Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Interview with Thomas Adam Yeackley
This Interview was sent to me by his Grandaughter Linda at LindMrrs@aol.com. She states that "This is an interview with my grandfather Thomas Adam Yeckley,(born Nov. 1891)son of Oscar B. Yeckley and Emma Gertrude Baker. This interview was conducted in September 1973 by a student who lived down the street from my grandfather."
Thomas said, "There were five boys and four girls in our family. Some died young. One brother and two sisters died. I was born in a dug-out in Greer County. At that time Greer County was in Texas, later becoming a part of Oklahoma. The dug-out was in a creek bank by the Navaho Mountains (they now call them the Wichita Mountains). It was a pretty little creek and never over flowed. There was an arbor built out of willows at the front of the dug-out. The willows made a good shade and we cooked and ate there. When I was born my grandmother Yeckley (Mary Elizabeth Nash ) delivered me. We were fifty miles from no where. As long as my grandmother lived, she was with us.
My father (Oscar) was born in California. His grandfather had gone there from Pennsylvania to look for gold. He had no luck and when he died the family moved to Utah and when they left there to come to Greer County to homestead they brought a herd of sheep with them. The Indians used to come by the dug-out sometimes and ask for mutton and my mother or grandmother always gave it to them.
My Dad (Oscar) decided to get rid of the sheep and raise Mustang ponies to sell. They were mean. They could bite you and paw at your at the same time. We had a garden and chickens and two milk cows the and later when we moved.
They opened up Kiowa country in 1901. Texas allowed any man aged 21 or a widow to homestead a half section—that’s three hundred and twenty acres. I was 10 then. We moved there and my Dad and grandmother homesteaded a section. Dad built a house right on the dividing line because you had to live on your homestead.
Dad had given up raising Mustangs and started raising cattle. We kept Mustangs to herd cattle with though. Dad set the girls and boys alike to chopping trees for wood for the house, and fences and wood to burn. He dern near worked us kids to death. We sowed wheat and put up hay on that place too. We had a lot of tallow and the women folks made lye soap and candles with it. We were still near the mountains. About half way up our mountain there was a spring and that’s where my mother and grandmother did the wash—used their home-made soap. There were a lot of currant bushes around the spring and they spread the clothes over them to dry. Anyone for miles around would know when it was our wash day. It looked as if the whole mountain was covered with clothes.
We had a one room school there and one teacher taught first to eighth grades. Some rode horses, some came in buggies, but we walked to school. We were only about a half mile away. The girls got to go to school more because they didn’t have so much work to do.
We didn’t celebrate holidays at home, but every Fourth of July there was a big picnic at Granite, Oklahoma. It lasted three or four days. My Dad love to get out and go and w always went to that picnic. Hitched up the wagon, a Schooner wagon it was, put on the bows and the wagon sheets, put in a stove and some beds, and away we’d go. People didn’t think anything of going thirty or forty miles to a shin-dig. There was a park on the east side of the mountain at Granite. Everybody gathered there and had fun. They pitched horse shoes and had square dances. Kids tried to catch a greased pig and that was fun. They’d grease a pole that had a dollar fastened on top (that was a lot of money then). Some kids actually got it by rolling in the sand and climbing the pole before the sand fell off them. There were lemonade stands there and you could get a bit glass for, I guess, maybe a nickel. We saw people we knew for thirty or forty miles around and just visited for three or four days. Dad liked to go camping in the summer anyway. We didn’t shoot Roman Candles on the Fourth of July, but we did at Christmas. We sometimes set the whole prairie afire and they had to stop all that.
The Navaho Mountains were beautiful. Cedars grew on the mountain and all around the creek that came down from the mountains were oaks and elms. There were diamondback rattlesnakes around the bottom part of the mountain. You sure had to stay away from these. They were thick as the hair on a dog’s back. My Dad had to kill rattlers on occasion. He killed a nine foot panther once. There were wolves and coyotes, too.
When I was a good sized boy we left the homestead and moved to Okemah. We drove fifty head of cattle and took two schooner wagons. Mother drove one and Dad drove one. We settled on land we leased from the Creek Indians—built a house and fenced the place to keep the cattle in. We tried to go to school that winder, but it was five miles away and the snows were bad that year. We all had chills and fever. One sister, and one brother, and my grandmother died of malaria that winter. The neighbors built coffins for our dead. WE had never been around churches, but there was a parson who conducted burial services for each member of our family that died. We lost all of the cattle that winter, too.
There is no way to compare a family of today with ours then. We all felt very close. We had to be. We depended on each other. People visited one another for several days at a time. I don’t believe people like each other as much as they use to".
##
The following was written by the student who interviewed my grandfather.
