[This comes from a 3rd-person narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Watching the news now about the havoc that Hurricane Katrina [August 2005] made of the Gulf Coast and New Orleans in particular just breaks my heart.
My mind cannot comprehend what has really occurred. I have no doubt that in time it will be rebuilt if the Lord does not return first, but I do not think it will be in my lifetime as I am almost 84 years old.
This has prompted me to write what few memories I have of New Orleans.
Strange as it may seem, I remember having a dream as a child of going to New Orleans in a boat (from Denver?). That is all I remember of the dream and I have remembered very few dreams through the years. I really cannot imagine how I had even heard of New Orleans at that time.
My first real connection to New Orleans came in 1943. I had just finished college and was not yet working. Lee had just been commissioned in the USNR and was to be stationed in Raleigh, North Carolina, for three months. I wanted to make a trip to see him. With much reluctance, Mother and Daddy agreed for me to go.
We were living in Waco at that time. I went to Houston for a few days which I spent at Uncle Ray’s. I interviewed with Humble Oil Company (to become Esso and then Exxon). The headquarters were in Houston, but the jobs in labs were in Baytown. So I also made a trip there and was interviewed and hired to begin work in September.
My agenda for the trip to Raleigh was by train, Houston to New Orleans, New Orleans to Greensborough, North Carolina, change there for Raleigh. It was impossible at that time to get sleeping car reservations. I had seat reservations for the train from New Orleans to Greensborough, but that was all. In the mean time I had to spend the night in New Orleans. Daddy had tried to get me a hotel reservation there but was unable to.
I had share a seat with a lady (perhaps ten years older than me) who was in somewhat the same boat. We teamed up and after many phone call were able to get a room we could share in a hotel in the French Quarter. I remember that after checking in, we went out to find a place to get something to eat. And I had shrimp Creole. Next morning we parted ways because she was going a different way, even from a different station.
When Lee O [was] back in the States following VJ Day, he was to report to New Orleans for reassignment. By that time we had been married a year, most of it spent apart. I went with him to New Orleans. He expected to be there a few days at least so we spent the day in a rental car trying to find a place to live instead of sightseeing. We did eat at one of the famous restaurants, Antoine’s. We finally found a room in someone’s house. Lee reported in next day and was immediately sent to San Francisco so we spent only one or two nights in that room. When he had orders for discharge a few months later, he had to return to New Orleans, but I did not go with him at that time.
I did not return to New Orleans until many, many years later. On one of the trips which Charles and I took with our Young Heart group with our church we went to Disney World [and stopped in New Orleans].
Our childhood, our memories, our family bonds
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Thoughts On: September 11
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams.]
Even though I had had the TV on at home until about 8:30, I had shut if off and had gone to the Wellness Center to exercise. When I checked in I was met with something about how awful it was and I didn’t have a clue what was going on--for a moment. Then someone said planes had struck the one of the twin towers of the world Trade Center and the Pentagon.
There were many TV monitors in the Wellness Center and of course everyone was watching. We saw the plane strike the second tower. (Of course we would see the film being replayed many times during the next few days.)
Even though I had had the TV on at home until about 8:30, I had shut if off and had gone to the Wellness Center to exercise. When I checked in I was met with something about how awful it was and I didn’t have a clue what was going on--for a moment. Then someone said planes had struck the one of the twin towers of the world Trade Center and the Pentagon.
There were many TV monitors in the Wellness Center and of course everyone was watching. We saw the plane strike the second tower. (Of course we would see the film being replayed many times during the next few days.)
Edmonds in Washington County
[This comes from a 3rd-person narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams sometime after 1990, probably around 2000. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Lou and Lee O. Edmonds came to Bartlesville [Washington County, Oklahoma] in January of 1946. They came with the influx of new people to work for Phillips Petroleum Company shortly after the end of World War II. Lee O. went to work in the research department when it was still housed in the building with the glass bricks downtown.
Since they were expecting their first child, they bought an older house at 1469 Maple instead of a few blocks over in what was then known as the Phillips Edition.
They had four sons and one daughter. As their family grew, so did their house. Beginning with the addition of a closet, Lee taught himself building [skills] and with a minimum of help, built a new kitchen, added a bedroom and eventually expanded the upstairs to have four small bedrooms.
All of the children attended Jane Philips School most of the time. Because of overcrowding, some of the children went to Horace Mann for kindergarten. Anna, the youngest, even went to McKinley for first grade. By the time she was ready for third grade, and the two older boys had strayed to College, the family had built a new home in Woodland Park.
All five children attended Central Junior High school and graduated from College High School.
Lee O. died in 1973. Lou continued to live here and in 1990 married Charles W. Adams.
The family was active in church. They were charter members of Trinity Baptist Church (which was very close [to their house on Maple). In later years they returned to First Baptist Church.
Lou and Lee O. Edmonds came to Bartlesville [Washington County, Oklahoma] in January of 1946. They came with the influx of new people to work for Phillips Petroleum Company shortly after the end of World War II. Lee O. went to work in the research department when it was still housed in the building with the glass bricks downtown.
Since they were expecting their first child, they bought an older house at 1469 Maple instead of a few blocks over in what was then known as the Phillips Edition.
They had four sons and one daughter. As their family grew, so did their house. Beginning with the addition of a closet, Lee taught himself building [skills] and with a minimum of help, built a new kitchen, added a bedroom and eventually expanded the upstairs to have four small bedrooms.
All of the children attended Jane Philips School most of the time. Because of overcrowding, some of the children went to Horace Mann for kindergarten. Anna, the youngest, even went to McKinley for first grade. By the time she was ready for third grade, and the two older boys had strayed to College, the family had built a new home in Woodland Park.
All five children attended Central Junior High school and graduated from College High School.
Lee O. died in 1973. Lou continued to live here and in 1990 married Charles W. Adams.
The family was active in church. They were charter members of Trinity Baptist Church (which was very close [to their house on Maple). In later years they returned to First Baptist Church.
Thoughts On: Tornados
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams around the year 2000. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
I had never had any experiences with tornados as a child. The nearest thing was the bad hail storm we had in San Antonio (see Down in San Antonio). When I was in college my roommate worried about them when she would hear about them on the news. She came from west Texas.
As I began my life in Oklahoma, they have often been in my thoughts--especially in the spring which is usually thought of being tornado time, though there have been many at other times of the year including Christmas time.
My first experience was on night after Memorial Day. I don’t remember the year but I would guess it was about 1954. At least it was before we had in sirens to warn us. We were awakened in the night with police cars driving the streets with their sirens going. Lee and I got up and got the kids up and we just huddled and waited not having the least idea of what we ought to do. We just waited till we got an all clear. (How did we know?) Later we learned that many people got into their cars and went to the Phillips tunnel and others drove south actually crossing the path of the tornado.
At that time the tornado did not touch down at least in a populated area.
I had never had any experiences with tornados as a child. The nearest thing was the bad hail storm we had in San Antonio (see Down in San Antonio). When I was in college my roommate worried about them when she would hear about them on the news. She came from west Texas.
As I began my life in Oklahoma, they have often been in my thoughts--especially in the spring which is usually thought of being tornado time, though there have been many at other times of the year including Christmas time.
My first experience was on night after Memorial Day. I don’t remember the year but I would guess it was about 1954. At least it was before we had in sirens to warn us. We were awakened in the night with police cars driving the streets with their sirens going. Lee and I got up and got the kids up and we just huddled and waited not having the least idea of what we ought to do. We just waited till we got an all clear. (How did we know?) Later we learned that many people got into their cars and went to the Phillips tunnel and others drove south actually crossing the path of the tornado.
At that time the tornado did not touch down at least in a populated area.
Remember When: Stamps Were 3 Cents for a Letter
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams around the year 2000. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Actually I remember when they were 2 cents and postcards were 1 cent.
The 3 cent letter was in effect for a long time. You could send Christmas cards for 2 cents if you just tucked the flap in and did not seal them and only signed your name. If you sealed them or wrote a letter, they were three cents.
Now we have jumps in postage so frequently that it is hard to remember what the price is.
Actually I remember when they were 2 cents and postcards were 1 cent.
The 3 cent letter was in effect for a long time. You could send Christmas cards for 2 cents if you just tucked the flap in and did not seal them and only signed your name. If you sealed them or wrote a letter, they were three cents.
Now we have jumps in postage so frequently that it is hard to remember what the price is.
Remember When: Mail Was Delivered to Your Door
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams around the year 2000. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
When we lived in San Antonio when I was a child, mail was delivered twice a day except on Saturday when it was only once. No mail on Sunday.
If you lived in the country on a main road, you had a mail box in front of your house; otherwise you had to walk to an intersection where there were many mail boxes.
When we lived on Maple [1469 Maple, Bartlesville, Oklahoma] we had a mail box at the door. Eventually we put in a mail slot which we put in the wall so that mail would not be in the way when we went in the front door. That worked great, especially if we were away for several days.
When we moved to Briarwood, we could still have had mail delivered to the door, but we opted not to. It did not seem right for the postman to have to walk up all the steps to the front door. We would have had a mail slot put in but could not figure out where we could put it. Ideally it should have been on the first floor. Perhaps it should be in the garage door, but the doors were metal. So we opted for a mail box on the street.
Once the postman came to our door with the mail saying we seemed to have lost a mail box--it was gone and we had not noticed. We found it in the vacant lot across the street.
When we lived in San Antonio when I was a child, mail was delivered twice a day except on Saturday when it was only once. No mail on Sunday.
If you lived in the country on a main road, you had a mail box in front of your house; otherwise you had to walk to an intersection where there were many mail boxes.
When we lived on Maple [1469 Maple, Bartlesville, Oklahoma] we had a mail box at the door. Eventually we put in a mail slot which we put in the wall so that mail would not be in the way when we went in the front door. That worked great, especially if we were away for several days.
When we moved to Briarwood, we could still have had mail delivered to the door, but we opted not to. It did not seem right for the postman to have to walk up all the steps to the front door. We would have had a mail slot put in but could not figure out where we could put it. Ideally it should have been on the first floor. Perhaps it should be in the garage door, but the doors were metal. So we opted for a mail box on the street.
Once the postman came to our door with the mail saying we seemed to have lost a mail box--it was gone and we had not noticed. We found it in the vacant lot across the street.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Mom Remembers Her Birthdays
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams in 2003. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
I guess it is appropriate as I come to my 82nd birthday that I think back over previous ones. My memories as a matter of fact are few. Since my birthday is December 21, it seemed like it was largely ignored. It just got mixed up with Christmas. Presents were usually sent as for birthday and Christmas.
The first one I remember is my 8th. By that time I was living with Grandmother and Granddaddy Collins [Amanda Jane Perryman Collins and Albert Buell Collins], down in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas. Daddy [Carlos Collins] had gone to work in San Antonio and was not able to be there. (He would be there for Christmas, however.) He gave me a little cedar chest (which I still have) containing a box of chocolates and also gave me my first Bible. [2012: Anna now has this little chest.]
I think at least once I had a birthday party where I invited classmates, but I remember nothing about it.
On my sixteenth birthday Daddy gave me sixteen dollars (which for that time was not an insignificant amount) and the lavaliere that had been my mother’s. I was going to give it to Anna on her 16th birthday, but couldn’t find it. I seldom wore it because the chain was so fragile and expensive to have repaired. I had kept it in the safety deposit box but when I went to get it was nowhere to be found. I apparently had taken it out. I did finally find it and gave it to her, but missed giving it on her 16th birthday. I tried to have the chain replaced with a sturdier one, but found out that it was made of gold with copper in it and was nowhere to be had.
Several years later when we went to Europe we looked there for it. We tried several places including Harrods’ which is supposed to have everything. We were walking down the street window shopping in Stratford on the Avon and saw one. So now it is sturdier.
I guess it is appropriate as I come to my 82nd birthday that I think back over previous ones. My memories as a matter of fact are few. Since my birthday is December 21, it seemed like it was largely ignored. It just got mixed up with Christmas. Presents were usually sent as for birthday and Christmas.
The first one I remember is my 8th. By that time I was living with Grandmother and Granddaddy Collins [Amanda Jane Perryman Collins and Albert Buell Collins], down in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas. Daddy [Carlos Collins] had gone to work in San Antonio and was not able to be there. (He would be there for Christmas, however.) He gave me a little cedar chest (which I still have) containing a box of chocolates and also gave me my first Bible. [2012: Anna now has this little chest.] 
I think at least once I had a birthday party where I invited classmates, but I remember nothing about it.
On my sixteenth birthday Daddy gave me sixteen dollars (which for that time was not an insignificant amount) and the lavaliere that had been my mother’s. I was going to give it to Anna on her 16th birthday, but couldn’t find it. I seldom wore it because the chain was so fragile and expensive to have repaired. I had kept it in the safety deposit box but when I went to get it was nowhere to be found. I apparently had taken it out. I did finally find it and gave it to her, but missed giving it on her 16th birthday. I tried to have the chain replaced with a sturdier one, but found out that it was made of gold with copper in it and was nowhere to be had. Several years later when we went to Europe we looked there for it. We tried several places including Harrods’ which is supposed to have everything. We were walking down the street window shopping in Stratford on the Avon and saw one. So now it is sturdier.
Down in San Antonio
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams around the year 2000. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
When I was nine years old, Daddy [Carlos Collins] remarried. He married Lucretia Tubbs who had worked in the office where he did. I had met her once before they married. Daddy had me come to San Antonio to meet her. One thing I remember is that she was recovering from poison ivy.
They married in April [1931]. Just shortly before they married she had some serious surgery. They moved directly into the house on Avant Street. They had bought a house that was completely furnished. I guess it was a blessing. I stayed on in the Valley until school was out. It was probably a big adjustment for everyone, although I don’t remember too much about it. I realized years later that she had some more health problems that year. I do know that I never felt as close to mother [I will refer to Lucretia as “mother” from now on] as I would have wished. I was always close to my Daddy.
In September, of course, I started to school. The school was named Highland Park and was three blocks from our house. Texas, at least in the cities, had a system where one could start in September or January. I was ready for fourth grade. For some reason, because my report card had said promoted to 4A I entered the second half of the fourth years curriculum.
