pistol as a graduation present and the Gills contributed a pair of wading boots) I began to strap a the pistol on my belt to use against snakes (mostly water moccasins which were plentiful), aggressive bull frogs, and a very occasional squirrel (which were usually "out of season"). These outings were great fun and in retrospect prime years for my progressive outdoors maturation. Fish caught were strung onto a cord stringer also tied to my belt. It was not rare to come in with 30 or 40 "keepers" from such an afternoon, especially when the willow flies were prevalent.
Booter and Jimmy built a relatively light but structurally substantial two-piece boat which they painted grey and the halves were secured by a vertical metal pin on either side. Two persons could load and unload it from a light truck bed and carry it up or down the bank to the water. Somewhere along the line "Doc" acquired an old Model T Ford and later a Model A sedan which were converted into a truck by the ingenious brothers Gill. Because it was high off the ground it could access bottom lands with their lakes, creeks and sloughs enabling the latter to be fished from this boat providing access to remote and at times relatively virgin fishing water. In it, of course, I learned to drive the Model T with its three foot pedals and two steering wheel adjustments. Using this combination of accessing equipment at one time or another there were few water holes in the region we didn't fish.
During WW II Jimmy and I frequently fished Horseshoe lake in the spring and fall when it seemed to be loaded with hungry bass. In the summer the same lake and occasionally the river where banked extensively by willows attracted green willow flies on their branches and the perch and bream nearly went crazy seeking to reach and devour them. We would attach three flies to one flyline leader and cast under the trees and not infrequently land two or three pan sized fish from a single cast! But the willow flies were only present for 2-3 weeks.
The portable boat really functioned best when one of us did the casting from the front (middle) seat and the other paddled and steered from the rear; we would alternate turns at each. In such an approach to fishing the role and performance of the paddler at times is more important than the fisherman's. On one afternoon Doc was paddling and I was fly casting on the lower end of Horseshoe and my leader sported only had a single small Holly Grove fly on it. Carefully and deliberately I cast over a couple of large logs into some brush and felt an instant surge by a big fish and easily set the hook. It quickly became apparent I had a big bass who had other plans than allowing me to land him peacefully because he started running deep. When this is the case the boat manager becomes as important as the fisherman in landing the catch. Well, Doc became excited at the size of the fish and forgot to steer the boat.
He first ran us up on a tree top and then a couple of logs. I expect I threw a couple of expletives in his direction, for his poor navigation was enough to assure me the fish was likely to prevail and get off the line. Doc finally regained some control but still had grounded the boat on one of the logs. However, I finally managed to drag the bass up onto a second log from which we netted it..... a 7# bass as it turned out and the only fish I caught that afternoon.
My use of the second log to land it was just as risky as Doc's paddling -- a real NO, NO. Doc's first comment was not the profound apology I deserved and expected but "I'm not going to paddle for you anymore, because you used bad language!" It was the largest fresh water bass I ever caught although five and six pounders were not infrequently landed. Booter and Jimmy had witnessed the entire incident from the bank of the lake and appeared totally supportive of my verbal castigation of Doc....
Fly fishing from the Oswald on Little Red river was such that small water moccasins could and would occasionally drop off overhanging willow limbs into the boat. Use of the .22 caliber Colt Woodsman pistol, or a 22 rifle sometimes was warranted if we could not readily eliminate the creature with a paddle. No significant problems were created by the bullet to the boat. Another optional target for the gun could be large bull frogs along the river bank.
Once while camping at the Ten Mile creek and wading to fly fish I spotted a large bull frog sitting just above the waterline on a low embankment. I decided to attempt to entice it to snap at my fly. Instead I hooked it through the frog's lower lip. The startled frog jumped and otherwise took off and into the water and it required four or five minutes to become sufficiently exhausted to successfully land it. An exciting and "different" episode. We had his legs for dinner that night.
Stover and I often would bike to/from the fishing holes, including "Big Hole" a couple of miles north of town which was adequate for overnight camping, swimming and a little fishing. In the summer when the river was low we could wade fish at the shoals a half mile or so above the "wagon" bridge or go down river about a mile to the "Best" shoals. The shoal fishing was not easy because the flowing water was often so clear that the fish were easily frightened.
