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Field Worker, John F.
Daugherty
August 14, 1937
#8235
Address: Sulphur, OK
Born: October 4, 1877
Place of Birth: Whitebead, Indian Territory
Father: Ben F. Harris, born in Tennessee. Son of Governor Cyrus Harris of
the Chickasaws
Mother: Viona Wilson, born in Iowa
My father was Judge Ben F. Harris, born in Mill Hill Tennessee,
January 10, 1851, He was the oldest son of Governor Cyrus Harris of
the Chickasaw Nation. He was the Supreme Judge of the Chickasaw
Nation when he died.
Mother was Viona Wilson, born December 25, 1863, in Iowa. I
was born at Whitebead, Pontotoc (Pickens?) County, Indian Territory, in
the Chickasaw Nation, west of Pauls Valley in a log house with a dirt
floor. While I was a small child I moved with my parents to a place
near Drake, south of Sulphur, and have lived here since.
The first school I attended was a picket log building with puncheon seats.
These seats were too high for the smaller children who all had ridges on
the backs of their legs from sitting on these logs and letting their feet
dangle in the space below the seat. We kept our books in a box beneath the
seat. Each morning Mother started us off with a quart of buttermilk
and a pail which contained our lunch, consisting of corn bread with butter
and sorghum molasses on it.
We paid tuition of $1.00 per month and the school was in session as
long as fifteen pupils attended but when the attendance was less than that
the school closed until the following year. As long as the teacher
got $15.00 a month he kept the school in session. The teacher
boarded with his patrons and each night he stayed at a different ; his
board cost him nothing. His desk was made of four poles driven into
the ground with a board fastened to the top of them. He kept his
switches lying across two wooden pegs driven in a log at the front of the
room.
One day I ran away from school and the next morning Mother took me back,
carrying three switches with her. When she got me into the school
building she gave me a whipping with one of the switches, had the
teacher whip me with another and the third switch she left with the
teacher to whip me with the next time I ran off. He did not get to
use
the third switch.
The Chickasaw capital was originally just about a mile northwest of my
place which is about six miles south of Sulphur. This was old
Tishomingo but it was not centrally located so they moved the capital to
new Tishomingo where it was more easily reached by people from the
other three counties in the Chickasaw Nation.
Father always went to the capital at night. Those were troublesome
and perilous times for politicians. One side was constantly trying
to get rid of the leaders on the opposing side. We never knew when
Father left but that he would be brought shot. He tired to
travel on different routes to Tishomingo. Mother always set a
lighted lamp in the window at night when she expected Father to return.
This was a sign of welcome and joy at his coming.
In those days a horse stood in the lot all the time in case of
emergency and went here was sickness or fear in the neighborhood this
horse had a saddle on just ready to go. When a neighbor was in need
of help, he walked into his yard and shot a gun three times in rapid
succession. Another neighbor would answer with three shots.
The first neighbor would shoot twice, the second neighbor answered with
two shots. Then a shot from each rang into the night and it was not
long before the neighbors would gather at the of the man in trouble
to help in any way they could. If one were out of meat or needed
food of any kind and they let it be known, it was not many days until
there was a good supply brought to them. Everybody was ready and
eager to help another in time of want or despair.
Father and Mother used to make coffins out of walnut. Whenever
Father found a straight walnut tree, he cut it, had it sawed into lumber
and kept it in the loft of his house ready for use when there was a death
in the neighborhood. He never received pay for this service.
"Haste letters" were carried in relays. One day a man
brought one to our house from Texas. It was to be delivered north of
Guthrie. Father carried it to Guthrie and another man took it to its
destination. The ponies which they rode when carrying these letters
were driven in a gallop from one post to the other, so it was necessary to
change ponies.
Father built a log shed and did not use a nail. He cut and hewed his
logs and at night made pegs of hickory wood. These pegs were
carefully whittled with a knife and rolled up in flannel cloths and laid
in hot ashes to season until morning. Father did not lay a log until
everything was in readiness. Then the neighbors came in for the day
and the barn was built. The clapboards were put on the roof with
pegs also.
