You can see where Millie fits in the family tree by clicking here Below is a quick summary:
Lela's father, Alva (Alvie), had six brothers and sisters, including Millie, which would make them Lela's aunts and uncles. Millie was a bit older than Alvie, and their parents were Thomas James and Lovina Williams. Below is their story of growing up with Thomas and Lovina Williams, followed by Millie's life as a wife and mother.
MILLIE'S LIFE AS A CHILD
Thomas James Williams was born February 9, 1849 in Newcastle, Indiana. His wife, Lovina Michel was born in Springfield, Illinois in 1852. They moved to Butler Co. Iowa while they were small. They were married In Butler Co. Iowa in 1870. Their four girls, Rose, Ina, Lela, Millie and one boy, Alva, were born in Iowa. Roland and Guy in Nebraska.
Millie Williams, born April 17, 1881 in Butler Co., Iowa and died in 1974 in Bayard, Morrill Co., Iowa.
I, Millie lived in Butler County, Iowa until I was four years of age. About all I remember of those four years was our last visit with grandfather and grandmother Williams before leaving for Spencer, South Dakota in 1885.
Father and Ross Jamison were two young men who lived on farms near each other in Iowa. To each of them, there was something alluring about the reports coming from "out west."
Father and Mother lived in Iowa until 1885. They decided to make a short move just into the new state of South Dakota and located in Spencer, South Dakota. My father took the stock and machinery through on a freight train and Uncle Williams, Mother and us five children followed on the passenger train. We lived in South Dakota two years then moved to western Nebraska. I remember a lot about those two years, the first few days there were spent with Uncle George Williams and the family until we could get our house.
I went to my first term of school there and I surely loved my teacher (Kate McDonald). I guess it was a good thing I loved her for none of the other children cared for her.
One year after we arrived in South Dakota, Mr. Jamison decided that he would make a westward move but he made a much farther one, coming to Western Nebraska. He located a homestead eight or nine miles northwest of where the town of Bayard was to be started in the spring of 1888. Being well pleased with this area, Mr. Jamison wrote to my father, his old neighbor, telling him there was 160 acres of land near him that was subject to homestead entry.
This news from his friend interested my Father since there was no good land left for homesteading in that part of Dakota and they had not been very prosperous anyway.
After we had been in Spencer, South Dakota about two years, we made preparations to move. On August 21, 1887, we started on this over land trek for Cheyenne County, western Nebraska. On October 8, 1887, we arrived at our destination. My folks located and filed on the land about which Mr. Jamison had written. Just as our two families had lived as neighbors in Iowa, so again we were to live near each other for many years. The 160 acres homestead was eight miles northwest of what is now Bayard, Cheyenne Co., Nebraska. Alliance, Gering, and Bayard all started in 1888.
Cheyenne County was soon divided into five counties: Scottsbluff, Morrill, Banner, Kimball and Cheyenne. Father's homestead was in Scottsbluff County, forty miles from the Wyoming border.
We made this trip to Nebraska in covered wagons, one horse team and one ox team. There was my Father, Mother, Rose, Ina, Lela, Alva and myself. Mother drove the horses and we girls the oxen. We didn't have any lines for the oxen, we just used a whip and talked to them, (Gee and Haw). We also had 18 head of loose cattle which we drove between the wagons. Father did most of the driving of the cattle although we children helped. Father also fixed boxes on the back and sides of the wagons to haul our chickens, ducks and guineas in. We also brought our dog with us.
We only averaged about 20 miles a day as we had to go slow because of the cattle. What a blessing those cattle were during those dry years and all the years were dry until 1892 and 1893. We would camp early each evening, in order to give the horses and cattle time to eat grass, and let the fowl out to exercise and how they would run and jump around. But when it commenced to get dark they were back in their coops.
We brought our clothing, beds and bedding, dishes, a cupboard, and one dresser, and what we could haul with us.