A field on the southeast side of the wagon bridge, following a rain and recent plowing could be counted upon for revealing Indian arrow heads and other artifacts. In cold weather we would often hike down to the shoals with .22 rifles or 16 gauge shotguns seeking rabbits. squirrels, ducks, etc. On one occasion Stover and I raised a small covey of quails. (Stover fired one shot into the covey in the air at take off and to his credit and my utter amazement one of the birds fell.) When we picked it up the bullet had hit it in the head! Of course he assured me that had been his intent. Neither of us ever matched that one again.
The delights of the Arkansas outdoors in those years seemed inexhaustible and timeless. Little did we recognize what was to come.
Some of our older contemporaries occasionally came in with a bear; ducks and geese and wild turkey were more common, as were squirrels and rabbits. Stover's Mom occasionally encouraged us to bring several rabbits to her with a sack of clean corn shucks; she would use them to make delicious hot tamales.
My words are inadequate to describe the magnificent human being and gentleman that was my idol Footer Gill. All the lives he touched were enriched by knowing him. I regard myself as one of the most fortunate.
I hope I have adequately indicated that Booter was a master fisherman. On one occasion he and Don Travis took me with them to Steprock at the junction of Ten Mile and Stevens creeks. Don and I opted to fly fish several holes in Stevens Creek while Booter followed his instincts up Ten Mile creek. The fish clearly were little interested in my lures or casting skills and after two or three hours I had acquired only three or four "keepers". Don fared only slightly better. -- Booter reappeared at the bridge about thirty minutes after Don and I had given up---with a stringer filled with perch, bream, four or five 14 to 15" bass, and three pike weighing 1 1/2 to 2# each. Modestly, "AW, I just picked one up here and there" was his greeting.
On another occasion on Horseshoe Lake at Russell, Jim and I were bait-casting from the two section boat and fly-fishing (and only two of us could do so reasonably), on the lake while Booter indicated he would "fool around" in the slough with his fly rod. Jimmy and I enjoyed a good afternoon landing a dozen or more pan sized bream and seven or eight two to four pound bass... and our consciences were tweaking us that we hadn't given Booter his share of time with the boat. We walked up the slough several hundred feet and found Booter wading up to his chest in the creek gently extricating a large bream from a submerged tree top entanglement. He announced "I guess I'll come in now; I've got enough". As he gradually and quietly made his way up the bank it was apparent that the stringer tied to a belt loop was loaded with large bream. He then detoured down another path, and displayed another stringer which was just as filled as the first. When we reached the car he methodically began to unload his pockets-- rear pants, front pants, two shirt--- and from each came another two pan-sized bream. His comment, "too bad you guys didn't stay with me".
Shortly after WW II Booter and Jim Perkins hunted one morning with my dog "Spot" (an excellent squirrel dog). They went into the woods below Big Ditch before dawn and were back home in Judsonia by early afternoon accompanied by twenty-six squirrels. Booter's only comment, "we got a little lucky". I didn't envy them that outing for I had recently attempted a little hunting near the same area. It was hot and very humid and huge mosquitos were swarming and stay-off lotion and netting was largely ineffective for me. I shot a couple of squirrels but the miserable environment offset the pleasure of the hunt. Additionally, one of the fox squirrels I shot out of a tree was only wounded. Spot took off after it on the ground and quickly caught it but the squirrel retaliated by sinking a claw in Spot's nose and creating a bleeding laceration (to which I attended). To Spot's disgust I gave up and took him home.
In the 1930's one of the Arkansas senators (Caraway) died, and his wife, Hattie, was appointed to succeed him. She then had to run in a regular campaign for re-election, and I fail to recall the exact year. A strong opponent was chosen from the democratic ranks to oppose her, a Mr. Bodenhammer who had been a National president of the American Legion and was regarded by most of the forecasters as a shoo-in victor over Hattie. Her achievements in the Senate ranged from obscure to nil, although following the crash of an American airliner in eastern Arkansas en route from Memphis to Little Rock she had introduced a bill which would have required all commercial airlines to equip all passengers with parachutes (quickly opposed successfully by the airlines and others).
