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William M. Shannon |
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| Shannon, William M.
Field Worker: John F. Daugherty Date: December 11, 1937 My parents were Jeff Shannon and Annie Smith Shannon, both born in Tennessee. Father was a farmer. He served in the Civil War and died at the end of the war on his road home. There were seven children in our family. I was born in Tennessee, March 29, 1861. At the age of sixteen, I suddenly got a desire to work on a ranch and thought, "Why not go to the Indian Territory?" This is what I did. I had a fine saddle pony which I called Felix. Together we made the trip from Texas in 1877. I swam Red River on Felix and stopped at the Eastman Hainey Ranch on Big Glasses Creek, near Tishomingo. I worked here until branding time was over in the Spring. I had located the wild Indian tribes and decided that I wanted to see something of their mode of living. The practical way to do this, I thought, was to join the army and live at a fort which was near an Indian reservation. I decided to go to Fort Reno. My chum, Bill Quinn, went with me. We rode to Sulphur, following the old stage line through Pauls Valley. Here we spent our first night. There was only a stage stand and one store there at this time. We started north the next morning toward the present site of Oklahoma City. This was only a prairie dog town. We camped here one night and went west toward Fort Reno the next day. The fort was in a beautiful location, on a hill, overlooking the Cheyenne reservation, which was covered with the tepees of the Indians. This was the life I was seeking but they all gave me the horselaugh. I was too young. They would have let Bill join the army but he didn't want to become a part of the army unless I could. We stayed at the fort three days. The desire to be in the army became stronger, as I noticed the life at the fort for those three days, and when we left there we started for Fort Washita, hoping that perhaps they would take us. We had started with a lunch, but after that was eaten we became very hungry. There were no houses and no places to get water to drink. Toward the end of the first day we found a swag near a dry creek. We crawled off our horses, hoping to find a drink. There was no water in sight, but there was mud. We dug with our hands into the mud. We were desperate by this time. To our delight we found a small amount of water in the holes we dug. But how were we to drink? We had nothing to dip the water up with and we couldn't get our heads into the small holes, so we made straws out or coarse grass and sucked the water through these. This was not enough water to quench our thirst but it revived us until we could find more water which was not many miles farther away. We crossed a creek and there was a hole of stagnant water there, about the size of a washtub. We jumped from our horses and drank freely of this ill-smelling water, then we watered our horses and started on our journey. It was beginning to get dark and three large Indians stepped from the tall grass into our path. We drove past them but kept an eagle eye on them. Not far from this we drove onto a camp. Bill said, "We'll just have to hide here until daylight." We lay flat in the grass, holding our horses by their reins all night and watched the movements of those Wichita Indians. They had stolen away from the fort in a effort to escape and live as they wished, to themselves. The next morning we quietly left the camp and drove into Fort Washita about noon, ravenous for food and water. These we found and started to headquarters to enlist. We met the same fate as at the other fort. I was too young. After resting for a day or so we started back to the ranch. By this time we had spent all of our money, which was not very plentiful to begin with. Food was high at the commissaries. We decided that we would go back where we could get plenty of beef, black coffee and biscuits. We came to Fort Sill and got onto the Fort Sill and Caddo road. At least there were streams now, where we could get a drink, but our supplies of food and money were gone. About noon of the third day we found a caravan of freight wagons which had stopped for dinner. Here was a place to eat. We rode up, got off our horses and joined the freighters in what was a real feast for two hungry lads like us. There was twenty one wagons in the caravan, with seven yoke of oxen pulling each wagon. Just as we had finished eating and were preparing to take our departure, the captain, headman, or boss, came crawling out of a wagon. He was the roughest looking man I had ever seen. I was almost afraid of him. He asked us where we were going. Bill said, " I don't know that that's anything to you." He said, "Well, I guess it isn't, but I was wondering if you could drive steers." Bill said, "I can drive them on grass, but not under the sticks." Here was a chance for a different sort of experience. I told the boss that I could drive oxen. I never had, but I was eager to try something different. He showed me the wagon I was to drive and I bade Bill goodbye. Bill tried to persuade me to return to the ranch with him, but I needed some money and here was a chance to make some and have a new experience too. So I sent Felix to the ranch with Bill and told Bill that I'd see him in a month or so. This caravan was from Hell Roaring Creek and was going to Pauls Valley to load corn, which was to be hauled to Fort Reno. There was a chuck wagon and two sleeping wagons. At least I would get some food and have a place to sleep. We were on the road one month and ten days. We received our pay for the trip when we got back to Pauls Valley. This store at Pauls Valley was operated by Miller and Green. It was a licensed trading post and the freighters received their pay from the Government through his store. Vouchers were given us at the fort and we collected the money when we returned to the trading post. I received $45.00 a month and my board, which consisted of navy beans, fat thick salt pork, black coffee and biscuits made of creek water. When we got back to Pauls Valley, I was ready to go back to the ranch. I had not had a hair cut for months and my hair hung almost to my shoulders and on this freighting Trip I had gotten full of lice, both on my head and body. I drove my wagon to Hell Roaring Creek, and went on to Denison, Texas, walking most of the way. There I purchased a new supply of clothes, went to a barber shop, told him of my condition. He cut my hair and gave me a treatment to kill the lice. Then I had a bath and put on my new clothes, burning the ones I wore on the trip. I was now ready to return to the ranch. Bill and Felix were both glad to see me and I was glad to be there again. One day I was at Governor Harris' store at Old Mill Creek, when the stage left. There were no passengers on this trip. Later in the day the horses and stage returned with the driver murdered and lying inside the stage. It seemed that somebody had attached him between Mill Creek and the present site of Sulphur. The horses turned and came back to the stage stand, with the stage. Nobody ever found out the motive of the murder unless it was to rob the stage, but the mail sacks had not been disturbed. It was not uncommon to find the body of a man lying beside the trail, perhaps half-eaten by wolves. But such things were not a topic for conversation in those days. The least one said, the better for him. If you were riding along and saw a man riding in front of you and he waved at you to go away, you had better go, for that sign meant that he wasn't wanting to see you, and if you insisted on riding toward him, you might be counted among those lying lifeless along the trail. Guns were law in those days and many had no regard for human life. Only United States Marshals could arrest a white man. The Indian police were not allowed to do that. Those were perilous times for officers. I remember when Sam Paul, a full-blood Chickasaw, was arrested at the Miller and Green trading post in Pauls Valley. I happened to be in the store at the time. United States Marshal Mershon was sitting by the fire when Sam came into purchase a pair of gloves. Sam had killed two innocent little boys near Whitebead because they had fed some horse thieves. These children were at home alone when the horse thieves came and compelled them to get them something to eat. This was Pat Sturdivant and his gang. Sam and a posse were looking for the Sturdivant gang and when the boys told them about feeding Pat and his gang, Sam was furious and killed the boys. He later found Pat and killed him, and his gang. But that didn't make the murder of the boys right and the United States Government was searching for Sam. Sam was trying on some gloves when Mershon walked back and put his guns in Sam's side, with the order to put his hands up. Sam argued with him for some time but when he saw it was doing no good, he put his hands in the air and Mershon removed Sam's gun. Sam was very angry and told Mershon that if he got out of this he'd surely kill him. Sam was tried and convicted, but he appealed and received a new trial. This time he was convicted and he got a third trial, after which he was freed. Mershon went to Fort Smith and turned over his papers and so far as I know, he never served as an officer again. I was married to Annie White on Red River, in 1884. We did not have any license. The minister who married us recorded our wedding. Transcribed by Brenda Choate and Dennis Muncrief, May 2001.
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