This system of half grades kept me out of “sync” all the rest of my school days. In high school it was common to keep back a required subject, so as not to graduate until May, since all festivities took place them
I don’t remember having any particular trouble except I had to work hard in arithmetic because the second half was into long division and I had not had short division. I guess they reviewed it since there had been summer vacation and I managed . I remember one of my fifth grade teachers was a Mrs. Houston. That was unusual at that time because most teachers lost their jobs if they got married. This was during the depression and the thought was that the jobs had to be spread around. I think she was a widow with a child in school.
I remember writing a report on Michelangelo and on some musician (I don’t remember who). Also we had to write a piece about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I remember I wrote that I wanted to be a detective. I think I must have just discovered Nancy Drew.
Daddy and Mother were members of the First Baptist Church there in San Antonio. I joined there too of course having joined my grandparents church while I was still in the valley. I was baptized in the Donna Baptist Church, since the Alamo church had no baptistry. They did not go to Sunday School, only to church in the morning. They wanted me to go to Sunday School so they took me to a nearby church (Baptist Temple). Then they would pick me up and we would drive downtown to church. As time went by they also took me to Baptist Temple in the evening for what we called BYPU (Baptist Young People’s Union). I grew up deciding that I would never send my children to a church that I didn’t take an active part in.
For some reason when it was time to go to Junior high School (sixth, seventh and eighth grades), I decided that I didn’t want to go to Thomas Nelson Page which I was supposed to go to and which I could have ridden the city bus to. (Bus was just a block from our house). Instead I opted to go to Edgar Allan Poe which was a mile away (so was Page). Consequently, I had to walk a mile there and back every day. If the weather was really bad, I could call daddy and wait at school for him to get off work at 4:30 and pick me up. I don’t remember what I did in the morning if it was bad. I guess he took me.
I’m sure it was because my friends were going to Poe that I made that decision, probably the friends I made at Sunday School. I guess I already knew Maurine [Maher] who has been my friend all these years. I know I got to know her in Sunday School. Though we both went to Poe, we never had classes together.
In Junior High School we had a home room which remained our home room all the time we were there. My home room teacher’s name was Mr. Tampke. Our “lockers” were just open bins. I don’t remember theft ever being a problem. We got report cards very six weeks. The main thing I remember about that first spring in Junior High is that I missed the second sixth weeks period. I first had the measles, went back to school for one day and was out for the next four weeks. We first thought I had the mumps, since I had swelling in the right place and mumps were going around. When I wasn’t better in a couple of weeks they called in the doctor and discovered I had an abscessed gland in my neck which required lancing in the hospital. The doctor wanted to do it without anesthesia but I wanted to be put to sleep. so I spent the night in the hospital. it was still a couple of weeks before I was able to go back to school.
The spring I was in seventh grade, we had a major hail storm in San Antonio. I still remember the eerie greenish cast to the sky before it hit. Everyone in the whole area had to have a new roof and many had their windows knocked out. Our windows were shielded from the west by big trees, but the neighbors were not so lucky. Mother always said that since it was happening, she wished she had been on the other side of our house so she could see their windows being knocked out.
When I went to school the next day, we found all the windows in our home room which was on the west were out as were others in the school. We were not able to use our homeroom for several weeks. Also around the school were big piles of hail stones, at least as big a golf balls and it seems more like they were as big as baseballs. Anyway they lasted for a long time.
I remember I had a Social Studies teacher in the sixth grade named Mrs. Caruthers and an English teacher in eighth grade named Mrs. Blount. I remember my seventh grade English teacher, but not her name. she taught us outlining and we had to be so precise that we had to make ourselves a ruler to keep our lines in order.
When I was nine years old, Daddy [Carlos Collins] remarried. He married Lucretia Tubbs who had worked in the office where he did. I had met her once before they married. Daddy had me come to San Antonio to meet her. One thing I remember is that she was recovering from poison ivy.
They married in April [1931]. Just shortly before they married she had some serious surgery. They moved directly into the house on Avant Street. They had bought a house that was completely furnished. I guess it was a blessing. I stayed on in the Valley until school was out. It was probably a big adjustment for everyone, although I don’t remember too much about it. I realized years later that she had some more health problems that year. I do know that I never felt as close to mother [I will refer to Lucretia as “mother” from now on] as I would have wished. I was always close to my Daddy.
In September, of course, I started to school. The school was named Highland Park and was three blocks from our house. Texas, at least in the cities, had a system where one could start in September or January. I was ready for fourth grade. For some reason, because my report card had said promoted to 4A I entered the second half of the fourth years curriculum.
This system of half grades kept me out of “sync” all the rest of my school days. In high school it was common to keep back a required subject, so as not to graduate until May, since all festivities took place them
I don’t remember having any particular trouble except I had to work hard in arithmetic because the second half was into long division and I had not had short division. I guess they reviewed it since there had been summer vacation and I managed . I remember one of my fifth grade teachers was a Mrs. Houston. That was unusual at that time because most teachers lost their jobs if they got married. This was during the depression and the thought was that the jobs had to be spread around. I think she was a widow with a child in school.
I remember writing a report on Michelangelo and on some musician (I don’t remember who). Also we had to write a piece about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I remember I wrote that I wanted to be a detective. I think I must have just discovered Nancy Drew.
Daddy and Mother were members of the First Baptist Church there in San Antonio. I joined there too of course having joined my grandparents church while I was still in the valley. I was baptized in the Donna Baptist Church, since the Alamo church had no baptistry. They did not go to Sunday School, only to church in the morning. They wanted me to go to Sunday School so they took me to a nearby church (Baptist Temple). Then they would pick me up and we would drive downtown to church. As time went by they also took me to Baptist Temple in the evening for what we called BYPU (Baptist Young People’s Union). I grew up deciding that I would never send my children to a church that I didn’t take an active part in.
For some reason when it was time to go to Junior high School (sixth, seventh and eighth grades), I decided that I didn’t want to go to Thomas Nelson Page which I was supposed to go to and which I could have ridden the city bus to. (Bus was just a block from our house). Instead I opted to go to Edgar Allan Poe which was a mile away (so was Page). Consequently, I had to walk a mile there and back every day. If the weather was really bad, I could call daddy and wait at school for him to get off work at 4:30 and pick me up. I don’t remember what I did in the morning if it was bad. I guess he took me.
I’m sure it was because my friends were going to Poe that I made that decision, probably the friends I made at Sunday School. I guess I already knew Maurine [Maher] who has been my friend all these years. I know I got to know her in Sunday School. Though we both went to Poe, we never had classes together.
In Junior High School we had a home room which remained our home room all the time we were there. My home room teacher’s name was Mr. Tampke. Our “lockers” were just open bins. I don’t remember theft ever being a problem. We got report cards very six weeks. The main thing I remember about that first spring in Junior High is that I missed the second sixth weeks period. I first had the measles, went back to school for one day and was out for the next four weeks. We first thought I had the mumps, since I had swelling in the right place and mumps were going around. When I wasn’t better in a couple of weeks they called in the doctor and discovered I had an abscessed gland in my neck which required lancing in the hospital. The doctor wanted to do it without anesthesia but I wanted to be put to sleep. so I spent the night in the hospital. it was still a couple of weeks before I was able to go back to school.
The spring I was in seventh grade, we had a major hail storm in San Antonio. I still remember the eerie greenish cast to the sky before it hit. Everyone in the whole area had to have a new roof and many had their windows knocked out. Our windows were shielded from the west by big trees, but the neighbors were not so lucky. Mother always said that since it was happening, she wished she had been on the other side of our house so she could see their windows being knocked out.
When I went to school the next day, we found all the windows in our home room which was on the west were out as were others in the school. We were not able to use our homeroom for several weeks. Also around the school were big piles of hail stones, at least as big a golf balls and it seems more like they were as big as baseballs. Anyway they lasted for a long time.
I remember I had a Social Studies teacher in the sixth grade named Mrs. Caruthers and an English teacher in eighth grade named Mrs. Blount. I remember my seventh grade English teacher, but not her name. she taught us outlining and we had to be so precise that we had to make ourselves a ruler to keep our lines in order.
Meet Me in Saint Louis
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams around the year 2000. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Daddy [Carlos Collins]had gotten a transfer to St. Louis which was as near as he could get back to Texas at that time. Trying to fit the pieces together, I wonder if it was already arranged when Carolyn [Carolyn Collins 1923-1928] died. At any rate, Daddy had rented a furnished apartment and grandmother came along to keep house for us. It was very small and about all I remember about it was that the beds folded up into the wall. At least I think both of them did. I know the one in the living room did.
School had already started when we got there. I don’t think I remember anything in particular about school. I did have to be vaccinated (for small pox) which was done at the health department. I never did get what they considered a successful take (have it leave a scar) so for several years it had to be done again. I was vaccinated once in first grade, twice in second grade, and three times in third grade. After that one time Uncle Ray [Ray Collins 1889-1984], who was a doctor, thought he could do it so it would “take”. He managed to get a very indistinct scar and I never had to be vaccinated again after fourth grade.
I walked a couple of blocks from school home and I remember there were two older boys--probably in second or third grade--who tormented me from time to time. I had the chicken pox while I was in first grade--a very light case. We were hoping I would be all right to go to my Collins grandparents [Albert Buell Collins and Amanda Jane Perryman Collins]for Christmas. At that time the health department could quarantine for communicable diseases. I know the people across the hall were quarantined for the measles. Daddy and I did make the trip the Rio Grande Valley of Texas for Christmas. We went by train, of course. The trip was uneventful, I guess since I have no clear memories of it. One time Daddy got off the train while we were stopped and left me with a lady who had the seat next to me. I was terrified that the train would leave before Daddy got back.
One other incident that occurred that year concerned an amusement park. Apparently school children were given some tickets for rides and had a free day from school for it. I must have had to have permission, but there was some misunderstanding. I went out there with a group of kids and their mothers, but eventually I was pretty much on my own. I remember the incident, but I don’t remember the end. Daddy filled me in a few years before his death. Apparently I was wandering around there on my own and some of the park personnel took me under there wing. I was able to tell them who my Daddy was and where he worked, so they called him and he took off and came to get me. I don’t know why I wasn’t terrified.
It was during this time in St. Louis that Daddy told me I could have a bicycle when I wanted one. I didn’t really want one then, but I never did get that bicycle nor did I ever learn to ride one.
The next summer I went back to Colorado with grandmother and by the time school started again, Daddy had found a room with a family (man and wife) named Belew.
We took our meals there too and Mrs. Belew really mothered me. I was enjoying school and looking forward to being a Girl Scout the following year. I don’t think there were Brownie Scouts at that time. I was happy and contented.
Then Daddy got a transfer to San Antonio, which was what he wanted, but it uprooted me again, and I was separated from him again. I had to go live with Grandmother and Granddaddy Collins [in Alamo, Texas]. They were wonderful to me of course, but I missed my Daddy.
Daddy [Carlos Collins]had gotten a transfer to St. Louis which was as near as he could get back to Texas at that time. Trying to fit the pieces together, I wonder if it was already arranged when Carolyn [Carolyn Collins 1923-1928] died. At any rate, Daddy had rented a furnished apartment and grandmother came along to keep house for us. It was very small and about all I remember about it was that the beds folded up into the wall. At least I think both of them did. I know the one in the living room did.
School had already started when we got there. I don’t think I remember anything in particular about school. I did have to be vaccinated (for small pox) which was done at the health department. I never did get what they considered a successful take (have it leave a scar) so for several years it had to be done again. I was vaccinated once in first grade, twice in second grade, and three times in third grade. After that one time Uncle Ray [Ray Collins 1889-1984], who was a doctor, thought he could do it so it would “take”. He managed to get a very indistinct scar and I never had to be vaccinated again after fourth grade.
I walked a couple of blocks from school home and I remember there were two older boys--probably in second or third grade--who tormented me from time to time. I had the chicken pox while I was in first grade--a very light case. We were hoping I would be all right to go to my Collins grandparents [Albert Buell Collins and Amanda Jane Perryman Collins]for Christmas. At that time the health department could quarantine for communicable diseases. I know the people across the hall were quarantined for the measles. Daddy and I did make the trip the Rio Grande Valley of Texas for Christmas. We went by train, of course. The trip was uneventful, I guess since I have no clear memories of it. One time Daddy got off the train while we were stopped and left me with a lady who had the seat next to me. I was terrified that the train would leave before Daddy got back.
One other incident that occurred that year concerned an amusement park. Apparently school children were given some tickets for rides and had a free day from school for it. I must have had to have permission, but there was some misunderstanding. I went out there with a group of kids and their mothers, but eventually I was pretty much on my own. I remember the incident, but I don’t remember the end. Daddy filled me in a few years before his death. Apparently I was wandering around there on my own and some of the park personnel took me under there wing. I was able to tell them who my Daddy was and where he worked, so they called him and he took off and came to get me. I don’t know why I wasn’t terrified.
It was during this time in St. Louis that Daddy told me I could have a bicycle when I wanted one. I didn’t really want one then, but I never did get that bicycle nor did I ever learn to ride one.
The next summer I went back to Colorado with grandmother and by the time school started again, Daddy had found a room with a family (man and wife) named Belew.
We took our meals there too and Mrs. Belew really mothered me. I was enjoying school and looking forward to being a Girl Scout the following year. I don’t think there were Brownie Scouts at that time. I was happy and contented.
Then Daddy got a transfer to San Antonio, which was what he wanted, but it uprooted me again, and I was separated from him again. I had to go live with Grandmother and Granddaddy Collins [in Alamo, Texas]. They were wonderful to me of course, but I missed my Daddy.
My Year in Colorado
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams around the year 2000. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
After Mother died [in October 1927], Carolyn and I went to live with Grandmother Prince [Susan Green Prince 1867-1953]. She lived in Colorado in the Denver area. It was in a somewhat rural area on the road out toward Golden. In the household were also Aunt Mallie [Mallie Alta Prince Jones 1898-1980] and Uncle Jim [James Pinkney Prince 1902-1983].
I really don’t remember very much about that winter. I know the house had a basement where the furnace was. I remember it was cold and I would try to dress under the covers.
I remember Aunt Mallie would read to us some. I remember a book about an ant colony (or was it a bee colony?) It impressed me how the insects worked together as a unit.
