and other chores before going for Mandy, who was to spend a few days with us.

     Mildred Viola Noel was the most beautiful baby daughter that any mother ever had.  She weighed nine pounds, but appeared rather short.  Everyone was proud of her, especially her daddy and mama; but I must not forget her grandpa.  She was always special to him, as she was the first grandchild.  By the time she was three days old, I was feeling great, but they wouldn’t let me up for another week.  So, I would lie there in bed and sing to Mildred.  I’ll swear that she smiled as she heard my singing!  I certainly started something, as I continued to sing to her until she was school-age!

   All of our relatives came to see us during that week.  Men came to help Frank with butchering the hog; the girls helped Mandy with lard and sausage making.  I can see Mandy yet, as she came to the kitchen door, holding up a beautiful white dish towel which I had suggested that she used to strain the lard.  “It’s so pretty and white”, she said, “I hate to use it”.  I assured her it was alright, and besides, it was the only thing I had that was suitable.  Did I ever get out of a job!  No one was luckier than I!  And no one happier!

Ed. note: The following link provides a short description of some aspects of “butchering the hog”  done in the past on Southern and mid-west farms and how it was a community event.  I recall once in 1946  at our farm home, when I was six years old.  The hams were wrapped up in brown sugar, and hung in the “wash house” for curing.   The “cracklings” were tasty crunchy pieces of fat or skin, skimmed off the surface of liquid of melting fat, which was bubbling in the large, cast iron pot in our back yard over a wood fire.  This fat was very useful as lard for cooking and also, for making lye soap. RAN

https://www.onlineathens.com/story/news/2021/12/02/tradition-hog-killings-brought-communities-together-old-days/8807528002/

     The Sunday that little Mildred Viola was one week old, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Hammonds came to see us.  They lived across the road from Rita School, a mile from our home at the Thorntons.  I had had many good talks with Miss Eula as she was known, for she was open and frank, a very understanding person.  They “oo-ed and ah-ed” over the baby and told us that Dee and Eunice, Tom’s youngest brother, had a baby girl born the same day Mildred was.  Her name was Gay Nell Hammonds.  The two little girls grew up in the same general area, but never became closely associated; however, they were well aware that they were “twins” which they mentioned frequently.  They were friends because their families were always friendly.

     Other visitors on that Sunday afternoon were Sylvia and Malvin Richardson.  Malvin and his brother Albert boarded with Papa and Mama Betty just after I married.  Sylvia’s maiden name was Sandifur, and I had not known her before.  The family lived near the Sanford School, toward Davidson.  They had been married just a short time.  Frank and Malvin became acquainted at Papa’s.  My folks may not have come on that day, as they had visited during the week. That day, by the way, was my little brother, Arthur’s seventh birthday. 

                                                             Meeting Mr. Staley

Some weeks before our baby came, Mr. Joe Staley came by to see Frank, offering him a job in the oil field near Burkburnett, Texas.  I suppose he saw Frank and a little new wife in this shack of a house, eking out a living on this Indian lease, and surmising that they deserved a better life, asked him to come to work as an old well pumper on an oil lease.  We would have to live out there in what was known as a tar paper shack of two rooms, but what a tremendous amount of money could be made there!  Frank reasoned it thus: we could stay at that job for a few years and save enough money to buy a farm.  Living expenses were high, to be sure,  but he didn’t see why we wouldn’t be able to put up a good sum of money each month of the year.  He talked it over with his folks and mine and the Richardson boys, also.  Frank was so sure he would take the job that he rented our lease to Malvin on the halves, as we owned the stock, the plow tools, and the feed for the mules.  They would live in our little “honeymoon cottage” and take care of everything as if it were their own.  

Ed. note:  Photos of the Burkburnett oil fields and small houses nearby. RAN

However, these plans failed to materialize.  At some point, Frank decided against the oil field job.  He began to visualize all of the conditions in that lifestyle, and decided he didn’t want to take this little family to a place of that kind.  Well then, what about the lease?  He had already rented it to Malvin, and he was depending on the deal for our livelihood for the coming year.  What will happen, now?

                                      Building a box house in one day!