She had timidly supported most of the New Deal legislation.Probably in political desperation and no doubt with a number of political "chits" to be collected later, she secured the active support of Senator Huey P. Long from the state of Louisiana just to our south. Huey was bitter critic of Franklin D. Roosevelt and his New Deal.
Huey outfitted a truck with a P. A. system somewhat of an innovation to the locals then and set out on a pilgrimage throughout Arkansas to help Mrs. Caraway seek reelection. I recall my parents taking me to a meeting on the Court House square in Searcy at which the "traveling circus" was scheduled to appear. Surprisingly, to us, the square and surrounding streets were mobbed by the largest crowd I had seen in Searcy. Huey Long was a showman who could have generated envy from even P. T. Barnum, and the crowd ate it up, including the truck, emulated widely thereafter. The result was a major upset in November with Mrs. Carraway's overwhelming reelection. Mr. Bodenhammer faded into political oblivion. ... Sen. Long was shot to death in the capital in Baton Rouge, La. in 1935 by a Dr. Carl Weiss (subsequently challenged by some forensic scientists). His career was a transient rocket on the American political scene, but based upon what I witnessed and recall of the crowd effect that one day I believe he would have become an even greater national thorn in the side of FDR and possibly changed the history of that era significantly. He certainly mesmerized that crowd on that day when backing a perceived loser.
"Berry season" was a phenomenon that had major impact upon Judsonia and its environs, for Judsonia was the principal focus of that industry. School openings in the summer/fall and closings in the spring/summer were determined by the forecast dates of the harvest. The Enterprise Box company was the town's major industry year round. The merchants prospered from the monetary influx, and carnivals, tent shows and midways gravitated into the town. School children and others were taken to the berry patches in the early a.m. where they were distributed hand carriers which would hold six or eight empty quarts and be assigned a row of berries which they were responsible to pick. When finished the picker would proceed to the next row to be harvested, a process continued until the entire patch had been covered. Most farmers had sufficient acreage devoted to the plantings that a full day's work could be assured for the harvesters. When the quarts had been filled the picker would carry them to the field packing shed where they would be inspected for quality and completeness of filling. The picker was then given a colored ticket attesting the number of quarts picked. At the end of the week the tickets would be exchanged by the owner for the money earned (reimbursement at that time varied between 3 cents (good year) and 1 1/2 cents per quart (poor year). An adult picker was expected to harvest about 100 quarts per day, but exceptional ones could pick about 200 per day. The faster pickers were called "glomers", and the packers were attuned to devote special attention to their presentations, which now would probably be dubbed as "quality control".
Within the packing shed the quarts were screened one at a time by the packer to eliminate leaves and other trash, and berries that were overripe or excessively green. The quarts were then placed in a crate holding three layers of 8 quarts per layer. The crate was sealed with a wooden top and stacked with the others in the shed through the heat of the day. At the end of the day they were collected by wagon or truck and hauled to the shed at the Judsonia depot where they were unloaded, inspected, graded and purchased by a buyer (usually one of the collective fruit associations). They were loaded almost immediately upon a Railway Express car refrigerated by numerous 100# blocks of ice which had been deposited earlier during the day from chutes in the top of both ends of the car. An engine hooked up a train of the cars and hauled them overnight to northern markets. ... This process was repeated daily for the duration of the harvest, usually some four to six weeks.
During the season the town was vibrant and alive, and it served to bridge the time between spring and summer.
The Enterprise Box Company on the river at the foot of Judson Avenue was co-owned by our neighbors: Mr. Henry Roth whose home lot abutted ours on the north, and Mr. C. A. Figley whose house occupied the southwest corner of the lot at the intersection of Jefferson and Jackson streets (they had no labeling signs in those years). Both families were substantial citizens of the modest community. Mr. Roth was afflicted with Parkinsonism at an early age; he and his wife had no children. Mr. and Mrs. Figley had a daughter (Dorothy) a peer of the Gill boys, and a son (Charles, Jr. - who also approximated the Gill brothers in age albeit somewhat younger). Dorothy & Charles, and Booter matriculated and graduated from Ouachita College in Arkadelphia, a Baptist school. While there Dorothy met Arle Queen whom she later married.
