Day: June 30, 2017

CHAPTER 3

      It was late in the fall of the year when we finally got settled in Boise. Dad immediately went to work hauling wood. Us kids didn’t start school for a few days after we arrived. This gave me an opportunity to look the neighborhood over. Across the street and down a block, lived Aunt Mamie, Dad’s sister. The number was 410 South Third. So we weren’t alone. She had three daughters and two boys. She worked for the governor. Hawley was his name. She did cooking and housework. Quite a gal Aunt Mamie was.

      That first day out, I made a great discovery. We were about only three blocks from the beautiful Julia Davis Park. Winding through the park was a part of the Boise River. The water was clear and cool. I took off my shoes and wading. Then to my amazement, darting out from behind most every rock, was a beautiful trout. I could hardly believe my eyes. Never before had I seen anything like this! I put on my shoes and ran home. I found a shovel, went out in the back yard and began to dig for worms.

      They were plentiful and in a short time, I had a can full of night crawlers. I found some fish line and some hooks. My pocket knife was good and sharp. I headed to the park. I had no pole but there was plenty of willows growing along the creek bank. I pulled out my knife and went to work. My old Granddad had taught me well. The first hook that I tossed into the water was hit by a big one! I drug him in and run a branch of a forked willow through the gill and out the mouth. I laid him down in the water and put on a fresh worm. Time was wasting!

      A crowd began to gather around. They seemed to get a kick out of watching me catch fish after fish. I wondered why they didn’t join me. It wasn’t long until I found out why. A great, big guy wearing a badge walked up to me and grabbed the pole out of my hand. “Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” he yelled. I was startled, to say the least. “Just fishing…” I told him. He pulled the string of fish out of the water and looked them over. “Too far gone to put back.” he muttered. He turned to me. “Don’t you know that it’s against the law to fish in here?” I shook my head. “I don’t see any signs.” The guy slowly shook his head. “I didn’t think we needed any. Are you new around here?” He asked. “Yes.” I told him. “We just moved over here from the ranch below Emmett.” As I think back, this guy must of been a kid once himself. He handed me the string of fish. “Young man.” he said. “Take these and get the hell out of here. And don’t you let me catch you fishing in here again.” Anyhow, that evening, we had fish for supper.

      I guess we were country hicks alright but we caught on fast. We got started in school and I got myself a job selling newspapers. The Evening Capitol News was the name of the paper. It come out after school was let out. All us newsboys would line up in front of the window and buy any amount you wished. You got two for a nickel and sold them for five cents a piece.

      At first, I didn’t do very well. All the good corners were taken up. In front of every hotel was a newsboy. I got quite discouraged. One evening, I asked the fellow that sold us the papers.

“How does a person go about getting a good spot in this town? They seem to be all taken up.” The guy grinned at me. “Find a spot you want and move on. You might have to whip a couple of kids.” I thought this over. I could hold my own with most any kid over in the old Mountain View school house in Emmett Valley. I got a few black eyes and a bloody nose, but in a short time I was holding down the best corner in the city. The one in front of the IDANHA hotel.

      There was headlines on the paper telling the latest news of the war. I would stand there

and yell until I was sold out. I didn’t get rich on this job, but it sure kept me in spending money. At the same time, I was really learning to use my fists.

      One evening, after I had sold my papers, I come home sick. And I mean I was really sick. I was burning up with fever and black spots were dancing in front of my eyes. Mother told me to go to bed. Then she took my temperature. It was 104 and going up. When Dad come home, he looked me over and decided that I would be alright. A little thing like one of his kids getting sick didn’t bother him much.

      I put in one hell of a night. Little, red spiders were crawling everywhere. They were coming out of the walls… I yelled and screamed. Somehow I made it through the night. Mother left the light on and took my temperature every hour or so. Then she would shake her head and go for the ice box. Chop up some ice and put it on my forehead. When morning finally come, Dad and Mother held a conference. I remember him saying. “You had better call a doctor.” We didn’t have a phone but Aunt Mamie did. Mother took off on the run.

      About the only place that Mother ever went, was to church. There, she had met a young doctor. She called him. Also, she called the Bishop and told him to send over a couple of the Elders. Then she come back home. Now I know my darling mother meant well, and she did what she thought was best. Soon she come running home and told me. “You are going to be just fine now. The doctor will soon be here.” Then the doctor come walking in. He didn’t have a black bag. Just himself. He was a young man just out of school and just starting up in business. Not an M.D. But one of those bone poppers and neck twisters. Not much for credentials, but he was a good Mormon.