      Frank decided that the best way out of that dilemma was to go ahead and let Malvin rent the place on the halves, and as there was no place for them to live, he would build a new, two-room “box house”.  He would locate it just the other side of the barn, at the cost of roughly $100.  The house would be a fourteen feet by twenty-eight feet structure.  So the house was built!  All men helped: brother, brother-in-law, and some neighbors, probably, pitched in to help at the time the walls were raised.  For, you see, in building a “box-type” house, the walls are put together on the ground, then raised to the location.  They are then tied at the corners and then came the floor, the roof, the openings, and partitions.  This was all done in a day; the finishing of the house with two doors and four windows came the next day.  The cracks between the 12-inch boards must be stripped with boards one inch by four inches.  After the overhead ceiling was put into place, the walls were covered with heavy building paper, making a cozy home of the “box house”.  All was well with both parties.   So, Frank, Mildred, and I stayed in our little house while the Richardsons enjoyed a brand-new “honeymoon cottage”.

     Living near the Richardsons for a year forged friendly ties that still remain, after the passing of these many, many years!  Outstanding in our experiences there were the long winter evenings we spent together reading aloud as we sat around the roaring fire in the coal heater.  Sylvia and I would take turns reading, the boys would make popcorn, and Sylvia would bring homemade candy.  We also took our turns as hosts, but more frequently they came to our house because at times the weather would not permit carrying the baby out in the cold.

     Sometime in the spring of 1922, Dr. Wright of Grandfield was summoned to the Richardson home as Sylvia, now expecting a baby, sadly suffered a miscarriage.  I recall a high, south wind, made driving and walking disagreeable, but I walked over, carrying Mildred, to offer my help.  Of course, moral support is important at such times.  I sorrowed with Malvin and Sylvia as the verdict came; the fetuses were developed sufficiently to determine that they were twins, but obviously, conditions did not allow the development of the babies to full term. 

The Richardsons didn’t have a milk cow or chickens. But we shared with them.  Sylvia did pay me a few cents for the eggs, which I might not have recalled, but for the time that she gave me some money for the eggs, I handed the change, which contained a dime that slipped from her fingers and rolled through a crack in my kitchen floor!  That fall we bought some economical linoleum to make the floor warmer for the crawling baby and to cover cracks.

 

     In recalling that year of 1922, I am made to wonder what Frank did with his time, as obviously, Malvin was doing the farm work, or most of it.  Frank may have plowed, with the mule team, while Malvin chopped the cotton, perhaps with his brother’s help, as Albert was around some of the time.  And, too, Frank may have gone to his shop in the old building near Mama’s and Papa’s home to work on the neighbors’ cars.  At any rate, the year passed, with Malvin locating a farm to rent in the general area.  Following the Owens’ stay as our neighbors, the Orb Hurleys, another pair of newlyweds moved where the Owens had lived.  And, oh yes, Albert Richardson courted Sylvia’s cousin, Era Sander of Davidson, Oklahoma and they were married about the time Sylvia and Malvin moved away.

     I recall one day that spring or summer when Era Sander was visiting Sylvia and we all decided to drive to Frederick.  Frank was driving and Malvin was sitting in the front, while the three of us girls with Mildred, the baby, riding in the back seat.  Era began telling us of a weather forecast they heard in Davidson.  It seemed to be rather imminent, so one of us asked if the news came by telegram.  “No”, she said, “they heard it on the radio;  had we heard about the radio?” We had heard about radios, vaguely, but barely even knew they were in use.  That year was 1922.  In the fall, however, the Luther Hollers family bought a radio.  We visited them once to hear it, but not exactly to our satisfaction.  It would be some fourteen years before we would own a radio.

           Ed.  note: Image of 1922 console radio. It was a piece of furniture! RAN

  In the summer of 1922, maybe early fall, Frank traded our “Overland” car for a later Model T Ford.  Frank had earlier traded his high-powered pump shotgun for Tom Hammond’s Overland automobile.

  I recall the pleasant fall afternoon as we drove down to see the folks, we communicated our thankfulness for the much better way of transportation of that time.