It was customary in those days for bronco riders to break a horse to ride
for $1.00 per year. Father had an outlaw pony that was three years
old and nobody could ride him. One day a cowboy from Texas came
along and said he would break him. When he got on the pony's back
the pony started bucking and rearing. He pitched into the house,
around the table and into the yard again. The pots and dishes flew
in every direction. The boy stayed on him till the pony exhausted
himself and fell. That was great sport.
Father had three greyhounds which he tied to his saddle when he started
hunting. He turned only one loose at a time to chase deer, wolves or
whatever he wanted. I have seen him catch wild turkeys many a time.
He called the turkeys to him with a quill which made a noise like a
turkey, as he stood on a hill. Then he would frighten them and cause
them to fly. He chased the one he selected on his horse and when the
turkey came to the ground he roped it and struck it several times with the
rope. The turkey would allow him to walk up and catch it.
Father never shot turkeys; he preferred to catch them and kill them later.
When we branded our cattle in the spring there was usually a calf which
had quit running with its mother and nobody knew to whom it belonged.
The same was true of horses. These calves were called
mavericks and the colts were called stray dogs. It was great fun to
contest for these animals whom nobody could claim. Numbers were made
on the ground and a quilt was spread over them. Each man drew or
chose a number. They had previously decided which number should have
the stray animal. The quilt was removed and the man standing near the
lucky number got the animal. Sometimes the men would run horse races
to a specified line and the first one there got the stray.
One day Father and United States Marshal Heck Thomas captured nine
horse rustlers in a dugout near our . They had a girl
about sixteen years of age with them and she stayed with us for several
days until her parents in Texas were notified and came for her. One
of the rustlers was her cousin and they had forced her to travel with them
to keep people from being suspicious of them.
One of the saddest experiences of my childhood was seeing a beautiful pony
killed and buried with a dead Indian. They dug the Indian's grave,
then dug another in the same grave for the pony. They let him down
into the grave. They buried the saddle, bridle and blanket
with him and two guns belonging to the dead Indian.
When they began putting fences around the farms they would not put a fence
within a mile of each other, leaving range for the cattle between fences.
If a man decided he wanted to cut a meadow for he staked it and it was
left alone.
The Indians would never shoot a man in the back. If they had a
grievance against a neighbor they would fight it out face to face.
The Indian Territory belonged to the Indians and each Indian was allowed a
claim on which he could live and make improvements but he could not sell
his claim for they all belonged to the tribe. However, if another
Indian wanted to live on a claim which was in possession of an Indian he
could trade ponies to this Indian for the right to live on this claim.
At first theirs claims were a mile apart but as the Indian population
increased they made them a half mile apart and finally a quarter of a
mile.
When we went away for the day Mother always left food prepared for anyone
who might come and want something to eat. Many times upon our return
we would find the table set and a part or all of the food devoured.
In those days people expected visitors to eat with them if one of more
came to their houses.
One day some travelers from Texas camped near our place. It was
winter time and Mother was in the garden getting some turnips from her
turnip pile. Some of them had been frozen and Mrs. Johnson had
come to our house for water. She picked up one of those frozen
turnips and ate it. That night she died and the neighbors got
together and decided where she was to be buried. That was the
beginning
of the Drake Cemetery. (Photos of
Cyrus Harris grave are in Drake cemetery registry.) Father, being the judge, married many couples but he did not receive any
fees for this service.
One night while Father was gone some drunk Indians rode up to our house.
Mother was afraid of them. She hid my sister and me under the bed and
crawled under it with my baby sister in her arms. She was afraid the
baby would cry and she stuffed the corner of a quilt in her mouth to keep
her quiet. The Indians came in, ate all the food they could find, shot
into the fireplace several times, scattering ashes all over the floor and
left. When they were gone we crawled out from under the bed and my
baby sister was almost smothered to death. I ran for water and she
was soon recovered. When Father was he always sent the Indians
happily on their way but Mother usually ran to a grove
back of the house and hid until they left.
I married Mittie Mullins under the Chickasaw law March 19, 1900,
paying $50.00 for my license. We have two girls.
Transcribed by Brenda Choate & Dennis Muncrief, November, 2000.
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