I missed my mother and my daddy. I’m sure that Daddy made a trip to see us at least once, though I don’t remember it. Because of pictures, I’m sure Aunt Winnie [Winnie Prince Goodwill 1895-1982]and her family visited the following summer, as did Uncle Arthur [Arthur Nathaniel Prince 1889-1983] . It was while he was there that we went up into the mountains. One place that we stopped, Uncle Arthur was standing on the side of the road away from the car. Carolyn was standing with him and I was afraid for her because of the drop off on the other side. He was not holding her hand. I told grandma about it and she called her back. Just as she was crossing the road a car came around a curve and struck her. We took her to the hospital in Boulder, which was the nearest hospital. Uncle Jim took me home while the others stayed there. Carolyn died [the] next day. She had a skull fracture.
Daddy started for Denver as soon as possible after he heard of the accident--by train, of course. He read of her death in the newspaper before he arrived. It must have been terrible for daddy to lose Carolyn less than a year after mother died. Years later Grandmother lost another grandchild because of another type of accident while visiting her. That must have been very hard on her.
Carolyn died in August, just a few days before her fifth birthday. That fall I started to school. I remember the first day they had us try to write the first letter of our name. It isn’t easy write, not print. Can you imagine starting with the letter “E”? I”m not sure whether it was with pencil , or pen and ink
After a day or two they took me out of school. I thought it was because I was going to have to be vaccinated, but as I think back on it, I’m sure grandma knew that I was going to St. Louis to be with Daddy.
I spent the next summer with grandma there and I think maybe I never spent another until I was thirteen or fourteen, but I had a love for Colorado that I feel to this day.
After Mother died [in October 1927], Carolyn and I went to live with Grandmother Prince [Susan Green Prince 1867-1953]. She lived in Colorado in the Denver area. It was in a somewhat rural area on the road out toward Golden. In the household were also Aunt Mallie [Mallie Alta Prince Jones 1898-1980] and Uncle Jim [James Pinkney Prince 1902-1983].
I really don’t remember very much about that winter. I know the house had a basement where the furnace was. I remember it was cold and I would try to dress under the covers.
I remember Aunt Mallie would read to us some. I remember a book about an ant colony (or was it a bee colony?) It impressed me how the insects worked together as a unit.
I missed my mother and my daddy. I’m sure that Daddy made a trip to see us at least once, though I don’t remember it. Because of pictures, I’m sure Aunt Winnie [Winnie Prince Goodwill 1895-1982]and her family visited the following summer, as did Uncle Arthur [Arthur Nathaniel Prince 1889-1983] . It was while he was there that we went up into the mountains. One place that we stopped, Uncle Arthur was standing on the side of the road away from the car. Carolyn was standing with him and I was afraid for her because of the drop off on the other side. He was not holding her hand. I told grandma about it and she called her back. Just as she was crossing the road a car came around a curve and struck her. We took her to the hospital in Boulder, which was the nearest hospital. Uncle Jim took me home while the others stayed there. Carolyn died [the] next day. She had a skull fracture.
Daddy started for Denver as soon as possible after he heard of the accident--by train, of course. He read of her death in the newspaper before he arrived. It must have been terrible for daddy to lose Carolyn less than a year after mother died. Years later Grandmother lost another grandchild because of another type of accident while visiting her. That must have been very hard on her.
Carolyn died in August, just a few days before her fifth birthday. That fall I started to school. I remember the first day they had us try to write the first letter of our name. It isn’t easy write, not print. Can you imagine starting with the letter “E”? I”m not sure whether it was with pencil , or pen and ink
After a day or two they took me out of school. I thought it was because I was going to have to be vaccinated, but as I think back on it, I’m sure grandma knew that I was going to St. Louis to be with Daddy.
I spent the next summer with grandma there and I think maybe I never spent another until I was thirteen or fourteen, but I had a love for Colorado that I feel to this day.
When My World Fell Apart
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams around the year 2000. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
In October of that year [1927] my mother [Golda Emma Prince Collins] died of pneumonia [in Milwaukee]. Antibiotics were not available at that time. I remember she had a nurse with her for several days before she died. I, of course, had no idea how sick she was. Grandma Prince [Susan Emma Green Prince] came from Colorado and mother’s brother, Arthur Prince, came from Abilene, Texas. When we went to the railroad station to meet them, they found out that they were both on the same train and didn't know it. At some place along the way (I would guess Omaha) their cars had been switched to the same train.
At that time it appears to have been the custom to have a funeral in a home rather than in a Funeral Home Chapel. I remember her casket was in the living room and I was lifted up to kiss her. I think there must have been roses because for years I did not like the smell of roses. (Sometime before this I had gone with Mother to visit someone who had lost a baby or small child. I remember seeing the small casket with the child in it.)
Following this Carolyn and I went back to Colorado to stay with our Grandmother in her home near Golden, Colorado.
In October of that year [1927] my mother [Golda Emma Prince Collins] died of pneumonia [in Milwaukee]. Antibiotics were not available at that time. I remember she had a nurse with her for several days before she died. I, of course, had no idea how sick she was. Grandma Prince [Susan Emma Green Prince] came from Colorado and mother’s brother, Arthur Prince, came from Abilene, Texas. When we went to the railroad station to meet them, they found out that they were both on the same train and didn't know it. At some place along the way (I would guess Omaha) their cars had been switched to the same train.
At that time it appears to have been the custom to have a funeral in a home rather than in a Funeral Home Chapel. I remember her casket was in the living room and I was lifted up to kiss her. I think there must have been roses because for years I did not like the smell of roses. (Sometime before this I had gone with Mother to visit someone who had lost a baby or small child. I remember seeing the small casket with the child in it.)
Following this Carolyn and I went back to Colorado to stay with our Grandmother in her home near Golden, Colorado.
Milwaukee Memories
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams around the year 2000. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
I think it must have been when Carolyn was about a year old, we moved to Milwaukee. Perhaps it was after that. Sometime during that time we visited with Grandmother Prince in Bentonville, Arkansas. I think we probably stayed the whole summer--or most of it--at least Mother and Carolyn and me.
I have this memory of making the trip back to Wisconsin in a touring car, with extra jump seats and with isinglass curtains to snap on if it rained.
These things I remember:
By the summer of 1927, my grand mother Prince had moved to Colorado. We all went out there at the beginning of the summer. My memory tells me that Daddy had a month's vacation and then he went back to Milwaukee and the rest of us spent the summer in Colorado. We did our travel on the train in a sleeping car. On our way to Colorado, we went to visit Daddy's sister, Aunt Beulah, who lived in New Mexico in the Estancia valley. At that time there were two cousins, Emmagene and James. Emmagene was about my age and James about Carolyn's. They lived way out in the country and had a windmill. We were told not to climb the windmill, Which we promptly did! It was far too tempting--and very dangerous for someone of our ages. We got into trouble for it--don't remember how we were punished.
In preparation for this big trip, Daddy bought a new trunk which had a tray in it. Carolyn and I had fun hiding in it while it was still brand new. It occurs to me that it was a dangerous thing for us to do. Perhaps we were well supervised. (I had that trunk for many years. Once after I was married to Lee O. we stored woolens in it with moth balls. It never did completely get rid of the smell. Years later while we lived on Briarwood Drive, we painted it and "antiqued" it and used it as a coffee table in the den.)
Two things I remember about the train trip. One was how dirty our faces were in the morning. In those days trains were coal burning. There was no air conditioning so the windows had to be open for ventilation. Another thing that impressed me was the fact that when I woke up in the morning, we seemed to be going back where we came from. We had gone through a switching point at Omaha while I slept. The engine was now on the other end.
I remember at least one Christmas. I got a little table with two chairs. It was blond and the very first thing we got water on it which left marks. When Caroline and I had birthdays, we each got a present.
I started to kindergarten the in the fall of 1927. I walked (was it a block or two?). However I was always met at Capitol Drive which was the street in front of our house. It was a very busy street.
The only thing that I remember about school was the day the clown came to entertain us. He asked if anyone had drunk coffee for breakfast. Some boy volunteered to go up on stage. The clown had him bent his elbow, and then held a glass under it. A brown liquid ran out as if it were coffee coming from his elbow. For some reason this scared me very much and I didn't want to go back to school after that . I have always thought that they didn't make me go back because of that. However, as I have tried to put things in proper chronology, my guess is that I was allowed to stay home a few days and then about that time my world fell apart and that was why I never went back.
I think it must have been when Carolyn was about a year old, we moved to Milwaukee. Perhaps it was after that. Sometime during that time we visited with Grandmother Prince in Bentonville, Arkansas. I think we probably stayed the whole summer--or most of it--at least Mother and Carolyn and me.
I have this memory of making the trip back to Wisconsin in a touring car, with extra jump seats and with isinglass curtains to snap on if it rained.
These things I remember:
- Going to the beach along Lake Michigan ---playing in the sand and jumping the waves.
- Going to the park at night on the Fourth of July to see the fire works.
- Being given Cod Liver Oil to build me up. It was thick and brown and I actually liked it.
- Being given eye exercises to strengthen my eyes. I know now that I had a lazy eye (and still do.) Nowadays they cover the good eye to force you to use the weak one, but apparently they were not doing that then. The doctor tried having me do eye exercises to try to improve the situation. I guess it didn't work. I also got my first pair of glasses when I was about four. The very first day that I had them, I was playing with some neighbor children, running around the yard with a cardboard box over my head. (Can you imagine?) I tripped and fell flat on my face and thoroughly crushed the lenses. It was a wonder I didn't get glass in my eye. Lenses were all glass at that time. Only one other time in all my life of wearing glasses did I break them and that time I slipped on the ice when I was about twenty. I broke the frames several times but never again the lenses.
- Sometime during those early years I would have headaches which made me sick at my stomach and I would have to go to bed. They were one sided--I always said my eye hurt. I think it was my right eye (my bad one) but I am not sure. From what I know now I think they must have been migraine headaches with, perhaps, an allergic trigger. I have this memory that I would get them one day after I had eaten bananas. I seem to have had them until I was eight or nine years old.
- Going to a big department store with Mother and Carolyn. We rode on an escalator. It was many years before I was again in a store that had an escalator. I had what must have been my first ice cream soda. The flavor was Orange. I remember being told by my mother that it was not nice making a noise by trying to get the last little bit out of the glass with the straw.
- Having my tonsils out. I had to spend the night in the hospital. Mother stayed at the hospital, but was not able to really stay with me. I had been promised all the ice cream that I wanted, but when the time came I didn’t want it. My throat hurt too much.
By the summer of 1927, my grand mother Prince had moved to Colorado. We all went out there at the beginning of the summer. My memory tells me that Daddy had a month's vacation and then he went back to Milwaukee and the rest of us spent the summer in Colorado. We did our travel on the train in a sleeping car. On our way to Colorado, we went to visit Daddy's sister, Aunt Beulah, who lived in New Mexico in the Estancia valley. At that time there were two cousins, Emmagene and James. Emmagene was about my age and James about Carolyn's. They lived way out in the country and had a windmill. We were told not to climb the windmill, Which we promptly did! It was far too tempting--and very dangerous for someone of our ages. We got into trouble for it--don't remember how we were punished.
In preparation for this big trip, Daddy bought a new trunk which had a tray in it. Carolyn and I had fun hiding in it while it was still brand new. It occurs to me that it was a dangerous thing for us to do. Perhaps we were well supervised. (I had that trunk for many years. Once after I was married to Lee O. we stored woolens in it with moth balls. It never did completely get rid of the smell. Years later while we lived on Briarwood Drive, we painted it and "antiqued" it and used it as a coffee table in the den.)
Two things I remember about the train trip. One was how dirty our faces were in the morning. In those days trains were coal burning. There was no air conditioning so the windows had to be open for ventilation. Another thing that impressed me was the fact that when I woke up in the morning, we seemed to be going back where we came from. We had gone through a switching point at Omaha while I slept. The engine was now on the other end.
I remember at least one Christmas. I got a little table with two chairs. It was blond and the very first thing we got water on it which left marks. When Caroline and I had birthdays, we each got a present.
I started to kindergarten the in the fall of 1927. I walked (was it a block or two?). However I was always met at Capitol Drive which was the street in front of our house. It was a very busy street.
The only thing that I remember about school was the day the clown came to entertain us. He asked if anyone had drunk coffee for breakfast. Some boy volunteered to go up on stage. The clown had him bent his elbow, and then held a glass under it. A brown liquid ran out as if it were coffee coming from his elbow. For some reason this scared me very much and I didn't want to go back to school after that . I have always thought that they didn't make me go back because of that. However, as I have tried to put things in proper chronology, my guess is that I was allowed to stay home a few days and then about that time my world fell apart and that was why I never went back.
Earliest Memories in Nauvoo, Illinois
[This comes from a narrative written by Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams around the year 2000. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
I was born December 21, 1921, in Nauvoo, Illinois, the first child of Carlos C. Collins and Golda Emma Prince Collins. [For the story of why they were in Nauvoo I refer you to the story by Carlos Collins, my father.]
I do not remember living there, but I know that my sister, Carolyn Jane, was born there in August, 1923.
I remember only one incident from that time. My parents had a little canvas baby swing which would hang in a doorway. I was told not to climb in it, but like many a small child disobeyed and crawled in it anyway. What fun it must have seemed to jump up and down in it. the only problem was that I was too heavy and either the spring broke or came loose and I was left with a nasty cut on my head. The scar from that spot was visible for many years and when the hair grew in over it, it was kinky curly in that one spot only and was white. It didn't really show much but even after I was grown it amazed hair dressers when I went to them for the first time.
There was a little girlThis is about a little girl named Emmilou, me. I suspect the last part of the above rhyme fits me, but I know I only had curls when my mother or some one else tried hard to put them there.
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead
When she was good
She was very, very good
And when she was bad
She was horrid.
I was born December 21, 1921, in Nauvoo, Illinois, the first child of Carlos C. Collins and Golda Emma Prince Collins. [For the story of why they were in Nauvoo I refer you to the story by Carlos Collins, my father.]
I do not remember living there, but I know that my sister, Carolyn Jane, was born there in August, 1923.
I remember only one incident from that time. My parents had a little canvas baby swing which would hang in a doorway. I was told not to climb in it, but like many a small child disobeyed and crawled in it anyway. What fun it must have seemed to jump up and down in it. the only problem was that I was too heavy and either the spring broke or came loose and I was left with a nasty cut on my head. The scar from that spot was visible for many years and when the hair grew in over it, it was kinky curly in that one spot only and was white. It didn't really show much but even after I was grown it amazed hair dressers when I went to them for the first time.