We never traveled on Sunday unless we had to find a camping place where we could get water for the stock. When we arrived at the end of our destination on October 8, 1887. It had taken us over six weeks to cover the entire distance of more than 400 miles. Three or four days before arrival at our destination, when the sky was clear and the mirage just right, my Mother looking far to the westward saw Chimney Rock. She exclaimed, "Oh, that must be a Church Steeple." However, my Father assured her there would be no churches to be seen. Perhaps this incident kindled within her a determination to help build the sod church near our homestead.
Another man had homesteaded this claim and dug a dugout, but he got discouraged and left. Someone had taken the window and door so all that was left was a hole in the ground with a roof on. But we made the dugout and the two covered wagons be our home until Father could plow sod and build a sod house. Mother hung blankets at the door and the window of the dugout.
The immediate task was to build a sod house before winter time. The roof was constructed by nailing boards to the ridge logs and then covering them with a layer of sod. It was necessary to go about six miles south to the lower bottom land to get heavy alkali grass sod. Due to the use of frozen sod and perhaps other adverse conditions, the sides of this house bulged out of shape. However, we moved into the sod house on Thanksgiving Day and we were so thankful and happy to get into a house once again. The sod house walls were cold and we had a dirt floor for a year. Mother kept the floor sprinkled until it was nearly as hard as a board floor.
We lived in the sod house for about three years. The fact that the sides of the house were not straight, worried my Father so he decided to build a log house. The logs came out of the Wild Cat hills and were purchased from the saw mill located southwest of Gering.
My Father, Mother and Alva drove to Sidney, Nebraska, 65 miles away to buy the lumber, doors and windows for the house. It took them three days to make the trip and we four girls, (the oldest 15), stayed at the covered wagons day times and stayed nights with a neighbor.
The problem of water for the family and livestock was no different for us than for any other homesteader. For about a year, water had to be hauled. When this unpleasant task was performed by the men, water could be secured from Anthony Kennedy's well only about two miles away. Here the water had to be drawn with buckets. When we girls hauled the water, it was necessary to go about six miles to the H.C. Maxon place on the bottom land where the well was shallower and there was a pitcher pump. Regardless of where or how water was secured, hauling with team and wagon was a tedious task but had to be done.
The question might be asked why did not my Father put down a well on his own place? Several factors entered into the matter. All wells had to be dug by hand and needed to be walled up with lumber which was available only in Alliance or Sidney. Money to buy the lumber was one thing that stood in the way.
One day when my Father had gone to Alliance to haul back a load of freight for E.M. Stearns, my Mother began 'witching' for water. Just where she secured the proper kind of twig, no one will every know. There was a spot exactly where they wanted the well which gave favorable indications. Regardless of from what direction she would approach this point, the forked twig would turn down. This caused my Mother to be more determined than ever so she started the digging by herself. She had the hole down as far as she could go when my Father returned. He too, was enthused about the project and said, "they would get Ed Hood, who was a neighbor and see what they could do." When the well was finished there was great rejoicing.
While most of the wells in the community were more than on hundred feet deep, ours was only forty. Just sixteen feet had to be cased and best of all we had an exceptionally good well.
With some of the necessities provided for on the homestead, our family turned to that common problem, of how to make a living. To accomplish this task, since farming had not been too lucrative, we turned to our livestock. We had brought 18 head of cattle with us from South Dakota and the small herd was increasing. We began to milk the cows and make butter. But it was a problem on how could we keep the milk and butter in proper condition. The only way that any one knew was to keep our things in freshly drawn water from the well because it was always cool. At first we had to draw water from the well but by this time we had been able to buy a windmill.
A very unique system was provided by erecting a house right by the well. First, the water was piped into a barrel sitting just inside the house. Water for all family use was taken from this barrel. From here the water was piped on into a tank or vat in which there were a number of stone jars containing milk and other products. From this tank, water ran into a lower vat in which a number of low pans were placed containing milk. From the last vat the water was carried outside into a large tank which provided water for the livestock.