      I will say one thing for the guy, he wasn’t stupid. After taking my temperature, he popped all my vertebras. Then twisted my neck and gave me a good rub down. Then he turned to Mother and said; “This boy is coming down with the Measles. A new kind that has been brought over from Germany. They are very dangerous.” Then he gave her a bunch of directions. “Keep this room dark. Don’t turn on the light. Pull down all the window blinds, the light can cause permanent damage to his eyes.” And there was more. “If we can just get him to break out, the big danger will be over.” The doctor left and the Elders come. They promised me that I would live. And of course I did. For years, my eyes were weak, but I did survive. In a couple of weeks, I was back on my corner selling my newspapers.

      Then one evening, I broke all my previous records. The big four inch headlines read…

GERMAN GOVERNMENT OVERTHROWN! Everyone went crazy. A big parade come marching down the street. Everyone joined in. The Governor stood up on the balcony of the hotel and dumped sacks of flour and sugar on the screaming crowd below. For the last couple of years, these items had been rationed. No longer would they be. The big war was over.

      Shortly after this, Dad come home one evening and there was a big smile on his face. He had been seeing a lot of Mister Feldman lately. The man that owned the fruit ranch in Emmett Valley. Feldman also owned a pawn shop and loan office here in Boise. Things hadn’t been going so good at the ranch. The guy that he had hired to take care of the place, was drunk all the time. His last name was Ray. Vanilla Ray, the neighbors called him. Back in those days of prohibition, there were many sources of obtaining alcohol. One of the easiest was the Watkins and the Raleigh man. Peddlers that called on most everyone about twice a month. Two of their biggest selling items was lemon and vanilla extract. They contained about eighty percent pure alcohol.

      Feldman wanted Dad to move back on the ranch. Here, there would be work for all of us. That time Dad really used his head. We would move back alright, but under only certain conditions. Feldman must sell him half interest in the ranch. Finally they come to an agreement. Feldman would sell him half interest. Every month Dad would draw a salary of seventy five dollars a month. At the end of each year, he would receive a lump sum of five hundred dollars. This would be a bonus for the work that us kids would do. They agreed on a total price. Half of the profit each year would go as payment for Dad’s share. There was no way that we could lose. We would keep the truck. It would be needed at the ranch. This would be the only down payment.

      Now that the war was over, real estate was booming. In a short time, Dad sold the house in Boise and we were on our way back to the ranch. And I am sure that we were all in favor of this move and would be glad to be on our way back to where we called home.

      As I write this story, I think of the many things that I could tell about. But it would take a lot of time and paper to put it all down. So if I happen to miss something that you think I should of mentioned, please forgive me.

CHAPTER 2

      In 1914, World War I began. I guess lots of the men were joining the army. There were to jobs to be had. Dad and Mother moved us all over into the Emmett Valley. Dad went to work for Smith and Feldman. A couple of men that had just planted a lot of fruit orchards in the sandy slopes of the south side. For two years we stayed at what is now known as, The Earp Place.

      We were only about ten miles out of Emmett. Grandpa Dewey had bought himself a car. A two seated Flanders. About once a week, he and Grandma would come driving down with big, long, bamboo fish poles strapped to the side of the car. He also had a big sign for catching the fish that wouldn’t bite. How I loved those wonderful people. There wasn’t a fishing hole in the country that we didn’t try.

      As the years passed, Mother gave birth to more children: Ray, Dell, Jennie and Bob.

      Smith and Feldman, the owners of the orchards couldn’t get along and split up. They divided the orchards. Feldman, a rich Jew from Boise, built a new house up close to the hill. We moved in and Dad went to work for him.

      Dad had bought himself a new model T Ford. So had everyone else around the valley.

      I was now going to school at the one room school house, Mountain View. It had one teacher who taught all eight grades. There were about twenty pupils in all.

      Dad wasn’t happy just working for wages there on the ranch. He decided to go into something different. He traded the model T in on a new Maxwell truck. It was a one toner and had all hard rubber tires. One day, he and Mother took off for Boise. When they come back, they had great news. Dad had got a job with the Boise, Payette Lumber Co. delivering firewood. He would get paid a dollar a load.

      They had also bought a house. It was close to the mill at 307 South Third. We would move over right away. It took several trips with the truck to get us moved over. We even took along a cow. After her, there was one more load. Cecil and me were still at the ranch house gathering up the last remaining things. Such as; the chickens and the rabbits. Mother had left the house in tip-top condition. The floors all scrubbed and the windows washed. So that whoever moved in would have nothing to complain about.

      We had a lot of tame rabbits of may different colors. Some of them were in pens but most of them run loose. Living wherever they could find shelter. Catching them was going to be a problem. Then Cecil came up with a bright idea. We would leave the barn door open and put a lot of feed inside. While they were eating, we would close the door. Then they would be easily caught. As far as the chickens were concerned, when they went to roost, they would be easily captured.

      Everything went along great. We caught all the rabbits and put them in crates. Likewise,

the chickens. We had nailed slats on the tops of old picking boxes to make enough crates for everything. We crammed them in and waited. Early the next morning the phone rang. It was Dad. He had called to tell us that something had come up and he wouldn’t be over for a couple of days. We told him that there was still plenty to eat here and not to worry.