From Nauvoo to Chicago to Milwaukee
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Carlos Collins --
Finally the people in Washington decided to discontinue that school [at Nauvoo, Illinois]. I had a sure enough job then. They transferred out everybody except the person in charge of building and equipment, and I was it.
Then, there wasn’t any railroad in Nauvoo. They had to ferry everything across to Montrose Island, really a lake. There was a dam across the river at Keokuk, Iowa. We started out – had to use whoever we could to pack up things. Some [was]supposed to go to a school in Nebraska, some Ohio, the rest to a warehouse in Chicago. The railroad wouldn’t accept unless shippers load and count. We had to gather up whoever we could get to go across the river on the ferry. We got it all out of there, turned the keys over, then I went to Chicago. I had to invoice it after I got to Chicago. I was supposed to have a count of what went out. The supply depot found that the stuff which was supposed to have gone there went other places. So I worked and worked. I was attached to the supply outfit there.
It was a great big office – I had a desk there and could use stenographers. Just to explain how big that was – the Butler Building was an old, great big building on Canal Street. We had two floors of that. Of course, you could get lost there if you wanted to. You could get lost whether you wanted to or not.
But I worked until finally the Board of Survey gave me a clearance and I went down to Nauvoo to see my family, waiting to see what was going to happen next. I had worked myself out of a job.
I went back to Chicago and the big boy there in charge of the administrative part, I went to see him. He said, “I have a job for you. In Milwaukee. They have all that stuff in a warehouse there and the fellow doesn’t know which end is up. Want you to go up there and straighten them out. You’ve done a good job here.”
I told him I wasn’t particularly wanting to go to Milwaukee. Instead of going North, I wanted to go South. He said, “We don’t have anything south for you. There’s a job for you. If you want it, you can take it.” So, I had to have a meal ticket with a family down in Nauvoo. So I went to Milwaukee.
When I got there, the office was in a warehouse down on Water Street. I talked to the manager about things. He said the boy doesn’t know anything about anything. We’ve got equipment all over Wisconsin. They’d put trainees on job training and furnish them with whatever tools where needed for the job. This young fellow had drawn up a statement and wanted me to sign that I had taken over. I told him I wouldn’t sign for anything I didn’t know where it was. I he would get me a receipted bill showing where it was, I would sign. He said I can’t do that. Finally, I guess he talked to the manager and drew up something that said that I had reported to the office that day and had taken over as is.
I worked and worked and took receipts – a lot of these fellows had been what they called rehabilitated and they were supposed to be able to keep the equipment they had been issued. I took every fellow that had been rehabilitated had him sign that he had received his final equipment. Things like that – just tedious. Finally I got everything I could do. I was over – I wasn’t short. They had a board of survey there. They cleared me that everything was there. I had an assistant who was real good, and plenty of stenos to help.
By that time, they made Milwaukee a Regional Office, not just a Branch Office. I had met the man who was going to be in charge of it in Chicago. He had been in the rehab section. He said he wanted me to be the Disbursing Officer. I want you to go down to Chicago and take some training. I got that job, disbursing pension checks, compensation, etc. It was a good job. It was nice. When you’re dealing in money, somebody can’t come along and run off with it like the other.
After that I tried to find a place to live in Milwaukee to bring my family up.
Emmilou Edmonds --
All this time you hadn’t had the family there?
Carlos Collins --
Maybe I got them up there before then, but I don’t recall. It wasn’t a very substantial place to bring them and they had a good place in Nauvoo. And Mother Prince [Susan Green Prince 1867-1953]was down there.
I finally got an apartment pretty close in. It wasn’t very good – it was on North Water Street. It was awfully hard to find a place, it seemed like. Finally got located. It was upstairs, supposed to be heated. You were there and it turned cold.
Carlos Collins --
Finally the people in Washington decided to discontinue that school [at Nauvoo, Illinois]. I had a sure enough job then. They transferred out everybody except the person in charge of building and equipment, and I was it.
Then, there wasn’t any railroad in Nauvoo. They had to ferry everything across to Montrose Island, really a lake. There was a dam across the river at Keokuk, Iowa. We started out – had to use whoever we could to pack up things. Some [was]supposed to go to a school in Nebraska, some Ohio, the rest to a warehouse in Chicago. The railroad wouldn’t accept unless shippers load and count. We had to gather up whoever we could get to go across the river on the ferry. We got it all out of there, turned the keys over, then I went to Chicago. I had to invoice it after I got to Chicago. I was supposed to have a count of what went out. The supply depot found that the stuff which was supposed to have gone there went other places. So I worked and worked. I was attached to the supply outfit there.
It was a great big office – I had a desk there and could use stenographers. Just to explain how big that was – the Butler Building was an old, great big building on Canal Street. We had two floors of that. Of course, you could get lost there if you wanted to. You could get lost whether you wanted to or not.
But I worked until finally the Board of Survey gave me a clearance and I went down to Nauvoo to see my family, waiting to see what was going to happen next. I had worked myself out of a job.
I went back to Chicago and the big boy there in charge of the administrative part, I went to see him. He said, “I have a job for you. In Milwaukee. They have all that stuff in a warehouse there and the fellow doesn’t know which end is up. Want you to go up there and straighten them out. You’ve done a good job here.”
I told him I wasn’t particularly wanting to go to Milwaukee. Instead of going North, I wanted to go South. He said, “We don’t have anything south for you. There’s a job for you. If you want it, you can take it.” So, I had to have a meal ticket with a family down in Nauvoo. So I went to Milwaukee.
When I got there, the office was in a warehouse down on Water Street. I talked to the manager about things. He said the boy doesn’t know anything about anything. We’ve got equipment all over Wisconsin. They’d put trainees on job training and furnish them with whatever tools where needed for the job. This young fellow had drawn up a statement and wanted me to sign that I had taken over. I told him I wouldn’t sign for anything I didn’t know where it was. I he would get me a receipted bill showing where it was, I would sign. He said I can’t do that. Finally, I guess he talked to the manager and drew up something that said that I had reported to the office that day and had taken over as is.
I worked and worked and took receipts – a lot of these fellows had been what they called rehabilitated and they were supposed to be able to keep the equipment they had been issued. I took every fellow that had been rehabilitated had him sign that he had received his final equipment. Things like that – just tedious. Finally I got everything I could do. I was over – I wasn’t short. They had a board of survey there. They cleared me that everything was there. I had an assistant who was real good, and plenty of stenos to help.
By that time, they made Milwaukee a Regional Office, not just a Branch Office. I had met the man who was going to be in charge of it in Chicago. He had been in the rehab section. He said he wanted me to be the Disbursing Officer. I want you to go down to Chicago and take some training. I got that job, disbursing pension checks, compensation, etc. It was a good job. It was nice. When you’re dealing in money, somebody can’t come along and run off with it like the other.
After that I tried to find a place to live in Milwaukee to bring my family up.
Emmilou Edmonds --
All this time you hadn’t had the family there?
Carlos Collins --
Maybe I got them up there before then, but I don’t recall. It wasn’t a very substantial place to bring them and they had a good place in Nauvoo. And Mother Prince [Susan Green Prince 1867-1953]was down there.
I finally got an apartment pretty close in. It wasn’t very good – it was on North Water Street. It was awfully hard to find a place, it seemed like. Finally got located. It was upstairs, supposed to be heated. You were there and it turned cold.
From Arkansas to Nauvoo, Illinois
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Carlos Collins --
It wasn’t but just a day or two [after I found out I wouldn’t be returning to the Bentonville School] that I got a notice from the Civil Service Commission that I had been appointed. Of course, I had it put in the paper.
In a few days I got a letter telling me to report to St. Louis. I was to be furnished with transportation and I had instruction to go to Washington DC. I got the impression it would be for a month’s training. Golda and I got our things together and caught the train to St. Louis. We got into Washington, stayed in some hotel there a day or two until we got a room which we rented for a month. Then I reported to my boss. I was there one day. The next day he said they need you in Chicago. They’re needing help. You are apparently the person they want. I told them I had just paid my rent for a month and wanted to see something of Washington. I’d never been there before. He said, “We can’t pay you to vacation, but you can have the rest of the day off.” I’ve never been to Washington since.
Caught train that night and when got into Chicago and reported to main office at Buffalo Bill [?] and Canal Street. I think it was the next day. Got a hotel room that night. Seemed like they didn’t know I was coming.
They sent me to Nauvoo, Illinois, where there was a Vocational School for veterans. They didn’t want me. They hadn’t asked for me.
I finally got a room in a house that a teacher of the agriculture department owned. They didn’t much like for me to be taking up some of their room. I was around there for a while. There was nothing for me to do.
Then we finally maneuvered around and they let me teach a class. I believe it was Spanish. Then I got some mathematics. It was a big outfit – lots of different types of training – a machine shop, agriculture, shoe shop, cobblers, men that make clothing, what do you call it [tailors].
The man in charge said he had a lot of work that I could do. Pretty soon he was transferred and they put me in charge. I had had some accounting and also work handling equipment for West Texas Utility Company. Well, I worked that way for about a year. You were born while we were there.
Emmilou Edmonds –
Carolyn was born there, too, wasn’t she?
Carlos Collins --
She was born in Nauvoo, but not in that house.
Emmilou Edmonds –
I see; she wasn’t born in the Company house.
Carlos Collins --
In the meantime, I rented a pretty nice little brick house. There was a nurse who belonged to the VA [Veteran’s Administration]. We made arrangements for her to be there when Carolyn was born. When I went after her, I didn’t go soon enough but the doctor was there. When I got back with the nurse, Carolyn was already born.
Carlos Collins --
It wasn’t but just a day or two [after I found out I wouldn’t be returning to the Bentonville School] that I got a notice from the Civil Service Commission that I had been appointed. Of course, I had it put in the paper.
In a few days I got a letter telling me to report to St. Louis. I was to be furnished with transportation and I had instruction to go to Washington DC. I got the impression it would be for a month’s training. Golda and I got our things together and caught the train to St. Louis. We got into Washington, stayed in some hotel there a day or two until we got a room which we rented for a month. Then I reported to my boss. I was there one day. The next day he said they need you in Chicago. They’re needing help. You are apparently the person they want. I told them I had just paid my rent for a month and wanted to see something of Washington. I’d never been there before. He said, “We can’t pay you to vacation, but you can have the rest of the day off.” I’ve never been to Washington since.
Caught train that night and when got into Chicago and reported to main office at Buffalo Bill [?] and Canal Street. I think it was the next day. Got a hotel room that night. Seemed like they didn’t know I was coming.
They sent me to Nauvoo, Illinois, where there was a Vocational School for veterans. They didn’t want me. They hadn’t asked for me.
I finally got a room in a house that a teacher of the agriculture department owned. They didn’t much like for me to be taking up some of their room. I was around there for a while. There was nothing for me to do.
Then we finally maneuvered around and they let me teach a class. I believe it was Spanish. Then I got some mathematics. It was a big outfit – lots of different types of training – a machine shop, agriculture, shoe shop, cobblers, men that make clothing, what do you call it [tailors].
The man in charge said he had a lot of work that I could do. Pretty soon he was transferred and they put me in charge. I had had some accounting and also work handling equipment for West Texas Utility Company. Well, I worked that way for about a year. You were born while we were there.
Emmilou Edmonds –
Carolyn was born there, too, wasn’t she?
Carlos Collins --
She was born in Nauvoo, but not in that house.
Emmilou Edmonds –
I see; she wasn’t born in the Company house.
Carlos Collins --
In the meantime, I rented a pretty nice little brick house. There was a nurse who belonged to the VA [Veteran’s Administration]. We made arrangements for her to be there when Carolyn was born. When I went after her, I didn’t go soon enough but the doctor was there. When I got back with the nurse, Carolyn was already born.
Teaching in Northwest Arkansas
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Emmilou Edmonds –
In the meantime [while you were in France], Mother had moved to Arkansas with her family. Is that right?
Carlos Collins --
Yes, that’s right. Sold the house or traded for a place in Bentonville, Arkansas.
I was discharged in Camp Bowie. Golda met me. She had a cousin or someone who lived in Dallas. She went there until I got my final papers and then went to Abilene for a few days with mother & father.
Then we went to Bentonville.
I needed a job. They thought I could get a job in Bentonville there at the school. They had said something to the county superintendent, asked him if there was an opening for me. He said, “I’ve got a job for you. You’re the type of man I want.”
They were having a consolidated school in Benton County. Consolidation was to be at Pea Ridge. He seemed to think I ought to know a lot about schools. I had never taught any school but one Saturday afternoon he had his buggy and his horse and took me over to Pea Ridge. We met with the trustees and apparently they hired me. School was going to open in not too long. I was going to teach Mathematics, I understood, and chemistry in the high school there. There had been a fellow in charge there – had lived there for ages and when school opened the school board came around and told me they wanted me in charge of it. I didn’t know what the other fellow would think about it and I asked what he thought about it. They said he was in favor of it. They brought him in and he was more than in favor of it – said that he didn’t know much about chemistry and that I could teach that and do the other too. So I got that job. I always said they promised me $100 per month. When they were going to put me in charge they reduced it to $90 and called me professor.
They were very much interested at that time in consolidated schools. The Farm and Ranch paper got information about that school at Pea Ridge and they sent a man out to interview me. They wrote an article in the magazine , had a picture of a school – it wasn’t our school – I think they had a picture of me.
I was doing fine there, going back to Bentonville on weekends. One weekend, Judge Dixon, who was in charge of the school board there in Bentonville, said, “Come over here. I want to talk to you. Let’s go into the bank.” He took me into the conference room. Said, “We’re going to make a change in our principal of the school here and we think you are the man we want.” It was quite a surprise to me and I said, “It’s interesting” or something like that. He wanted to know how much I wanted. I told him a lot more than I was getting at Pea Ridge. That had been the first thing offered me and I took it. I said I want $150 per month -- $1,800 per year anyway, but I wanted them to start paying me now. I guess it was $200 per month. School was out at Pea Ridge, but I wanted to be paid during the summer.
That gave me a chance to go to Abilene and finish a course during summer school to get my degree. I just lacked a little when I enlisted in the service. That was all right with him. After I got my degree, I came back.