All pipes were placed at a proper level so each tank or barrel would stay full but not run over. Fresh, cool water from the well would be flowing through at all times. Rich thick cream was skimmed off of these containers. If we did not have a cream skimmer, a sauce dish was used. To make butter a common sized churn held about four gallons, the lid of which had a hole in the center to allow the churn dasher to move freely up and down. A clean white cloth was tied around the top where the stone lid fitted into the groove of the churn, to avoid splashing of the cream as the dasher was moved up and down by the person doing the churning. The cream must be at the right temperature and at the proper sourness to insure quick churning and good butter. It took quite vigorous use of the dasher to bring about the desired results. When starting the churning, the cream would stick to the dasher handle but a sign of the butter 'about to come' was the clearing of the handle. The small lumps of yellow butter were then removed from the churn with a wooden ladle, into a large butter bowl. Several washings with water were required to remove the butter milk before a right amount of fine salt was added and worked well into the butter until it was smooth and firm.
Various sorts of molds were used in getting the butter ready. Next came the problem of selling the butter. When my Mother was able to sell it at home, she received ten cents per pound but she did make weekly trips to Gering with a cart drawn by a black house we called "Web." This would be a 50 mile round trip. Her regular deliveries were to the Alva Cochran hotel, but occasionally she had other customers. Fifteen cents per pound was received for the butter when it was taken to Gering.
There was another way in which my Mother was able to assist the family financially. She had a loom and did custom carpet weaving. Practically the only kind of carpet or rugs that the pioneer had was made in this way. All old discarded clothing was torn into strips about one inch wide and, of course, whatever length the cloth would allow. These strips were sewed together, often by the children, then wound into balls--the greater variety of color, the prettier. These balls of rags were sent to the weaver who by using cotton warp wove them into carpet. My Mother was known over a wide area, therefore she was kept quite busy with her carpet weaving. She received twelve and one half cents per square yard for doing this work.
My father took care of the stock and outside chores. It was quite a task to provide feed for the cattle during the winter. A little hay was available near the river if one was fortunate enough to be able to rent or own or in some way get control of some of this bottom land.
The cattle also had to be cared for in the summer--often times the grass would be short--sometimes the wind did not blow to pump water. Constant attention was needed. In addition to his home chores, my Father did considerable freighting from Alliance, also made trips to the hills for wood. If conditions became too desperate he would leave things with the family and work away from home.
People saw hard times for a few years. They would plant crops just to see them burn up. No rain to speak of until 1902 and 1903. These two years we had wonderful crops then dry years ahead. The many dry years caused the farmers to finally lose the seed to plant so the good people from East started sending seed, food and clothing out. They built a commissary building north of Minatare so people could go there and get what they needed most.
But Father never asked for anything except seed to plant, as we had our cows we had some butter to sell and had chicken and eggs and our own butter and milk. Once in awhile could butcher a beef or pork so he said others needed it worse than we did. We had a little money coming in because Mother made butter and hauled it to Gering in a lumber wagon nearly twenty miles, even though sometimes she only got ten cents per lb. for it, and six cents per dozen for eggs. As well as money from the job Mother did on weaving carpets for sale, and Father's freighting work.
The nearest neighbor lived a half mile away. Neighbors were few and far between. About all there was for miles around was range cattle, as this was free range country. So there was plenty of range cattle, coyotes, rattlesnakes and cowboys. But in two years things changed as they passed a law to move the range cattle out. No more free range, so the range cattle were moved out and goodbye to the cowboys, which were not bad fellows at all, like a lot of people think.
In 1888 a lot of people moved in. Father and Mother never saw quite as hard times as a lot of our neighbors did. But they saw it plenty hard. Even us girls did house work for people when every we had an opportunity. Regardless of the varied efforts of our family we endured many hardships.
Sometimes in the fall, some of the men folk walked to Colorado, where they irrigated, and picked up potatoes all day for a dollar to help out.