Ed. note: The photo above left is a 1913 Overland touring car, similar to the one mentioned.  Frank upgraded to something like this neat “later model” Ford Model T.   RAN   

Frank’s painful memories and their resolution

Ed.note: For context to this following section, some history:

 Frank’s father, Jim Noel, married Frank’s mother, Mandy Long in 1893, in Erath County, Texas.  Nineteen year old Mandy was divorced, after a brief marriage, from an unfaithful, alcohol abusing husband (McClung).  She had a 2 year old daughter, Ethel McClung.  Frank was born in 1894.  So, Jim treated Ethel as his own daughter, and Frank always loved his big sister, Ethel.  This following narrative speaks of a strongly disliked, unnamed man who moved from Texas along with the Noels. No clear relationship is stated, but possibly some  business relationship.  There was evidently some negative history associated with him, possibly some dishonest or illegal dealings involving cheating Jim, in the past. Frank had this impression, calling him a “crook”.  Ten years before, Jim had become quite ill with “typhoid fever”.  He lingered for a few weeks and on October 22, 1911, Jim died at the age of 48.  This unnamed man even visited Jim while he lay dying. Frank was 17 years old when this visit occurred.  Jim’s death left widow Mandy with seven children living at home.  

Ethel, his step-daughter, who lived nearby, is now married and 20 years old.  Very soon after Jim’s death, she became ill with “catarrh”, and died Nov. 24, 1911.  Frank and next oldest, John Austin, 15, had to take over providing for the large family on the farm.  Then 5 years later,  Frank married Lola Bowman.  As we know, Lola, while expecting a baby, tragically died from Spanish Flu in February, 1920.  Now, we fast forward to this following narrative in 1922.  Frank Noel is 28 and has suffered a host of tragic losses, and carries many scars, some unresolved grief and anger. RAN

Early in the spring or later winter of 1922, one cold evening Frank came home from Davidson very upset and depressed.  It soon surfaced, by what means I’m not sure,  but he began to tell me of an incident that occurred in Davidson that afternoon.  He was standing, talking to some other men while he leaned against a plate glass window of a storefront.  The man with whom they had moved to Oklahoma, came out of the store and said to Frank, “You better be careful about leaning against that window; you might break it and you’d have to pay for it!”  Coming from this man who Frank classed a crook, he just couldn’t take it!  So, Frank turned on the man with all vengeance and began calling him names, calling curses down upon him without restraint.  The man began with, “Now, now Frank, I didn’t mean anything by that remark-just joking…”. But Frank didn’t stop until the man had moved quickly away.

Ed. note: Photo approx. 1906 of Ethel, age 15 and step-father Jim Noel, age 43.

     Frank still remembered when his father lay dying some ten years before as this man came to the sick bed and began to talk to Jim, who responded to him with cursing, even though he was barely able to raise up on his elbow to speak the words.  However, according to Mandy, Jim was not really filled with hatred for the man.  He had remarked to her sometime that summer that a man can’t hold to rules such as this, explaining that they “might do to live by, but they won’t do to die by”.  It was as if he sensed an omen of his impending death. [Ed. note: “rules”:possibly meant holding a grudge, carrying resentment; much better to forgive.RAN] 

      But, nothing would console Frank, nor settle him down.  I caressed him and reminded him that it wasn’t worthwhile to worry about the past; now that we had each other and our little baby girl we could be happy.  But then he stormed at me, saying that he couldn’t be happy, that he didn’t love me as he had loved Lola-he just thought he did, recalling all of the disappointments and failures of his past life.  He even brought up the loss of his four workhorses from “blind staggers” (before Lola died, he refused her comfort).  All this rolled into one vast, dark, overhanging cloud!  I finally realized that nothing I could say or do would overcome the dark mood in which he found himself.  So, I gave up and turned my mind to brighter and more pleasant thoughts.  I was (am) an incurable optimist, after all!  And maybe, it paid off!  

     A few years later Frank said to me that he doubted if he and Lola could have lived together if she hadn’t died.  Then, he related an incident that winter before her death.  They were having a quarrel about something, so he left the house in a huff.  He slammed the door behind him, but she came out immediately, gingerly, bringing his “spit can”  which she threw at him and told him to “take this, too.”  The outrage he poured out upon me was the second in the first year of our marriage, but it was the last!  It never happened again!

Ed. note: In Chapter 36 we will learn about the Chateau School community near Pearl’s home.  We hear of some family’s Pentecostal religion, Mandy, breaking her leg jumping from a car, and of some enriching activities in their rural community. RAN