      The next morning, we looked at the chickens and rabbits jammed tight in those boxes. It would be impossible for them to eat and drink. We must do something about this we decided. There seemed to be only one sensible answer. Turn the chickens loose in the living room and the rabbits in the remaining ones. We could throw in a bale of hay for the rabbits and open a sack of wheat for the chickens. Leave plenty of water and everything should be lovely. Penned up in here, they would be easily caught when the truck arrived. Besides, the water had just been turned off in the farmers ditch and the fishing would be great.

      P.S. It wasn’t until about a year later that we returned. Mother could never figure out how she had acquired the reputation of being such a filthy house keeper.

AS I REMEMBER

BY

TED DEWEY

INTRODUCTION

      The following story, I dedicate to my kids. It will be a brief history of my past life. As I will be writing from memory only, It will be impossible to remember all the correct dates. Also, the events in the order of which they happened. Most of this happened a long time ago. I will just try and cover the high-lights. So if I leave out something that you think should be there, please forgive me.

      I know that writing this will bring back a lot of memories. Most of them good, some them sad. What inspired me to write this was a telephone message I received from my daughter Sandra a few days ago. She asked me to write the story of my life. So here at Prescot Arizona, on the fifth day of July 1982, I begin this story. Without any notes I will start back as far as I can remember and just cover the high spots. I will not go back and edit it or look for miss-spelled words. Which there will probably be a good many. If you would like to correct them, go ahead. So now I will begin…

Sept. 3, 1982.

      Just finished the story this morning. At least for now. Hope all of you enjoy it.

Chapter 1

      It was a cold winter day that January 5th, 1910, when my mother gave birth to me at Grandpa and Grandma’s place in Emmett, Idaho. Of course this I don’t remember. But my dear mother told me about it many times.

           I was about two years old when Dad and Mother took up a one hundred and sixty acre homestead in the desert between Caldwell and New Plymouth. They built a one room shack on it and stayed there for two years. When we moved on to this place covered with nothing but sage brush, there was just three of us kids and one on the way. Brother Cecil was the oldest. About two and a half years younger was sister Afton. Then come myself and brother Ray was in the making. Later would come Del, Jennie and Bob.

      During those years that we stayed there, a couple of events are still vivid in my mind. Even though I was only three or four years old, I will tell about them. The first one first.

      We had gone to Emmett to visit Grandpa and Grandma. It was early in the spring of the year and still quite cold. Dad and Mother was riding up in the high seat of the big freight wagon. Us kids were in the back. We were almost home. It had been raining and most of the snow had melted. Up just ahead of us was a large, shallow pond of water. Dad yelled whoa to the horses and stopped the wagon. Everyone was on their feet. There was no way around. We would ford the water, then go on.

      Then suddenly, just across the pond, appeared a big Coyote. He just stood there looking at us. Dad responded quickly. The twenty two rifle, which he always took along, was in his hands. Then the report of gun… The bullet missed, but the Coyote just stood there.

      It was a Winchester pump action rifle. He attempted to throw another shell into the barrel, but the gun jammed. The fired shell was stuck in the chamber. Dad swore. That Coyote pelt was worth money. Once more he tried and failed. Then the Coyote laughed. Did you ever hear a Coyote laugh? Well, this one did. This was too much for Dad. He jumped into the seat, swung the gun around his head a few times, then hurled it at the laughing Coyote. It landed out in the middle of the pond with a big splash. The Coyote chuckled once more and went on his way. Dad was a very angry man as he waded out into that little lake to retrieve his rifle.

      There was one more incident that I will never forget. Brother Cecil was eight or nine years old. There were lots of badger holes around and in some of them were real live badgers. Dad had several steel traps; he decided to catch some of them. I went along and watched.      

      Cecil had learned from Dad and I would learn from him. When we would come to a fresh badger hole, he would set the trap and slide it down into the hole. He would then wire the trap

chain to the nearest sage brush, then go on looking for another hole.

      After watching him set several of the traps, I decided to set some of my own. I couldn’t press down the springs of these that he was using. I would just have to figure out something else. And I did. Now don’t laugh. After all, I was only three or four years old. I went back to the house and found what I thought would get the job done. A half dozen old mason fruit jar rubbers. Also a ball of twine and an old pair of scissors. When I would come to a fresh badger hole, I would tie one end of the string around the rubber and push it down the hole. Then I would cut it off and tie it to the nearest sage brush. I didn’t catch any badgers but I had a lot of fun trying. Just last summer, brother Cecil and I were talking about old times. I told him about these two experiences as I remembered them. He listened, then slowly nodded his head. His only remark was, “Well I’ll be damned.”

Here are links to Ted’s other books which are free online:
They Always Smile
Beyond the Bend in the River
Just A Little Bit Crazy