I have seen the day when us girls had just one calico dress to wear to school so would wash and iron it on Saturday to wear to Sunday School, and back to school again the next week. But everyone did the same so wasn't so bad after all. I've put this down so when my children and grandchildren think they are having hard times they can read this and see they don't know what hard times are.
My brother Roland was born January 10, 1888. Couldn't have a doctor as the nearest doctor and dentist as well as the only railroad were 65 miles away at Sidney. We had no automobiles or telephones so if a doctor was needed someone rode the 65 miles on horseback and the doctor came back in a buggy. So the neighbor ladies came to help.
Guy was also born after we came to Nebraska, May 7, 1892. I recall when he was born because while my Mother was still in bed, there was a three day rain and the house leaked all over. We took the oil cloth off the table, putting it over her and the baby to try to keep them dry but even then, the bed got wet. Incidents like this help describe the price which we, as pioneers, willingly paid to own the land and live in our own homes.
An incident happened to a neighbor which probably hastened the building of a church in the community. Mr. and Mrs. Ed Hood who lived just north of us, lost there little baby. There were no churches or cemeteries. Even a minister was not available. The child was to be buried in the yard. At the funeral service they wished to find some one to offer a prayer. No one could, they simply sang a song and buried the little baby. After this was over my Mother said, "such must never happen again--we must have a church so we can be prepared for such an emergency."
That is perhaps why no one did more than our family in building the sod church and school house and in maintaining them in the community.
The first few deaths in the neighborhood buried their loved ones in the home yard as there were no cemeteries. Bayard and Gering started building cemeteries in 1888. Bayard cemetery is where our family is buried. When people got sick in those days it was very different from today. We couldn't go to a hospital or have a nurse for there were none in miles and miles of us.
The neighbors helped each other. Father and Mother were never too tired or busy to help where there was sickness. All of the neighbors would help care for the sick, set up nights and do anything they could for the sick.
I well remember a family moved in our neighborhood about seven miles away. We heard the mother was sick with typhoid fever, there was the father, mother and two little children. So my sister, Ina and I got on our ponies and went and sat up with her all night. We cleaned up the house and the children the next morning. From then on the neighbors changed off setting up nights and doing anything they could do to help. That was good old pioneer days. Father and Mother were wonderful pioneers. I never heard them complain and they always seemed to be happy. They raised seven children.
I remember when my Father and all of us children were sick with small pox. One night Ina was so sick by parents felt they must call a doctor. My Mother could not leave the family so although she was sick, she got Rollie out of bed, put him on a horse and sent him to the nearest neighbor to ask him to go for the doctor. When Rollie returned he was put back to bed and seemed not to have suffered any ill effects from his night ride.
One of the worst drawbacks was the schooling. We only had three months schooling a year but the district south of us had three months at a different time and we went to both schools, making it six months a year and that time was put in studying, not playing football and basketball and what not. Our first teacher, Laura Parker, walked three miles each morning to school and home in the evening. She received $35 a month. Now 77 years later all the little towns have good schools.
Scottsbluff, the best town in miles and only 18 miles from my Father's homestead, has seven grade schools, four high schools, and a two year college. It has seven public parks, a municipal swimming pool, a zoo, YMCA, and the only daily newspaper, the Star Herald. It also has two radio stations: KOLT and KNEB, and a TV station. Transportation is provided by two railroads, the Union Pacific, two and a half miles south of Scottsbluff running through Gering, and the Burlington running through Scottsbluff. There are several trucking and bus lines and air lines. It had the first sugar factory built in Western, Nebraska. There are now seven sugar factories in the valley, many churches, stores, and filling stations. There are the Cooks Packing Plant, two hospitals and several rest homes.
And I would like to say here that we were here thirteen years before Scottsbluff started in 1895. At one time my oldest sister, Rose and her husband, Andrew Williamson, lived in a sod house in what is now 5th and Overland, and farmed the land where Scottsbluff now stands.