Everybody said I was doing a good job. I didn’t think it was so good. But I found out there were a lot of different factions in the town – some dated way back. One bunch liked me – one bunch told me to do this – one bunch told me to do that. I didn’t make application to be reappointed. I thought if they wanted me they could do so.
I went down to the University of Arkansas during the summer, taking some kind of education course – work measurement or something, I don’t know.
In the meantime, I found out the Federal Government was going to have some openings for Vocational Teachers or something and they paid from what I was making up higher. I gave one of the school board members as a reference and while I was down at the University I saw in the paper where someone else had been elected. I guess I made them mad. Well, they didn’t say anything to me, but then I didn’t make application. Maybe they were just playing it safe. They knew I was trying for something else. I went back to Bentonville that weekend and some of them said, “We’re so sorry. We can’t get a good man but what they’ll let him go and get someone else.”
Emmilou Edmonds –
In the meantime [while you were in France], Mother had moved to Arkansas with her family. Is that right?
Carlos Collins --
Yes, that’s right. Sold the house or traded for a place in Bentonville, Arkansas.
I was discharged in Camp Bowie. Golda met me. She had a cousin or someone who lived in Dallas. She went there until I got my final papers and then went to Abilene for a few days with mother & father.
Then we went to Bentonville.
I needed a job. They thought I could get a job in Bentonville there at the school. They had said something to the county superintendent, asked him if there was an opening for me. He said, “I’ve got a job for you. You’re the type of man I want.”
They were having a consolidated school in Benton County. Consolidation was to be at Pea Ridge. He seemed to think I ought to know a lot about schools. I had never taught any school but one Saturday afternoon he had his buggy and his horse and took me over to Pea Ridge. We met with the trustees and apparently they hired me. School was going to open in not too long. I was going to teach Mathematics, I understood, and chemistry in the high school there. There had been a fellow in charge there – had lived there for ages and when school opened the school board came around and told me they wanted me in charge of it. I didn’t know what the other fellow would think about it and I asked what he thought about it. They said he was in favor of it. They brought him in and he was more than in favor of it – said that he didn’t know much about chemistry and that I could teach that and do the other too. So I got that job. I always said they promised me $100 per month. When they were going to put me in charge they reduced it to $90 and called me professor.
They were very much interested at that time in consolidated schools. The Farm and Ranch paper got information about that school at Pea Ridge and they sent a man out to interview me. They wrote an article in the magazine , had a picture of a school – it wasn’t our school – I think they had a picture of me.
I was doing fine there, going back to Bentonville on weekends. One weekend, Judge Dixon, who was in charge of the school board there in Bentonville, said, “Come over here. I want to talk to you. Let’s go into the bank.” He took me into the conference room. Said, “We’re going to make a change in our principal of the school here and we think you are the man we want.” It was quite a surprise to me and I said, “It’s interesting” or something like that. He wanted to know how much I wanted. I told him a lot more than I was getting at Pea Ridge. That had been the first thing offered me and I took it. I said I want $150 per month -- $1,800 per year anyway, but I wanted them to start paying me now. I guess it was $200 per month. School was out at Pea Ridge, but I wanted to be paid during the summer.
That gave me a chance to go to Abilene and finish a course during summer school to get my degree. I just lacked a little when I enlisted in the service. That was all right with him. After I got my degree, I came back.
Everybody said I was doing a good job. I didn’t think it was so good. But I found out there were a lot of different factions in the town – some dated way back. One bunch liked me – one bunch told me to do this – one bunch told me to do that. I didn’t make application to be reappointed. I thought if they wanted me they could do so.
I went down to the University of Arkansas during the summer, taking some kind of education course – work measurement or something, I don’t know.
In the meantime, I found out the Federal Government was going to have some openings for Vocational Teachers or something and they paid from what I was making up higher. I gave one of the school board members as a reference and while I was down at the University I saw in the paper where someone else had been elected. I guess I made them mad. Well, they didn’t say anything to me, but then I didn’t make application. Maybe they were just playing it safe. They knew I was trying for something else. I went back to Bentonville that weekend and some of them said, “We’re so sorry. We can’t get a good man but what they’ll let him go and get someone else.”
Cold in France
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Carlos Collins –
We went overseas in July 1918 – on the ship George Washington. I was detached from my company. I was kind of working under the division headquarters while I was going overseas because I was in charge of a look-out group from one deck and reported to Major in Charge. I got back with my company after we got overseas. Headquarters Company, 142nd Division.
Emmilou Edmonds –
When did you get back to the United States?
Carlos Collins –
In June, 1919. Later part.
Emmilou Edmonds –
Did you dock in New York?
Carlos Collins –
Hoboken, New Jersey – same as New York. Went out to Camp Mills for 2 or 3 days. Camp Mills was there several days before the division got to New York. Discharged in Camp Bowie.
[while overseas]
While I was in charge of a bunch of fellows (that was after the Armistice), we were billeted in a barn. I don’t know how many of us – must have been about 40 or 50. We were supposed to have enough heating wood – had a little stove I guess to heat up the place but we didn’t have enough. But there was a big chateau up there with would stacked up and I’d send a patrol out every night to get some of that wood to keep warm and I told them not to get too much, just enough for us or the big man in charge of the chateau would be jumping on the army about it. We got enough to keep warm.
I remember this little town was named Flogny [Flogny-la-Chapelle], France, close to Tonnerre. There were inspectors coming around with – medical inspectors – they were having a good bit of flu – came around to our barn looking around. Of course the Colonel of the Regiment was there. He was the same man who said the New Year incident wouldn’t affect my going to OCS [Officer Candidate School] so as far as he was concerned. He was along and the Medical Officer.
One Medical Officer said, “You have plenty of ventilation, don’t you? You don’t sleep with this all closed up.” We said, yes, we slept with it closed up. If we didn’t we’d freeze to death. He looked around and said, “Well, you’ve got lots of air space here, I guess that’s all right.” There was a Lieutenant or Captain who said he was glad we said we slept with it closed up. If we hadn’t he would have known we were lying.
Carlos Collins –
We went overseas in July 1918 – on the ship George Washington. I was detached from my company. I was kind of working under the division headquarters while I was going overseas because I was in charge of a look-out group from one deck and reported to Major in Charge. I got back with my company after we got overseas. Headquarters Company, 142nd Division.
Emmilou Edmonds –
When did you get back to the United States?
Carlos Collins –
In June, 1919. Later part.
Emmilou Edmonds –
Did you dock in New York?
Carlos Collins –
Hoboken, New Jersey – same as New York. Went out to Camp Mills for 2 or 3 days. Camp Mills was there several days before the division got to New York. Discharged in Camp Bowie.
[while overseas]
While I was in charge of a bunch of fellows (that was after the Armistice), we were billeted in a barn. I don’t know how many of us – must have been about 40 or 50. We were supposed to have enough heating wood – had a little stove I guess to heat up the place but we didn’t have enough. But there was a big chateau up there with would stacked up and I’d send a patrol out every night to get some of that wood to keep warm and I told them not to get too much, just enough for us or the big man in charge of the chateau would be jumping on the army about it. We got enough to keep warm.
I remember this little town was named Flogny [Flogny-la-Chapelle], France, close to Tonnerre. There were inspectors coming around with – medical inspectors – they were having a good bit of flu – came around to our barn looking around. Of course the Colonel of the Regiment was there. He was the same man who said the New Year incident wouldn’t affect my going to OCS [Officer Candidate School] so as far as he was concerned. He was along and the Medical Officer.
One Medical Officer said, “You have plenty of ventilation, don’t you? You don’t sleep with this all closed up.” We said, yes, we slept with it closed up. If we didn’t we’d freeze to death. He looked around and said, “Well, you’ve got lots of air space here, I guess that’s all right.” There was a Lieutenant or Captain who said he was glad we said we slept with it closed up. If we hadn’t he would have known we were lying.
An Unfortunate New Years Celebration
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Emmilou Edmonds –
I would like for you to tell me again about that New Years’ Eve escapade that kept you from going to Officer Candidate School.
Carlos Collins --
OK, let’s see. I was a sergeant in Headquarters Company, 142nd Infantry, located at Camp Bowie. I had gotten an appointment to go to Officers’ Training School sometime about the first of January 1918. I was on leave at home in Abilene. I got a call from my captain of my company notifying me that I had been selected and that I should come back. Came back and got there December 31st.
That night I was with 2 or 3 other sergeants in the Headquarters tent there and when midnight came sounded like all the whistles, etc. in Fort Worth were popping off. There were 2 or 3 guns in the orderly tent there with blank cartridges. We stepped outside and counted off one, two, three, and emptied guns in the air celebrating and the officer of the day was right there just caught us cold turkey. Got our names.
A day or two after that I got a call from the Colonel of the Regiment to come over. I went over, stood at attention, saluted him. He said, “Your name was turned in by the Officer of the Day as participating in something an officer shouldn’t be doing.” I told him exactly how it happened. He chewed me out pretty good. He said as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t going to affect my standing in the school. He said, “You’ve been selected to go out there but it was kind of poor recommendation for someone going to Officers’ School to take part in kid stuff.”
I waited around about a week; they sent me out there (another place in Fort Worth). As far as I knew, everything was going all right. I thought I was getting along fine, and in fact I was. I knew what I was doing. I had been to Texas A&M.
About a month or 6 weeks later (school was to last 3 months) I got a call from my captain to come back over to headquarters. He wanted to see me one night. He told me that the Colonel of the Regiment had gotten a call from the commanding general of the Camp wanting to know what action had been taken on the incident of that night. He told me I would have to see the Colonel and that he was going to ask me whether I wanted a Court Marshal or disciplinary action. He said I should ask for Disciplinary action because if you get Court Marshal on your record it won’t be very good.
So I went over there and went in a formal way, saluted him, and stood at attention and he said the commanding General has asked from me what action was taken on the incidents that happened concerning you and others on the night of January 1 (December 31) and he said you will have to take such disciplinary action as the commanding officer of the Regiment sees fit or go through a Court Marshal. I told him that whatever disciplinary action the Colonel was going to give that’s what I would take.
He said, “You are reduced to the rank of private.” I was a sergeant with a pretty good record. He said as far as he was concerned it wasn’t going to affect me at school. I went back to school and stayed the rest of the three months. I felt like there was something over my head all the time. But I thought I had studied three months and I was going to make it. They were kicking out people all the time that they weren’t going to commission. It was understood that for those they were going to commission there would be two weeks of paperwork, necessary correspondence, etc. Well, I had that and the last day of that, the commanding officer of the school came over and said that I had to report to the commanding General that they weren’t going to commission me because of that incident and that I could go back to my company.
It was kind of funny that I left the company as a sergeant and got back to it a private in the rear rank. My company commander said there was another school going to open up and he would recommend me to go there. I had had a belly full of that school and I told him I didn’t want to go to another school. If I had worked that hard and that’s what they’d do to me I didn’t want any more of it. He said, “Well, I’m going to recommend that your grade of sergeant be restored.”
It wasn’t very long after that I was expecting to go overseas with an advanced detachment. I think that what happened was that commanding officer of the regiment was in pretty bad races with the rest of the big army and he was afraid not to do something drastic there. The reason I think that is that it wasn’t too long after that that he was reduced to the rank of brigadier general (from major general) and was transferred somewhere.
Emmilou Edmonds –
Was this before or after you got married?
Carlos Collins –
That was afterwards – no, it was before.
Emmilou Edmonds –
I would like for you to tell me again about that New Years’ Eve escapade that kept you from going to Officer Candidate School.
Carlos Collins --
OK, let’s see. I was a sergeant in Headquarters Company, 142nd Infantry, located at Camp Bowie. I had gotten an appointment to go to Officers’ Training School sometime about the first of January 1918. I was on leave at home in Abilene. I got a call from my captain of my company notifying me that I had been selected and that I should come back. Came back and got there December 31st.
That night I was with 2 or 3 other sergeants in the Headquarters tent there and when midnight came sounded like all the whistles, etc. in Fort Worth were popping off. There were 2 or 3 guns in the orderly tent there with blank cartridges. We stepped outside and counted off one, two, three, and emptied guns in the air celebrating and the officer of the day was right there just caught us cold turkey. Got our names.
A day or two after that I got a call from the Colonel of the Regiment to come over. I went over, stood at attention, saluted him. He said, “Your name was turned in by the Officer of the Day as participating in something an officer shouldn’t be doing.” I told him exactly how it happened. He chewed me out pretty good. He said as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t going to affect my standing in the school. He said, “You’ve been selected to go out there but it was kind of poor recommendation for someone going to Officers’ School to take part in kid stuff.”
I waited around about a week; they sent me out there (another place in Fort Worth). As far as I knew, everything was going all right. I thought I was getting along fine, and in fact I was. I knew what I was doing. I had been to Texas A&M.
About a month or 6 weeks later (school was to last 3 months) I got a call from my captain to come back over to headquarters. He wanted to see me one night. He told me that the Colonel of the Regiment had gotten a call from the commanding general of the Camp wanting to know what action had been taken on the incident of that night. He told me I would have to see the Colonel and that he was going to ask me whether I wanted a Court Marshal or disciplinary action. He said I should ask for Disciplinary action because if you get Court Marshal on your record it won’t be very good.
So I went over there and went in a formal way, saluted him, and stood at attention and he said the commanding General has asked from me what action was taken on the incidents that happened concerning you and others on the night of January 1 (December 31) and he said you will have to take such disciplinary action as the commanding officer of the Regiment sees fit or go through a Court Marshal. I told him that whatever disciplinary action the Colonel was going to give that’s what I would take.
He said, “You are reduced to the rank of private.” I was a sergeant with a pretty good record. He said as far as he was concerned it wasn’t going to affect me at school. I went back to school and stayed the rest of the three months. I felt like there was something over my head all the time. But I thought I had studied three months and I was going to make it. They were kicking out people all the time that they weren’t going to commission. It was understood that for those they were going to commission there would be two weeks of paperwork, necessary correspondence, etc. Well, I had that and the last day of that, the commanding officer of the school came over and said that I had to report to the commanding General that they weren’t going to commission me because of that incident and that I could go back to my company.