Booter decided that he desired a career in dentistry, emulating his father. He was accepted for matriculation by the Washington University School of dentistry in St Louis. We were still experiencing the big depression and to secure the fiscal resources necessary for tuition, etc., Booter worked as a high school teacher and coach in several schools (I recall Lake Village and Carlisle but there may have been others.) After he entered the professional school his brother Jimmy would raid their mother's pantry following "canning season" and transport multiple items via auto to Booter in St. Louis to assure ample food. I accompanied him on the trip on several occasions (a two or three day outing). When possible Booter provided an evening of entertainment for us at the St. Louis Municipal Opera where the shows were excellent and very professionally staged and performed. Mrs. Gill always managed to include a few "treats" and Doc would include a little "folding money" when he could. They were delightful trips.
Since he was my senior, Charles Figley and I were more acquaintances than chums in my early years but he was a respected role model. He had a small model steam engine which I secretly coveted, and was proficient with a saxophone and clarinet. Charles also liked to fish. Their Enterprise Box Company owned some land in the bottoms with a farm occupied by the Hollingsworth family, whose sons Cleo and Jim attended school in Judsonia, and with whom Stover and I palled, and occasionally hunted or fished.
A fair amount of those lands were wooded and occasionally harvested of mature timber cut into approximately twelve foot logs. The latter were collected in the river and tied into large rafts which were periodically towed by a barge up river to the factory in Judsonia. The rafts remained floated adjacent to the north bank of the river between the factory and the railroad bridge until needed for milling. At that point they were individually pulled by an engine hoist up a large wooden chute onto a conveying belt which transported them through a progressive maze of saws, planes and sanders and a steaming process. The resulting thin slices of wood were aged and dried in sheds of covered racks. The entire manufacturing process occurred there and the finished crating materials stored to await sale at the next berry season.
Mrs. Gill's parents (Best's) were contemporaries of the Civil war and she occasionally would recall and recant some of the "Yankee stories " of that era when a strong pro-Confederate sentiment prevailed locally in spite of the presence of the "emigrants" and occasional Yankee troops. The White County Weekly Record of Nov. 26, 1997 reprinted an article by Ray D. Rains entitled "Confederate Lead" which serves to exemplify the flavor of Civil War tales involving that region, most of which have not found their way into the history books. It was the same period of time that Gen. Grant was attempting to secure the Mississippi river but experiencing all manner of problems with Vicksburg. In Mr. Rains' article he recalled the story of a lost lead mine citing an old timber cutter who asserted that his father had found an old piece of lead dug from the side of a mountain about five miles west-southwest of Pangburn where old-timers agreed that tradition supported the presence of a lead mine in the area but no one knew the exact location. One Aunt Mishie Porter, daughter of Johnny Patton, a settler on the Little Red River before the civil war. Aunt Mishie told one story of her childhood in Patton Hollow concerning Shon Haas, a Union soldier under Gen. Samuel Curtis.
In the spring of 1862 Gen. Curtis was camped on the north bank of White River, a short distance from Batesville. His troops were exhausted from the long trek across the Ozark mountains after the battle of Pea Ridge. Though that battle had been considered to be a Union victory, it had been a disaster for Curtis and his Yankee troops. Provisions for both men and animals had been depleted. It was time to stop and scrounge for supplies. Col. Osterhaus was Curtis' principal forager, but the poor and desolate mountains of northern Arkansas yielded little sustenance for such a huge army. However, Osterhaus learned that starting twenty miles below Batesville lay miles of rich, fertile land capable of providing great quantities of precious provisions. With 600 men he headed south toward the Little Red River. Before reaching the river the Colonel learned that his information was correct. Smokehouses were full of meats and dried fruits, pastures abounded with fat cows, and barns contained hay from last year's crops.
He had found the land of plenty, and here he headquartered, naming the site Camp Lynn.
To his surprise, Osterhaus learned of a lead mine some fifteen miles south of Camp Lynn. At the time lead was desperately needed by the Confederates. Osterhaus decided to reconnoiter the mine to ascertain whether the Yankees should mine the lead for their own use, or destroy it to keep the lead from enemy hands.
A nearby ferry owner acknowledged the mine's existence. But he said he had never been there, as friends and neighbors always brought back enough ore to divide with him. He said about four