I think it was 1890 (some have it recorded as 1901 or 1902) the neighbors all went to work and built a sod church one half mile south of my Father's homestead. It was both church and community room as we had church and Sunday School every Sunday. Then we had all kinds of entertainment, except dancing.
The neighbors relation in the east sent money to help buy the lumber for doors, roof, windows, benches, etc. They had an oyster supper at my Father's house to help raise money for the church. The minister, Rev. Droman, helped make the benches. The roof was lumber covered with dirt.
The building was known for miles around as the Old Soddy. We had literaries, spelling bees, basket suppers, oyster suppers there, as well as school taught there. Besides that neighbors used to give home dances and parties, picnics and all kinds of home gatherings, so anyone that thinks the pioneers lives were all dull and lonely are badly mistaken. We had wonderful times, in fact, some of the happiest days of my life were spent in my side saddle, how I loved my pony.
But, I also have remembrances that weren't so happy. One nice sunny morning in the winter of 1894, my Father, Mother, and little brother Guy left in a lumber wagon for Gering, about twenty miles away. My two sisters older than I left for school six miles away where Ina was teaching and Lela going to school. They left me, a girl of thirteen, and my two brothers, younger, at home. During the day I saw a bad storm coming up. The boys and I got the stock in and fed and fuel in when the blizzard hit.
Oh yes, and I'll say right here what the fuel consisted of. It was wood and cow chips. There were no railroads so you couldn't get coal and you had to ford the North Platte river to get to the hills where you could get wood. At times the water was too high to ford, and in winters too much ice. So a lot of fuel was cow chips.
Now more about the blizzard. It was so bad none of the folks could get home. A bachelor, Tom Allen, a wonderful neighbor, living 12 miles away, knew the folks were gone and couldn't get home. So he came over and offered to stay with us. But I was a bashful girl of thirteen and thought that would never do for him to stay when my folks were gone. He saw by my looks I didn't want him to stay. So he fed the stock some more and told us children not to go outside for anything until the storm was over. The next evening it wasn't quite so bad so another neighbor, Rufus Jamison, came in a wagon and got us children and took us to their place a half mile away.
It was three days before the folks got home. I don't know what we would have done in those early days without our good neighbors.
Another memory of a blizzard was a time when after night, Rollie, Alvie and three of us girls drove to Bayard to attend a program. After starting home, one of those real blizzards came up quickly. We soon discovered that we were lost in the blowing snow, just driving around in a circle out there on the prairie with nothing to guide us. We finally decided to let the horses go which ever way they wished. Animal instinct was wiser than human knowledge, for the horses took us home.
There was a store and post office at Camp Clarke, three miles west of where Bridgeport now stands. It was twenty miles from Father's homestead and the first winter we were here that's where we had to go to get our mail. The neighbors took turns going once a week and getting the neighborhood mail.
We lived close to the North Platte River. You had to cross the bridge to get there and it was a toll bridge. Cost $1.00 to cross, but if they walked over it was twenty-five cents. It was the only bridge between North Platte and Fort Laramie, Wyoming-Fort Laramie was 60 some miles to the west. And now 76 years later, in 1961, there are lots of bridges every few miles. Alliance, Gering, and Bayard began building in 1888 and they got a mail route from Alliance to Gering. Now there are lots of towns. The Burlington railroad came through in 1900.
Father was a county assessor from 1892 until 1896. He also held school offices for many years and was a leading citizen in many ways.
My father sold his homestead before irrigation ditches got there. Now the Tri-state ditch, the largest ditch in this valley crosses the corner of Father's homestead. The Minatare ditch about 8 miles from my Father's homestead, was built in 1898, so people could buy vegetables. And from then on other ditches were built and life ran smoother after that.