It was kind of funny that I left the company as a sergeant and got back to it a private in the rear rank. My company commander said there was another school going to open up and he would recommend me to go there. I had had a belly full of that school and I told him I didn’t want to go to another school. If I had worked that hard and that’s what they’d do to me I didn’t want any more of it. He said, “Well, I’m going to recommend that your grade of sergeant be restored.”
It wasn’t very long after that I was expecting to go overseas with an advanced detachment. I think that what happened was that commanding officer of the regiment was in pretty bad races with the rest of the big army and he was afraid not to do something drastic there. The reason I think that is that it wasn’t too long after that that he was reduced to the rank of brigadier general (from major general) and was transferred somewhere.
Emmilou Edmonds –
Was this before or after you got married?
Carlos Collins –
That was afterwards – no, it was before.
Moving to El Paso County for Arthur’s Health
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Carlos Collins -
We lived in Abilene for a number of years. Ray [Ray Collins 1889-1984] and Arthur [Arthur Collins 1887-1908] were in college at that time. But Ray and Arthur both developed Typhoid Fever one summer and they were in pretty bad condition for awhile, especially Arthur. He never really got over it. After his fever left him, it was found out that the reason he didn’t recover quickly was that he had tuberculosis which required special care and at that time it was generally thought by the medical profession that the best way to treat TB was open air and travel. That was the main treatment, if any.
I know that Dad [Albert Buell Collins1862-1942] took Arthur one summer down in a covered wagon down south as far as Leakey and Uvalde. Spent nearly the whole summer traveling around but he didn’t recover.
Dad met a man in Abilene who had filed on some Texas School land out in El Paso County. He had 8 sections or a little more than 8 sections. He had some big sections. It required – I think they paid a dollar an acre for it – that he live on the land for 3 years. Well, he had lived on it about a year and a half and he wanted to get rid of it and Dad thought it would be a good place for Arthur – this for the family to live. Have a place that was dry and open, a kind of climate that was good for TB.
So Dad traded his farm in Fisher for his title to the land out there. It was over 5000 acres. They were camped out there and Arthur in a tent. He didn’t live very long and finally died out there in El Paso County, which is close to a little section house by the name of Plateau which is about 20 miles east of Van Horn, Texas.
So in view of the fact that the man who filed on it hadn’t lived on it the required 3 years we had to go out there and live on it for about 8 months before we could prove up on it and get clear title to the land. I don’t remember just how long we stayed there but it was about 1908 or so.
Finally we moved back to Fisher County and farmed the land I think that Uncle Uriah [Uriah Collins 1858-1960] had. They had moved away from there to Abilene for school purposes. But we went back to Fisher County and lived on his ranch there and by that time Beulah and I were ready for High school and we went to high school in Roby.
Carlos Collins -
We lived in Abilene for a number of years. Ray [Ray Collins 1889-1984] and Arthur [Arthur Collins 1887-1908] were in college at that time. But Ray and Arthur both developed Typhoid Fever one summer and they were in pretty bad condition for awhile, especially Arthur. He never really got over it. After his fever left him, it was found out that the reason he didn’t recover quickly was that he had tuberculosis which required special care and at that time it was generally thought by the medical profession that the best way to treat TB was open air and travel. That was the main treatment, if any.
I know that Dad [Albert Buell Collins1862-1942] took Arthur one summer down in a covered wagon down south as far as Leakey and Uvalde. Spent nearly the whole summer traveling around but he didn’t recover.
Dad met a man in Abilene who had filed on some Texas School land out in El Paso County. He had 8 sections or a little more than 8 sections. He had some big sections. It required – I think they paid a dollar an acre for it – that he live on the land for 3 years. Well, he had lived on it about a year and a half and he wanted to get rid of it and Dad thought it would be a good place for Arthur – this for the family to live. Have a place that was dry and open, a kind of climate that was good for TB.
So Dad traded his farm in Fisher for his title to the land out there. It was over 5000 acres. They were camped out there and Arthur in a tent. He didn’t live very long and finally died out there in El Paso County, which is close to a little section house by the name of Plateau which is about 20 miles east of Van Horn, Texas.
So in view of the fact that the man who filed on it hadn’t lived on it the required 3 years we had to go out there and live on it for about 8 months before we could prove up on it and get clear title to the land. I don’t remember just how long we stayed there but it was about 1908 or so.
Finally we moved back to Fisher County and farmed the land I think that Uncle Uriah [Uriah Collins 1858-1960] had. They had moved away from there to Abilene for school purposes. But we went back to Fisher County and lived on his ranch there and by that time Beulah and I were ready for High school and we went to high school in Roby.
School in West Texas
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Carlos Collins -
When Arthur [Arthur Collins 1887-1908] had finished about what was equal to a grade school and he wanted to go on to college, we found out if we went into Abilene he could enter Simmons College, that is, the Academy department. I guess it was the equivalent of a high school these days and they decided we’d move to Abilene and put all the kids in school. Of course Arthur went into Academy at Simmons College and Ray, myself, and Beulah went into the grade schools in Abilene.
They were pretty good schools but they were strictly graded and we didn’t get there until late in the fall – I guess November. School had been going two months and we were kind of [behind]. The school teachers didn’t like it because they didn’t know where to place us. We hadn’t been in a grade school, but just a country school which if you did all right in one thing that was OK, but they weren’t graded. So when they put us into a class we didn’t know anything about what they were starting, they had already been going for two or three months and we were kind of in a bad way.
They kept putting us back and putting us back. Finally they put us back too far, I know that. It wasn’t long before they found out we really did know a little something and they put us forward, kept promoting us. Finally it took almost the whole year to get us to the place we properly belonged.
It wasn’t too pleasant to start that way. But I guess we outlived it. The teachers and the management finally decided we weren’t as dumb as they thought we were at the start.
Carlos Collins -
When Arthur [Arthur Collins 1887-1908] had finished about what was equal to a grade school and he wanted to go on to college, we found out if we went into Abilene he could enter Simmons College, that is, the Academy department. I guess it was the equivalent of a high school these days and they decided we’d move to Abilene and put all the kids in school. Of course Arthur went into Academy at Simmons College and Ray, myself, and Beulah went into the grade schools in Abilene.
They were pretty good schools but they were strictly graded and we didn’t get there until late in the fall – I guess November. School had been going two months and we were kind of [behind]. The school teachers didn’t like it because they didn’t know where to place us. We hadn’t been in a grade school, but just a country school which if you did all right in one thing that was OK, but they weren’t graded. So when they put us into a class we didn’t know anything about what they were starting, they had already been going for two or three months and we were kind of in a bad way.
They kept putting us back and putting us back. Finally they put us back too far, I know that. It wasn’t long before they found out we really did know a little something and they put us forward, kept promoting us. Finally it took almost the whole year to get us to the place we properly belonged.
It wasn’t too pleasant to start that way. But I guess we outlived it. The teachers and the management finally decided we weren’t as dumb as they thought we were at the start.
Why I Lived at the PO
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Carlos Collins --
After we had been in Fisher County three or four years, Dad bought an adjoining farm. The owner of the farm was the postmaster at that time, so we took over the new farmhouse and the post office and a little store.
And mother [Amanda Jane Perryman Collins ] officially became the postmistress of the city of Fisher, Fisher County, Texas, population 3. No, 3 boys and mother and father. [Population 5]
It was quite interesting to note that the mail came from Roby on north through Fisher – that was the name of the post office – then Dowell, then Dars [I can’t find a record of Dars, Texas] then Dowell, and I believe there was another one called Double Mountain.
The mail man was in what they called a mail hack. He brought the mail – the Fisher mail up to the end of the line. It was in kind of a hack they called it drawn by horses. He would make the round trip in one day and would pick up the mail as he came back. So that was probably interesting to people of the present day.
But there’s another thing – we had a telephone at this post office. Really, it was in our house and it was the only telephone in the whole community around there. And we had a special ring for our number – I forget the number but that’s immaterial – I mean the number of rings it would make. But they had ones at Fisher, Dars, Dowell, and Double Mountain. Well, they all had different signals, but it was interesting to note that some other telephone other than ours was called – you’d get kind of interested to know what was going on. So you could lift up the receiver and hear what the news was, if there was any. And you could also hear the different receivers being taken off the hook all the way along the line.
Some of these telephone lines they used the wire fences, where they had a wire fence of considerable length. Otherwise they would string them up on mesquite poles along the line.
Another thing being the only telephone in the community, there’d be an emergency call they’d want somebody that lived around in that community on an emergency. So we would saddle a horse and ride over and have them come answer the telephone. Sometimes we would get a nickel or dime for this kind of work. Most of the time, we didn’t get anything for doing that.
Carlos Collins --
After we had been in Fisher County three or four years, Dad bought an adjoining farm. The owner of the farm was the postmaster at that time, so we took over the new farmhouse and the post office and a little store.
And mother [Amanda Jane Perryman Collins ] officially became the postmistress of the city of Fisher, Fisher County, Texas, population 3. No, 3 boys and mother and father. [Population 5]
It was quite interesting to note that the mail came from Roby on north through Fisher – that was the name of the post office – then Dowell, then Dars [I can’t find a record of Dars, Texas] then Dowell, and I believe there was another one called Double Mountain.
The mail man was in what they called a mail hack. He brought the mail – the Fisher mail up to the end of the line. It was in kind of a hack they called it drawn by horses. He would make the round trip in one day and would pick up the mail as he came back. So that was probably interesting to people of the present day.
But there’s another thing – we had a telephone at this post office. Really, it was in our house and it was the only telephone in the whole community around there. And we had a special ring for our number – I forget the number but that’s immaterial – I mean the number of rings it would make. But they had ones at Fisher, Dars, Dowell, and Double Mountain. Well, they all had different signals, but it was interesting to note that some other telephone other than ours was called – you’d get kind of interested to know what was going on. So you could lift up the receiver and hear what the news was, if there was any. And you could also hear the different receivers being taken off the hook all the way along the line.
Some of these telephone lines they used the wire fences, where they had a wire fence of considerable length. Otherwise they would string them up on mesquite poles along the line.
Another thing being the only telephone in the community, there’d be an emergency call they’d want somebody that lived around in that community on an emergency. So we would saddle a horse and ride over and have them come answer the telephone. Sometimes we would get a nickel or dime for this kind of work. Most of the time, we didn’t get anything for doing that.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
A Rattlesnake Story
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Carlos Collins –
I have a rattlesnake story I would like to reveal to you at this time.
When we lived in Fisher County and I was about 12 or 13 years old, we milked about 6 or 8 cows. The cows would be out in the pasture during the daytime, and the calves would be in the corral during the day. At night, the cows would come home and we would milk them and we would turn the calves out in the pasture for the night.
After the calves got to be pretty good size and were able to do a lot of grazing, they wouldn’t come back to the corral promptly at milking time and sometimes I had to go and round them up.
One of these mornings, when they failed to come back to the corral at the barn, I rode my horse out to round them up and one day in the course of my work, I rode by a prairie dog hole and I saw a rattlesnake and when I came up close and was going to kill it, it went down in the prairie dog hole. And knowing the habits of a rattlesnake, I got me a pole and commenced poking some dirt down in the hole. The rattlesnake came up to where I could see him a little and I kept jabbing at him and finally I jabbed the snake and crippled it. It continued, though, to rattle and but finally position [sic] where I could kill the snake.
I had it outside and the first thing I knew a little small rattler about a foot long came out of the hole – a little fellow looking around and acting like he wanted to fight. And I killed that one and here came another one and I killed it. Then I messed around and here was another one and finally they came out thick and fast. Finally, I counted up my little rattlers and my big rattler and there were twenty-five rattlers that I killed before breakfast one morning.
So that’s the biggest rattlesnake store I have to tell. But it’s the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me.
Carlos Collins –
I have a rattlesnake story I would like to reveal to you at this time.
When we lived in Fisher County and I was about 12 or 13 years old, we milked about 6 or 8 cows. The cows would be out in the pasture during the daytime, and the calves would be in the corral during the day. At night, the cows would come home and we would milk them and we would turn the calves out in the pasture for the night.
After the calves got to be pretty good size and were able to do a lot of grazing, they wouldn’t come back to the corral promptly at milking time and sometimes I had to go and round them up.
One of these mornings, when they failed to come back to the corral at the barn, I rode my horse out to round them up and one day in the course of my work, I rode by a prairie dog hole and I saw a rattlesnake and when I came up close and was going to kill it, it went down in the prairie dog hole. And knowing the habits of a rattlesnake, I got me a pole and commenced poking some dirt down in the hole. The rattlesnake came up to where I could see him a little and I kept jabbing at him and finally I jabbed the snake and crippled it. It continued, though, to rattle and but finally position [sic] where I could kill the snake.
I had it outside and the first thing I knew a little small rattler about a foot long came out of the hole – a little fellow looking around and acting like he wanted to fight. And I killed that one and here came another one and I killed it. Then I messed around and here was another one and finally they came out thick and fast. Finally, I counted up my little rattlers and my big rattler and there were twenty-five rattlers that I killed before breakfast one morning.
So that’s the biggest rattlesnake store I have to tell. But it’s the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Moving to Fisher County Texas
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Background –
When Carlos was 10 years old, the family moved to Fisher County, Texas [from Bell County].
Carlos Collins –
Grandfather Barber (Uncle U. Collins’s father-in-law) [Stillman Barber, 1821-1907], was from Gonzales, moved to Fisher County. He bought a ranch of 5 to 6 thousand acres. He was a widower. Roughnecks were stealing his cattle. He persuaded Uncle U. [Uriah Collins 1858-1960] to come and take charge of the ranch. ABC [Albert Buell Collins] bought several hundred acres from Father Barber.
[Note: Carlos Collins said that at one time “Father Barber” was sued for Breach of Promise.]
When I was about 8 or 9 years old, Dad [Albert Buell Collins] sold his farm [in Bell County]and moved to Fisher County. It was 300 miles from where we lived near Holland. We moved in a covered wagon. There were two wagons and one surrey. I remember it took us about two weeks to get out there. We couldn’t go very far each day and I believe Aunt Emma [Emma Perryman, 1862-1949], mother’s sister, was along, and also George Bradshaw [1879-1959], a son of mother’s sister Sitha [Sitha Ann Perryman, 1849-1937].