The most important rule in Tom’s family seemed to be “we’ll work together to survive”. That would make for a close-knit family. It seems to me the social disorganization of this type family came about when there was no need to work together to survive. The family today nourishes the community, with it’s members contributing time and money to promoting and preserving an interest in art, music, education, theater, religion, civic projects, all cultural values. Perhaps reorganization is centered around these services.
Thomas said, "There were five boys and four girls in our family. Some died young. One brother and two sisters died. I was born in a dug-out in Greer County. At that time Greer County was in Texas, later becoming a part of Oklahoma. The dug-out was in a creek bank by the Navaho Mountains (they now call them the Wichita Mountains). It was a pretty little creek and never over flowed. There was an arbor built out of willows at the front of the dug-out. The willows made a good shade and we cooked and ate there. When I was born my grandmother Yeckley (Mary Elizabeth Nash ) delivered me. We were fifty miles from no where. As long as my grandmother lived, she was with us.
My father (Oscar) was born in California. His grandfather had gone there from Pennsylvania to look for gold. He had no luck and when he died the family moved to Utah and when they left there to come to Greer County to homestead they brought a herd of sheep with them. The Indians used to come by the dug-out sometimes and ask for mutton and my mother or grandmother always gave it to them.
My Dad (Oscar) decided to get rid of the sheep and raise Mustang ponies to sell. They were mean. They could bite you and paw at your at the same time. We had a garden and chickens and two milk cows the and later when we moved.
They opened up Kiowa country in 1901. Texas allowed any man aged 21 or a widow to homestead a half section—that’s three hundred and twenty acres. I was 10 then. We moved there and my Dad and grandmother homesteaded a section. Dad built a house right on the dividing line because you had to live on your homestead.
Dad had given up raising Mustangs and started raising cattle. We kept Mustangs to herd cattle with though. Dad set the girls and boys alike to chopping trees for wood for the house, and fences and wood to burn. He dern near worked us kids to death. We sowed wheat and put up hay on that place too. We had a lot of tallow and the women folks made lye soap and candles with it. We were still near the mountains. About half way up our mountain there was a spring and that’s where my mother and grandmother did the wash—used their home-made soap. There were a lot of currant bushes around the spring and they spread the clothes over them to dry. Anyone for miles around would know when it was our wash day. It looked as if the whole mountain was covered with clothes.
We had a one room school there and one teacher taught first to eighth grades. Some rode horses, some came in buggies, but we walked to school. We were only about a half mile away. The girls got to go to school more because they didn’t have so much work to do.
We didn’t celebrate holidays at home, but every Fourth of July there was a big picnic at Granite, Oklahoma. It lasted three or four days. My Dad love to get out and go and w always went to that picnic. Hitched up the wagon, a Schooner wagon it was, put on the bows and the wagon sheets, put in a stove and some beds, and away we’d go. People didn’t think anything of going thirty or forty miles to a shin-dig. There was a park on the east side of the mountain at Granite. Everybody gathered there and had fun. They pitched horse shoes and had square dances. Kids tried to catch a greased pig and that was fun. They’d grease a pole that had a dollar fastened on top (that was a lot of money then). Some kids actually got it by rolling in the sand and climbing the pole before the sand fell off them. There were lemonade stands there and you could get a bit glass for, I guess, maybe a nickel. We saw people we knew for thirty or forty miles around and just visited for three or four days. Dad liked to go camping in the summer anyway. We didn’t shoot Roman Candles on the Fourth of July, but we did at Christmas. We sometimes set the whole prairie afire and they had to stop all that.
The Navaho Mountains were beautiful. Cedars grew on the mountain and all around the creek that came down from the mountains were oaks and elms. There were diamondback rattlesnakes around the bottom part of the mountain. You sure had to stay away from these. They were thick as the hair on a dog’s back. My Dad had to kill rattlers on occasion. He killed a nine foot panther once. There were wolves and coyotes, too.
When I was a good sized boy we left the homestead and moved to Okemah. We drove fifty head of cattle and took two schooner wagons. Mother drove one and Dad drove one. We settled on land we leased from the Creek Indians—built a house and fenced the place to keep the cattle in. We tried to go to school that winder, but it was five miles away and the snows were bad that year. We all had chills and fever. One sister, and one brother, and my grandmother died of malaria that winter. The neighbors built coffins for our dead. WE had never been around churches, but there was a parson who conducted burial services for each member of our family that died. We lost all of the cattle that winter, too.
There is no way to compare a family of today with ours then. We all felt very close. We had to be. We depended on each other. People visited one another for several days at a time. I don’t believe people like each other as much as they use to".
##
The following was written by the student who interviewed my grandfather.
The most important rule in Tom’s family seemed to be “we’ll work together to survive”. That would make for a close-knit family. It seems to me the social disorganization of this type family came about when there was no need to work together to survive. The family today nourishes the community, with it’s members contributing time and money to promoting and preserving an interest in art, music, education, theater, religion, civic projects, all cultural values. Perhaps reorganization is centered around these services.