A friend of the family had some fond recollections centering around Alva and Rollie Williams. They lived in the same community, attended the same schools, went to the same Sunday School and Church, rode over the same prairie with their saddle horses, played baseball and other games together and even worked together. While they were young lads, Rube Davis and Austin Moomaw took a contract to clean a portion of the Nine Mile Canal. Rollie, Alvie and a friend each drove teams as did my Father, also Rube Davis was the slip holder. Another party who worked on that same crew was James Jessup.
When we first lived here there were three cottonwood trees in the valley, they were south of Minatare - two are still there. Now there are trees everywhere.
In 1894, my Father suffered a severe siege of typhoid fever from which he never fully recovered. At about the turn of the century, my Mother's health began to fail. In the late summer of 1902, it was decided to make an overland trip to Hot Springs, South Dakota, in the hope of better health. The wife of Will Randall was also in ill health. Mr. Randall told my Father that if he would take the two women, he would furnish the team and wagon and pay the expenses. It took more than a month to make the trip. Much time was spent at the Hot Springs. We all rode in the big wagon and camped out both going and returning which was hard on my Mother. The who effort proved to be a disappointment as it did not bring the desired relief to her. My Father seemed somewhat improved but my Mother grew gradually worse.
My mother died October 8, 1902, 15 years to the day when we settled on the homestead. She had stomach trouble. The frontier community was shocked and saddened beyond measure at her passing. The account of the funeral was expressive of the feelings of all --"Mrs. Williams was known to every old settler within many miles of her home and was loved and honored for her kind womanly ways and amicable character. She was one of God's noble women. Her friends were many and in her death the whole community mourns." The account further states, "as the sun was sinking to rest in the west, at the close of a beautiful day, all that was mortal of the wife, mother and noble woman was placed in the grave while the choir sang the beautiful words of the song "Sweetly Resting."
At the time of Mother's death the girls were all married but me. I kept house for father and the boys until I married in 1903. My Father found it very difficult to carry on alone. Finally he sold all of his personal property at a public sale, with Sam Powell as auctioneer. Just a little later he had an opportunity to sell his homestead to the Tri-State Land Company for $5.00 per acre.
In the hope of bettering their condition, my Father and the boys moved to Tennessee. While my Father and my bothers were living there, Alva found a girl to his liking so they were married. But there was no work to be found so Alva decided he would come back to Nebraska. First he worked on the Tri- State Canal for $35.00 per month. Next he was transferred to mixing cement by hand for $2.25 per ten hour day. Lastly, Rube Davis, his brother in law, offered him $35.00 per month, which was above farm wages, but he had a pair of colts he wanted broken to work. Alva had become real good at breaking horses to work or ride. That same fall Rube Davis and my Father exchanged work in haying. Alva and I spent many days together mowing and stacking hay.
I will never forget how desperately lonesome Alva became and how badly he wanted to go back to Tennessee, but he said "he had to stay to earn the money." When haying was finished, Alva was returning home on the train with his summer's earnings. He recently said "I guess I slept too sound as some one lifted my purse out of my pocket containing $50.00. Quite a stake in those times." He went back to his wife in Tennessee almost empty handed after his four months of summer work. Just another example of hardship endured by pioneers.
While in Tennessee, Rollie and Guy attended Barber School, learning that trade. Upon returning to Nebraska, Rollie operated a barber shop in Bayard for more than a year. Perhaps because of his boyhood experiences on the range he soon turned his attention to livestock.
After about three years, they all came back from Tennessee, and Father made his home with Ina or me till he died. My Father died April 23, 1925, of asthma. Twenty-two years after the death of his wife, my Mother, he passed away. (Some records read death on June 11, 1924). Three statements made at the time of his death, will help us to remember and evaluate the life of my Father. "He was a lover of the Church...until his health failed, he was a faithful attendant"...He was a real pioneer, having been a resident since 1887." "Through his children he was head of numerous and highly esteemed families."