When we first moved to Fisher County, our farmhouse was not far from a rural schoolhouse. I think it was called Fisher School. There would be church services there almost every Sunday, but including first the Baptists, then the Methodists, then the Presbyterians, then the Campbellites or Christian Church, then the hard-shell Baptists, the Holiness and they wouldn’t, they had to take a turn about. In other words there was a church service there of some kind almost every Sunday. The Baptists took their turn about every two or three weeks. But we attended everything and we learned a good deal, a little bit about the doctrine of each church. We knew the Baptists baptized ‘em, the Methodists poured the water on ‘em, and the Presbyterians, I believe they do both and the Campbellites, they baptized them. They had to baptize them right away, the way we understood. It wasn’t far from the Clear Fork Creek which was less than a mile from the school house. We saw baptisms in all the ways. I don’t know whether I mentioned the hard-shell Baptists. They were there about every two or three months and they observed what was called the ordinance of foot-washing. Well, we took that in. In other words, it was interesting to know; you had quite an education as far as the doctrine of religious organizations was concerned.
The farm that we bought in Fisher County consisted of about six or seven hundred acres. There was about 100 acres in cultivation. It was in the valley of the Clear fork of the Brazos River. It was real rich land. The first year we raised about a bale of cotton to the acre which is an exceedingly good record for a farm and they thought we were going to get rich fast. Well, the next two or three years it was either dry or droughty or one year the grasshoppers ate up everything almost. We had a nice crop of cotton or corn and maize growing and then when grasshoppers came and they just stripped everything. Of course we had worked the crop and it was in pretty good condition. That is, we had worked the ground to keep the weeds down, and then the grasshoppers ate the crop. It started raining then. It was a Colorado grass; I’ve not seen much of that kind. It grew fine and we had a hundred acres of that grass. Well, we didn’t know at that time that it was exceptionally good hay grass. But it turned out that we bought mowing machines and balers and I think we made more money on it that year than if we had had it in cotton. Somehow or other on the following years it never did rain the right time to grow the Colorado grass.
We had several horses and mules. We had 5 or 6 old mares and we raised a mule colt nearly every year. We had 50 or 60 head of cattle, I think. So we had a kind of combination farm and ranch and we got along one way or another. We had chickens, hogs, etc. I recall one time that we had what we called a beef club in the neighborhood. In order to have fresh meat – I think there were about 8 people in this club. They’d kill a yearling calf. They had a certain time to kill them and divide that up among the members of the beef club so we had reasonably fresh meat a good bit of the time.
Background –
When Carlos was 10 years old, the family moved to Fisher County, Texas [from Bell County].
Carlos Collins –
Grandfather Barber (Uncle U. Collins’s father-in-law) [Stillman Barber, 1821-1907], was from Gonzales, moved to Fisher County. He bought a ranch of 5 to 6 thousand acres. He was a widower. Roughnecks were stealing his cattle. He persuaded Uncle U. [Uriah Collins 1858-1960] to come and take charge of the ranch. ABC [Albert Buell Collins] bought several hundred acres from Father Barber.
[Note: Carlos Collins said that at one time “Father Barber” was sued for Breach of Promise.]
When I was about 8 or 9 years old, Dad [Albert Buell Collins] sold his farm [in Bell County]and moved to Fisher County. It was 300 miles from where we lived near Holland. We moved in a covered wagon. There were two wagons and one surrey. I remember it took us about two weeks to get out there. We couldn’t go very far each day and I believe Aunt Emma [Emma Perryman, 1862-1949], mother’s sister, was along, and also George Bradshaw [1879-1959], a son of mother’s sister Sitha [Sitha Ann Perryman, 1849-1937].
When we first moved to Fisher County, our farmhouse was not far from a rural schoolhouse. I think it was called Fisher School. There would be church services there almost every Sunday, but including first the Baptists, then the Methodists, then the Presbyterians, then the Campbellites or Christian Church, then the hard-shell Baptists, the Holiness and they wouldn’t, they had to take a turn about. In other words there was a church service there of some kind almost every Sunday. The Baptists took their turn about every two or three weeks. But we attended everything and we learned a good deal, a little bit about the doctrine of each church. We knew the Baptists baptized ‘em, the Methodists poured the water on ‘em, and the Presbyterians, I believe they do both and the Campbellites, they baptized them. They had to baptize them right away, the way we understood. It wasn’t far from the Clear Fork Creek which was less than a mile from the school house. We saw baptisms in all the ways. I don’t know whether I mentioned the hard-shell Baptists. They were there about every two or three months and they observed what was called the ordinance of foot-washing. Well, we took that in. In other words, it was interesting to know; you had quite an education as far as the doctrine of religious organizations was concerned.
The farm that we bought in Fisher County consisted of about six or seven hundred acres. There was about 100 acres in cultivation. It was in the valley of the Clear fork of the Brazos River. It was real rich land. The first year we raised about a bale of cotton to the acre which is an exceedingly good record for a farm and they thought we were going to get rich fast. Well, the next two or three years it was either dry or droughty or one year the grasshoppers ate up everything almost. We had a nice crop of cotton or corn and maize growing and then when grasshoppers came and they just stripped everything. Of course we had worked the crop and it was in pretty good condition. That is, we had worked the ground to keep the weeds down, and then the grasshoppers ate the crop. It started raining then. It was a Colorado grass; I’ve not seen much of that kind. It grew fine and we had a hundred acres of that grass. Well, we didn’t know at that time that it was exceptionally good hay grass. But it turned out that we bought mowing machines and balers and I think we made more money on it that year than if we had had it in cotton. Somehow or other on the following years it never did rain the right time to grow the Colorado grass.
We had several horses and mules. We had 5 or 6 old mares and we raised a mule colt nearly every year. We had 50 or 60 head of cattle, I think. So we had a kind of combination farm and ranch and we got along one way or another. We had chickens, hogs, etc. I recall one time that we had what we called a beef club in the neighborhood. In order to have fresh meat – I think there were about 8 people in this club. They’d kill a yearling calf. They had a certain time to kill them and divide that up among the members of the beef club so we had reasonably fresh meat a good bit of the time.
On the Farm in Bell County Texas
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Carlos Collins –
I thought it would be a good idea to tell you some more experiences on the farm in Bell County before we made this journey to Fisher County. I recall that one day my dad [Albert Buell Collins, 1862-1942] was plowing with a turning plow. He was bedding up the land in rows preparing for planting later on. It was a walking plow. He had a team of horses and he walked behind guiding the plow and I was walking along behind him and once in a while he would let me hold the plow handle. Then he asked me if I thought I could plow. Well, I told him I thought I could. The next day, he brought another team and put me to plowing. I could hold the plow pretty well, but I had some trouble when I got to the end of the row and had to turn the plow and come back. So he would help me do that. So I did that kind of work for a day or two and I thought I was quite a farmer by that time. But that’s the first real work I remember being on the farm and I thought I was getting ready to retire I had done such a good job.
I might tell you about how us boys helped my mother, if you can call it helping her, to break an old hen from setting. Sometimes an old hen, if you don’t know it, used to lay an egg every day or so and she would get to the place where she ought to set them and hatch ‘em. But we, of course, would gather them up every day. But these old particular hens would sit on the nest and not do anything. My oldest brother, Arthur [Arthur Collins, 1887-1908], of course with our support, decided we would fix the old hen to break her from such a habit. So we would get a hold of the old hen and tie a shuck to her tail and pitch her out and kind of give her a shove and she’d get excited and just run herself to death nearly. Of course my mother, when she found out, put a stop to such ideas.
Carlos Collins –
I thought it would be a good idea to tell you some more experiences on the farm in Bell County before we made this journey to Fisher County. I recall that one day my dad [Albert Buell Collins, 1862-1942] was plowing with a turning plow. He was bedding up the land in rows preparing for planting later on. It was a walking plow. He had a team of horses and he walked behind guiding the plow and I was walking along behind him and once in a while he would let me hold the plow handle. Then he asked me if I thought I could plow. Well, I told him I thought I could. The next day, he brought another team and put me to plowing. I could hold the plow pretty well, but I had some trouble when I got to the end of the row and had to turn the plow and come back. So he would help me do that. So I did that kind of work for a day or two and I thought I was quite a farmer by that time. But that’s the first real work I remember being on the farm and I thought I was getting ready to retire I had done such a good job.
I might tell you about how us boys helped my mother, if you can call it helping her, to break an old hen from setting. Sometimes an old hen, if you don’t know it, used to lay an egg every day or so and she would get to the place where she ought to set them and hatch ‘em. But we, of course, would gather them up every day. But these old particular hens would sit on the nest and not do anything. My oldest brother, Arthur [Arthur Collins, 1887-1908], of course with our support, decided we would fix the old hen to break her from such a habit. So we would get a hold of the old hen and tie a shuck to her tail and pitch her out and kind of give her a shove and she’d get excited and just run herself to death nearly. Of course my mother, when she found out, put a stop to such ideas.
Carlos Was a Stubborn Boy
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Carlos Collins –
I’ve been just rambling around in my talk. This comes to mind. I don’t know about the earliest I can remember. I know I wore dresses and I don’t think I had any what I call drawers on at that time. Thinking I did something naughty and my mother [Amanda Jane Perryman Collins, 1860-1945] was going to punish me. I didn’t do something she wanted me to do and finally she took me over her lap and pulled up my little old dress and began spanking me on my little bare behind. And I kept saying, “It don’t hurt. It don’t hurt” and she kept putting it on a little stronger and finally she had to put the power and I bust out crying still saying, “It don’t hurt. It don’t hurt. It don’t hurt”. I have a vague remembrance of it, but my mother has told me about it a number of times. It seems that then I was kind of a stubborn guy who had a lot of nerve but very poor judgment.
Carlos Collins –
I’ve been just rambling around in my talk. This comes to mind. I don’t know about the earliest I can remember. I know I wore dresses and I don’t think I had any what I call drawers on at that time. Thinking I did something naughty and my mother [Amanda Jane Perryman Collins, 1860-1945] was going to punish me. I didn’t do something she wanted me to do and finally she took me over her lap and pulled up my little old dress and began spanking me on my little bare behind. And I kept saying, “It don’t hurt. It don’t hurt” and she kept putting it on a little stronger and finally she had to put the power and I bust out crying still saying, “It don’t hurt. It don’t hurt. It don’t hurt”. I have a vague remembrance of it, but my mother has told me about it a number of times. It seems that then I was kind of a stubborn guy who had a lot of nerve but very poor judgment.
 |
| Carlos is the one in the "dress" |
The 1890s in Bell County Texas
[This is an excerpt from a transcript of interviews between Emmilou Collins Edmonds Adams and her father, Carlos C. Collins, recorded February 14, 1982. Passages in italics are his actual words, although portions may have been omitted for brevity. Portions in brackets [] were added for clarification.]
Carlos Collins –
I don’t need to tell you my age, but I was born in Bell County, Texas, in 1891. So at this particular time I am 91 years and one month old. We lived on a farm in Bell County about 12 miles south of the city of Holland. The farm was located right near and just west of the Katy Railroad.
It was in between the Houston brothers farm and ranch and the Archer farm and ranch to the east of us and the Houston ranch was to the south. And there was also a Parrott farm east of us. Then the Garrison farm was a little bit north and west. I remember that there were two Garrisons. We called them Uncle John and Uncle Joe. I think they were both bachelors. Dad [Albert Buell Collins] worked for them before he married mother [Amanda Jane Perryman]. He was working there and I remember he said that they encouraged him to go back and get married and they would help finance a farm – which he did. We always referred to them as Uncle Joe and Uncle John Garrison.
I remember this – just a year or so before we moved to Fisher County, that I was at the wedding of Governor Jim Ferguson and his wife. (He wasn’t governor then.) His wife was the daughter of Joe Wallace near Belton. We were considered neighbors and were invited to the wedding. I was intrigued to see an artesian well on the Wallace farm. I had never seen water flow out of a well without a pump or being pulled up by a bucket.
Emmilou Edmonds –
Before we found out that I wasn’t recording, you were talking about the cemetery there. I’d like for you to tell me more about that again.
Carlos Collins –
There’s a cemetery near, between where we lived and Belton which is the county seat and it was at a little settlement called Center Lake. There was a school house and some other community activities at the school house. Center Lake – I mean the lake – I remember it was one of 3 lakes close by and it was in the middle and called Center Lake. Was there anything else you wanted me to tell about the cemetery?
Emmilou Edmonds –
Yes, you were telling me about the folks that were buried there.
Carlos Collins –
Oh, yes. I remember that Uncle Mac [Nathaniel Maxwell Collins 1823-1912], my father’s uncle, who was the brother of my father’s father, being buried there and also his wife. Aunt Myra, we called her. And the twin brother of Ray, my brother, died in infancy was buried there and I’m pretty sure there was a stone placed on his grave in a place in the cemetery close to some of the other Collins’ there.
[Note: According to Find A Grave and his death certificate, N M Collins died and is buried in Nolan County, Texas, not Bell County.]
Emmilou Edmonds –
I came across a Perryman listed in the church that you told me you had gone to. I was wondering, did grandmother maybe have a brother who had come there, too?
Carlos Collins –
Yes, his name was Uncle Warren [Warren Perryman 1854-1917]. He didn’t live there all the time. I don’t remember when he came on the scene. He married in Texas there, one of the Archer girls that lived on the farm east of us. I remember being at their house when she was real sick because it seemed that all the neighbors came around. I remember being there when she passed away. He came to Texas after mother and dad did. I remember that.
Emmilou Edmonds –
What do you remember about the church?
Carlos Collins –
Well, it was called Post Oak Grove Church. It was between where we lived and Holland. And I remember that’s where we went to church and I remember they’d have camp meetings – evangelistic services sometime during the year. And sometime they had kind of a brush arbor place to meet during the summertime and there was a church there. And I remember that Dr. Green [William Pinkney Green, 1837-1907, the grandfather of Carlos’ first wife, Golda Prince] preached there once or so.
Carlos Collins –
I don’t need to tell you my age, but I was born in Bell County, Texas, in 1891. So at this particular time I am 91 years and one month old. We lived on a farm in Bell County about 12 miles south of the city of Holland. The farm was located right near and just west of the Katy Railroad.