In 1929 Rollie left Nebraska, going to Wyoming where range land was more plentiful, engaging extensively in cattle and sheep. He was quite successful with both. He operated a sale barn for a few years. He then moved to Idaho and purchased and cared for a commercial orchard, packing and selling his own products.
Guy was the youngest child of the family. Old timers remember him as a small, wiry lad riding his saddle horse "Cub," when one could scarcely see him in the saddle. He attended school and Sunday School and grew to manhood in the community as did other youth. He married Miss Winnie Hood, the daughter of a pioneer neighbor of the Williams family.
Guy and his wife afford a sad story in that fatal year of 1918. His wife contracted tuberculosis, and passed away June 9, 1918. Guy fell victim to the "flu" and passed away on November 20th of that same year. They left two small children, Lovina, six, and T.J. eighteen months old. Ina and Harvey Howard, out of gracious love, provided a home for the orphan children.
I recall many memories of our pioneering days. Right here I want to say I have lived in a dugout, was married in a sod house, and lived in a sod house for several years after I was married. A sod is warm in the winter and cool in summer.
By the time I married we had irrigation and our farm could be irrigated. In fact, one ditch (the nine mile) ran right through our farm and how we did enjoy having water to save our crops. We lived on this farm until Rube died 34 years later. I spent two years in town to put the children in school.
MILLIE'S LIFE AS AN ADULT
Millie Williams, born April 17, 1881 i Butler Co., Iowa and died in 1974 in Bayard, Morrill Co., Iowa--married Ruben Davis on February 4, 1903.
Ruben Henry Davis was born April 7, 1876 and died November 17, 1936.
When Mrs. Hults married J.H. Davis and moved to the state of Georgia, she abandoned her deceased husband's homestead northwest of Bayard. This gave Rube Davis the opportunity to make a filing on this land.
Prior to this time, Mrs. Hults had given Austin Moomaw a five year lease on the place.
Upon the expiration of the Moomaw lease, Rube Davis moved to his homestead in 1901. Not having sufficient equipment of his own, he farmed the place in partnership with Harvey Harward and Lee A. Christina. They engaged in the two things which had become quite profitable under irrigation, viz, the production of vegetables and the raising of hay. The next year, Rube having purchased a team of horses, which he called Ed and Bill, farmed the place alone with the exception of exchanging work with the Moomaws during the haying season.
Another room was added to the sod house--this then became our home--Miss Millie Williams and Ruben Davis.
We had seven children. Avis, Avin, Ina, Thomas, Ward, Mable and Norman.
When we were married in 1903, we moved to my husbands homestead and farm, located seven miles from Father's homestead. We made our living farming, truck gardening and milking cows.
For the next 11 years, we lived in this sod house and upon the same place for 33 years--until the death of Rube in 1936.
Old times especially remember Rube for his efficient help at the headgate of the Nine Mile Canal. Each summer he was called upon to assist when they cleaned sand from the head of the ditch. He was an extra good scraper holder and also had a special knack at laying sod in the channels forming a dam to turn the water into the canal.
We were happy, hard working people until in August 1916 when our baby, Norman Victor died of cholera. That was a hard blow to all of us. But like everyone else that have gone through the same kind of sorrow we had to go on as best we could. This was to be a hard time in lots of ways. In the same week our best horse got a foot nearly cut off in a barb wire fence and in about eight days we lost 65 head of fat hogs just ready for market.
In 1919, the flu went through our family. We all had it except Rube and Avis. They took Avin and me to the hospital. Avin had his appendix out and my heart was bad. We were in the hospital 13 days. After this our lives went on like most of farmers.
In 1904 Rube and I went to St. Louis to the World's Fair. We made a trip to Iowa in 1920 to visit my sister Rose. In 1932, Rube, Mable, Avin, Mildred and their two boys made a trip to Iowa. In 1934, Rube, Tom and I made a trip to Georgia and Florida to visit Rubes relations.
In 1932, Rube suffered his first stroke and it was followed every fall with another stroke until he passed away November 27, 1936. He had his fatal stroke on Sunday and died Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving.
We had taken Rube to Hot Springs, South Dakota every summer for four years for treatment before he passed away. At the time of his death three children were still at home, Tom, Ward and Mabel. The others were married, but lived not over three miles from home.
After Rube's death, I rented the farm for one year and I moved into my house in McGrew. Mabel finished her one and a half years of high school and the boys worked out. Then Ward married and he farmed the home place one year. The next year Tom and I moved in one part of the house and Wards in the other and the two boys farmed. After four years of farming, the boys decided they didn't want to farm so I moved back to McGrew and Avis and Bake farmed it two years. Tom and I moved to Malone, Washington. Then Avis and family moved to Cheyenne, Wyoming.
I rented the farm to Merle Pollatt and he farmed it for 12 years. Mr. Hagerman farmed one year. In 1957 I sold the farm to Dale Zemaneck.
Tom and I lived in Washington two years. Ward and family loved there one year. Tom was called into the service in 1942, World War II, so we all came back to Nebraska. But I kept my house in McGrew rented, and I rented in other towns near my children until 1946 when I moved back into my home in McGrew. There I have lived alone ever since. That's 18 years. I have done quite a lot of traveling in the past twenty-four years. Traveled i 24 states and Canada. Tom and I have been across the US from southeast to northwest (Florida) to Washington by automobile.
My grandson Dallas Davis asked me to write of some of the hard times I have experienced. The first nine years we were married we were hailed out five times. These things I will tell about ow weren't really hard times, then, only what you grandkids would call hard times.
When I was first married I cooked on a little wood cook stove and in the summer that stove surely did heat up the house. We had to pump water by hand and carry it to the house. On wash day we would heat the water on the stove and wash on a wash board. On ironing day we would head the flat irons ont he stove. We just had coal-oil (kerosene) lamps for light. We milked by hand. We put the milk in pans until the cream raised to the top and then skimmed it off to churn it in either a dark churn or a barrel churn turned by hand and would stamp the butter in one pound stamps. We kept it in a north window or cellar to keep it from melting.
My children live close enough so they can visit me quite often. Tom is the farthest away at Gillette, Wyoming, but can drive up there in five hours. Avis lives in Cheyenne, WY about 120 miles. Avin and Ina live in Sidney 65 miles, Ward lives in Bridgeport, 18 miles and Mabel in Alliance, 50 miles.
I have six living children, 20 grandchildren, 28 greatgrandchildren. All of them come home for my birthday when they can. I have six in-laws and they are just as good to me as my own children.
I still love to travel and the children take me so many places. I belong to a pioneer birthday club. One can't join it unless they have lived here at least fifty years ago, we have over 100 members. I still belong to the Pleasant Hour Club that organized at my home 55 years ago; at this writing, I am the only one living that was at the first meeting. So by the time I go to both of them and to church and visit a lot and have a lot of company and do fancy work I never have time to get lonesome. My greatest delight is in recounting and living anew the pioneer days of my earlier years as a child, and my own family home life.
I joined the Methodist Church at age of 14. I still have two brothers living, Alva in Shelton, Washington and Roland in Emmett, Idaho.
At the time of this copy, 1966, Millie Davis is now 85 and still living alone in her home in McGrew. Her hobbies are letter writing, and visiting of relatives and old neighbors near and far. This finds her oldest son, Avin, living in Alabama. The others are still close by with grandchildren beginning to move to other parts of the country. A birthday dinner in her honor was started in 1949 of 50. She celebrated her 80th with an open house in McGrew. This is an annual affair with her children and grandchildren, and they go as often as they can.
Millie and Rube's six children as considered substantial citizens. Mrs. Avis Baker of Cheyenne, WY; Ina Fae Johnson, Sidney; Mabel Koreel, Alliance; Avin of Sidney; Ward of Bridgeport; and Thomas of California.
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