It was in between the Houston brothers farm and ranch and the Archer farm and ranch to the east of us and the Houston ranch was to the south. And there was also a Parrott farm east of us. Then the Garrison farm was a little bit north and west. I remember that there were two Garrisons. We called them Uncle John and Uncle Joe. I think they were both bachelors. Dad [Albert Buell Collins] worked for them before he married mother [Amanda Jane Perryman]. He was working there and I remember he said that they encouraged him to go back and get married and they would help finance a farm – which he did. We always referred to them as Uncle Joe and Uncle John Garrison.
I remember this – just a year or so before we moved to Fisher County, that I was at the wedding of Governor Jim Ferguson and his wife. (He wasn’t governor then.) His wife was the daughter of Joe Wallace near Belton. We were considered neighbors and were invited to the wedding. I was intrigued to see an artesian well on the Wallace farm. I had never seen water flow out of a well without a pump or being pulled up by a bucket.
Emmilou Edmonds –
Before we found out that I wasn’t recording, you were talking about the cemetery there. I’d like for you to tell me more about that again.
Carlos Collins –
There’s a cemetery near, between where we lived and Belton which is the county seat and it was at a little settlement called Center Lake. There was a school house and some other community activities at the school house. Center Lake – I mean the lake – I remember it was one of 3 lakes close by and it was in the middle and called Center Lake. Was there anything else you wanted me to tell about the cemetery?
Emmilou Edmonds –
Yes, you were telling me about the folks that were buried there.
Carlos Collins –
Oh, yes. I remember that Uncle Mac [Nathaniel Maxwell Collins 1823-1912], my father’s uncle, who was the brother of my father’s father, being buried there and also his wife. Aunt Myra, we called her. And the twin brother of Ray, my brother, died in infancy was buried there and I’m pretty sure there was a stone placed on his grave in a place in the cemetery close to some of the other Collins’ there.
[Note: According to Find A Grave and his death certificate, N M Collins died and is buried in Nolan County, Texas, not Bell County.]
Emmilou Edmonds –
I came across a Perryman listed in the church that you told me you had gone to. I was wondering, did grandmother maybe have a brother who had come there, too?
Carlos Collins –
Yes, his name was Uncle Warren [Warren Perryman 1854-1917]. He didn’t live there all the time. I don’t remember when he came on the scene. He married in Texas there, one of the Archer girls that lived on the farm east of us. I remember being at their house when she was real sick because it seemed that all the neighbors came around. I remember being there when she passed away. He came to Texas after mother and dad did. I remember that.
Emmilou Edmonds –
What do you remember about the church?
Carlos Collins –
Well, it was called Post Oak Grove Church. It was between where we lived and Holland. And I remember that’s where we went to church and I remember they’d have camp meetings – evangelistic services sometime during the year. And sometime they had kind of a brush arbor place to meet during the summertime and there was a church there. And I remember that Dr. Green [William Pinkney Green, 1837-1907, the grandfather of Carlos’ first wife, Golda Prince] preached there once or so.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Grandmother’s Flower Garden Quilt
This is a not-quite-verbatim transcription of a recording of Mom talking about the quilt that she made.
Anna: So, Mom, tell us about this quilt. It’s the green one with the flower design.
Mom: The making of this quilt which is called a Grandmother’s Flower Garden has quite a history. It took me about 60 years to get it made. I started out when I was in high school, maybe between the first and last year, maybe the year before that. I spent the summer with my cousin Emmagene in New Mexico and she was making a Flower Garden quilt and so I had to start my own while I was there.
Anna: So, Mom, let me interrupt you for a second. I’ve seen some pictures of you at about that age with some horses and all. So that was that summer that you spent with Emmagene?
Mom: Yes it was. I, didn’t, of course, get very many made, but I kept going after I went home and I picked up some of the fabrics from clothing that I had. And my grandmother then made…I probably pieced a third of the blocks and she pieced two thirds would be my guess. Of course I would have given up long before that and gotten rid of the blocks, given them to somebody else or something if she hadn’t had a hand in it.
Anna: Which grandmother was that?
Mom: This was Grandmother Collins. And so I kept it and kept on going and then but I had never put them together, and this one being a hexagon was difficult to put together. As difficult as piecing the blocks. Obviously this is not a good quilt for a beginner. There are many many that would have been better than that, but that was what my cousin was piecing so I did the same. I’ll interrupt the thought for a minute and say that many many years later when I was visiting my cousin I asked her if she ever finished hers and she did but later like I did but not as late as I did. In the 40s or early 50s I decided I would put them together. Now at that time I had 3 children and was expecting the fourth I think was the way of it. Either that or 2 and expecting the third. I decided I just couldn’t give any time to it. But had bought the fabric which originally I was planning to put like I had seen in a picture green around each block and then put a white one that would put it together which was supposed to be a walk in the flower garden. But anyway I decided that because it was so hard I would just give one row to it which would be the green one and it’s a bright green which is typical of the time, the fabrics and colors used at that time, but not at the beginning when I started the blocks. So it’s a little bit unusual to see this one put together with green and if it is it’s usually light green but this is a full strong green.
Anna: So you’re saying that the flower blocks are a little bit more muted in tone than the bright green that you bought in the late 40s or early 50s to be the part in between.
Mom: That’s correct. And another thing I hated to give up was the blocks that were made with fabrics that had been my clothing. And in order to mark them some way, but not stand out too much I did a little embroidery of the center of the ones where they were made with my clothing.
Anna: I see one here that is a solid yellow and you did outline it in yellow, a yellow chainstitch.
Mom: Right, it was a yellow chainstitch.
Anna: So you didn’t do every yellow one, but you found a yellow one that was yellow and did it with the chain.
Mom: That’s right. I didn’t want it to stand out too much but I wanted to mark it.
Anna: Cool. Now I know what to look for.
Mom: And so then time went by and I still didn’t do any more. I had about 3 blocks put together I think. It was just too much and I kept it and I had it for years and years and years. Several times I tried to give the blocks to friends that were quilters but they knew that I would be sorry if I did.
Anna: Plus, they probably thought it was hard.
Mom: Well, I’m sure that’s true too. So, after I married Charles, we would make frequent trips to see his folks and I could listen but I couldn’t participate very much in the talk because I didn’t know anything. And so this gave me something to do while I listened to the talk. So I would take some and put them together and finally got through with that. At that time, putting figured material on the back was popular in quilts. So instead of putting the back as just white muslin, I found this flower garden pattern (or rather I shouldn’t say that since that gets mixed up with the pattern itself of the quilt), but it has I think maybe roses or something on it It’s some red/pink flowers which seemed appropriate if anything and so I decided to make that the backing. By that time I had arranged to borrow a quilting frame a small quilting frame from a friend and I kept it set up in our living room for a year while quilted it.
Anna: So it took you about a year to do the quilting part after it was pieced.
Mom: And it was a small quilting frame so it didn’t take up a lot of room. But it sat there in the living room for that time. Oh you could move the whole thing out of the room, I mean it was small enough to move through the door so you could move it out if you had company or something like that, so we did that occasionally but not very often.
Anna: Well that is cool.
Anna: So, Mom, tell us about this quilt. It’s the green one with the flower design.
Mom: The making of this quilt which is called a Grandmother’s Flower Garden has quite a history. It took me about 60 years to get it made. I started out when I was in high school, maybe between the first and last year, maybe the year before that. I spent the summer with my cousin Emmagene in New Mexico and she was making a Flower Garden quilt and so I had to start my own while I was there.
Anna: So, Mom, let me interrupt you for a second. I’ve seen some pictures of you at about that age with some horses and all. So that was that summer that you spent with Emmagene?
Mom: Yes it was. I, didn’t, of course, get very many made, but I kept going after I went home and I picked up some of the fabrics from clothing that I had. And my grandmother then made…I probably pieced a third of the blocks and she pieced two thirds would be my guess. Of course I would have given up long before that and gotten rid of the blocks, given them to somebody else or something if she hadn’t had a hand in it.
Anna: Which grandmother was that?
Mom: This was Grandmother Collins. And so I kept it and kept on going and then but I had never put them together, and this one being a hexagon was difficult to put together. As difficult as piecing the blocks. Obviously this is not a good quilt for a beginner. There are many many that would have been better than that, but that was what my cousin was piecing so I did the same. I’ll interrupt the thought for a minute and say that many many years later when I was visiting my cousin I asked her if she ever finished hers and she did but later like I did but not as late as I did. In the 40s or early 50s I decided I would put them together. Now at that time I had 3 children and was expecting the fourth I think was the way of it. Either that or 2 and expecting the third. I decided I just couldn’t give any time to it. But had bought the fabric which originally I was planning to put like I had seen in a picture green around each block and then put a white one that would put it together which was supposed to be a walk in the flower garden. But anyway I decided that because it was so hard I would just give one row to it which would be the green one and it’s a bright green which is typical of the time, the fabrics and colors used at that time, but not at the beginning when I started the blocks. So it’s a little bit unusual to see this one put together with green and if it is it’s usually light green but this is a full strong green.
Anna: So you’re saying that the flower blocks are a little bit more muted in tone than the bright green that you bought in the late 40s or early 50s to be the part in between.
Mom: That’s correct. And another thing I hated to give up was the blocks that were made with fabrics that had been my clothing. And in order to mark them some way, but not stand out too much I did a little embroidery of the center of the ones where they were made with my clothing.
Anna: I see one here that is a solid yellow and you did outline it in yellow, a yellow chainstitch. Mom: Right, it was a yellow chainstitch.
Anna: So you didn’t do every yellow one, but you found a yellow one that was yellow and did it with the chain.
Mom: That’s right. I didn’t want it to stand out too much but I wanted to mark it.
Anna: Cool. Now I know what to look for.
Mom: And so then time went by and I still didn’t do any more. I had about 3 blocks put together I think. It was just too much and I kept it and I had it for years and years and years. Several times I tried to give the blocks to friends that were quilters but they knew that I would be sorry if I did.
Anna: Plus, they probably thought it was hard.
Mom: Well, I’m sure that’s true too. So, after I married Charles, we would make frequent trips to see his folks and I could listen but I couldn’t participate very much in the talk because I didn’t know anything. And so this gave me something to do while I listened to the talk. So I would take some and put them together and finally got through with that. At that time, putting figured material on the back was popular in quilts. So instead of putting the back as just white muslin, I found this flower garden pattern (or rather I shouldn’t say that since that gets mixed up with the pattern itself of the quilt), but it has I think maybe roses or something on it It’s some red/pink flowers which seemed appropriate if anything and so I decided to make that the backing. By that time I had arranged to borrow a quilting frame a small quilting frame from a friend and I kept it set up in our living room for a year while quilted it.
Anna: So it took you about a year to do the quilting part after it was pieced.
Mom: And it was a small quilting frame so it didn’t take up a lot of room. But it sat there in the living room for that time. Oh you could move the whole thing out of the room, I mean it was small enough to move through the door so you could move it out if you had company or something like that, so we did that occasionally but not very often.
Anna: Well that is cool.
The Wedding Quilt
This is a not-quite-verbatim transcription of Mom talking about the Double Wedding Ring quilt.
Anna: Mom, here is the double wedding ring quilt. Can you tell us about that: who made it, what were the circumstances?
Mom: This quilt was made by my grandmother Collins and she made it specifically to give to me. It was probably made in the 30s, yea early 30s. And she ended up making one for me and one for Emmagene. I don’t know what pattern hers was, I forget. (I’ve seen it since.) But she did not make one for all of the grandchildren. Because I had lived with her for a long time and and saw her often I was a special grandchild. She didn’t see her other grandchildren very often. This was in the early 30s and this got made from (well I guess there are some of my clothes in there but not many and) just scraps from here and there. Probably she swapped with other people too because at that time she went to a club meeting and that’s what started it all I think was the other women were making quilts. She was going to that. Well, the home demonstration club was started up then and so I guess she had it finished and quilted and gave it to me about that time. It was very… I felt very loved by the work that went into that.
Anna: So that was in the early 30s so they were living near Alamo, Texas, at the time?
Mom: Yes, they were living in Alamo. My grandparents were living in Alamo at the time. Or out from Alamo. Of course they lived out in the country on a farm.
Anna: So one of the things you mentioned when talking about the quilt that you made, was about not using muslin on the back. Well I notice that on this there is muslin color in the center of the rings but the back is pink. Is there anything unique about that?
Mom: I don’t know. I mean, if so I didn’t know it.
Anna: It would be interesting to see if there are any swatches in here that are also in your quilt since she made some of your squares for your Grandmother’s Flower Garden.
Mom: Yes, It would be. I’d never thought about looking to see. In fact, this just came up to my thought that there might be some of my clothes in it. I don’t know whether there is or not. I’ll have to look it over to tell.
Anna: Well we can check to see if there is any intersection between the two.
Anna: Mom, here is the double wedding ring quilt. Can you tell us about that: who made it, what were the circumstances?
Mom: This quilt was made by my grandmother Collins and she made it specifically to give to me. It was probably made in the 30s, yea early 30s. And she ended up making one for me and one for Emmagene. I don’t know what pattern hers was, I forget. (I’ve seen it since.) But she did not make one for all of the grandchildren. Because I had lived with her for a long time and and saw her often I was a special grandchild. She didn’t see her other grandchildren very often. This was in the early 30s and this got made from (well I guess there are some of my clothes in there but not many and) just scraps from here and there. Probably she swapped with other people too because at that time she went to a club meeting and that’s what started it all I think was the other women were making quilts. She was going to that. Well, the home demonstration club was started up then and so I guess she had it finished and quilted and gave it to me about that time. It was very… I felt very loved by the work that went into that.
Anna: So that was in the early 30s so they were living near Alamo, Texas, at the time?
Mom: Yes, they were living in Alamo. My grandparents were living in Alamo at the time. Or out from Alamo. Of course they lived out in the country on a farm.
Anna: So one of the things you mentioned when talking about the quilt that you made, was about not using muslin on the back. Well I notice that on this there is muslin color in the center of the rings but the back is pink. Is there anything unique about that?
Mom: I don’t know. I mean, if so I didn’t know it.
Anna: It would be interesting to see if there are any swatches in here that are also in your quilt since she made some of your squares for your Grandmother’s Flower Garden.
Mom: Yes, It would be. I’d never thought about looking to see. In fact, this just came up to my thought that there might be some of my clothes in it. I don’t know whether there is or not. I’ll have to look it over to tell.
Anna: Well we can check to see if there is any intersection between the two.
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