Kids Going To School · Moore Family Stories

Kids Going To School

Dad come in saying, "I have bought the Hittson ranch across the Brazos River." That community was Pleasant Valley. We raised cotton, mules, hogs and corn, and kids. Mama asked, "What about Anne, Cam, Dock, Theodore and Hanner, going to school?" Later, Etta, "Sis", Ludie, "Rip", and Joseph Mote,(JM) "Toon" (rhymes with spoon) was born there on the Hittson---eight of us, in all--- Dad gave the nicknames. The first school that I went to was the new Willow Pond School. Jack Hittson had the lumber hauled from East Texas. He was one of the trustees for the first year, Dad was another and A J Autrey was the third. We have the original contract they signed to hire the first school teacher there, O. F. Cheves. It was signed May 21, 1902. $50 a month for six months. (Special thanks to Julia Jean, Hanner's daughter. She preserved the papers for us, along with about a dozen others.) That same year when I first started in the first grade, it went up to the 7^th. Mama’s brother, My Uncle Charlie Hess was going to school there. He was 12 years older than me. Bob Glover went to school until he was 21. I know there was sometimes 30 kids going to school there, one teacher.

Trustees

Dad was always a school trustee, from the time that I started in first grade. When we moved across the river to the Hittson ranch, Dad was trustee there until the last school there closed in 1923, at the Pleasant Valley Community. Dad had a better education than most anyone, including most of the teachers. Dad went to school in Mineral Wells at the old rock building when it was first built, (that they are trying to tear down now.) There were no high schools anywhere around.

When he was 17, Granmama peddled and saved the money to send him on the train to Alabama, so he could finish high school. He lived with Aunt Tildy, Grandad's sister. He liked all her kids. They come to visit us a lot--just as long as any of them were able to make the trip. 'Our Alabama Kinfolks', we had lots of fun every time any of them come. One trip they came in the winter, there were no leaves on the trees. They asked,"Why don't you plant your peach trees in rows, instead of just scattering them around?" They thought all the mesquite trees along the road were peach trees. They loved to shoot rabbits, and took the long Jackrabbit ears, home with them, to show. JM said that all of his 22 shells were always used up, when they left.

Well We Went To School

--but what a time we had. I stayed with Granmama 3 years, during school. I didn't like it, but I did. Cam stayed one year. They couldn't make him stay any more, he 'bawled the bottom out'. The other boys wouldn't stay with her. The Boone's moved in after we did, they had 12 kids. The Harrington's had 10 kids. Cousin Alex Moore had 3 kids and there were 8 of us Gills. We were cut off from the world, in the Hittson bend of the Brazos River, in Pleasant Valley. When the river was up, we couldn't cross at Oaks Crossing, The ferry had stopped by then. It was 18 miles to Mineral Wells, to go around by the big bridge. It was12 miles to Palo Pinto, the center of the county, the 'County Seat'. Palo Pinto was older but it never grew like Mineral Wells. Mineral water was what 'made' Mineral Wells. When we moved over the river in 1906, the school was 6 miles away.

Dad hired a teacher and "boarded' her. She lived and taught in one room of our house and ate with us. He paid her $30 a month, that’s what the regular school teachers got. Our home school was the three winter months, after the fall harvest and before spring plowing. The renters and neighbor kids come too. We forgot it all, by the time school started again---in nine months.

Miss Lawrence

She was our first teacher, in our house. She had a 'timid stomach'. When she thought no one was looking, she would take a spoon and eat the cream, off the top of the milk jar. Mama said it served her right---to have the stomach ache. Us kids knew better than to do that, besides, Mama was saving that cream to churn. One day Miss Lawrence told Dock that she was going to whip him for not spelling a word. Mama was listening and said, "Don't whip him for not being able to spell a word." The teacher closed the door and turned the wooden button so Mama couldn't get in. Mama said louder, "I'll beat the stuffin' out of you, if you whip him." She didn't.

Miss Lawrence wrote a letter to her parents. Mama didn't like her and she opened it. She wrote them, "The family I’m staying with, is a 'Roosevelt type' of family." That was a slur on the number of kids that we had. Mama never opened another one of her letters. Then in three months, after the school in our house was over, I would go and stay with Granmama and go to school at Willow Pond school for three more months. The teacher there didn't like it---to have one more student---but Dad never knew it. Willow Pond was always to crowded, sometimes as many as thirty. We liked our next two home teachers better, Miss Ella Gann and Cleo Warren.

A New Pleasant Valley School

The school year was only 3 months--then it went dead too, in 1923. There was not a well. We had to walk down the road to Fritz Moore's well to get water, to drink. Sometimes a bigger boy would carry a bucket. Sometimes two of us would carry a bucket of water, on a stout limb between us. We would put the limb on our shoulders and put the bail of the bucket, over the stick. Most of it would slosh out, we didn't mind carrying water.

Skating

There was a pond across the road. When it froze, we would tear out there, at recess or dinner time. We wanted to skate all we could, before the ice melted. We just skated with our regular shoes, they all had leather soles. Some of the others could go like the wind. I wasn't one of the daring ones, when I tried to go fast, I fell flat of my face or back. The teacher was right out in it too. We were all laughing and rough and ready.

Snow

It used to snow a lot. We made snowmen and used cuckleburs for eyes. Snowball fights were such fun, nobody ever got hurt.

We Walked Three Miles to School

The roads were clay, there were only wagons, buggies and horses on the road, and not many of them. The road was never packed down and hard. When it rained, it was boggy and sticky and it would pull our shoes off, every step. We would bawl and squall, walking to school in the mud---but keep going.

Old Baldy was our big old bulldog

He wanted to go to school with us. Other kids would throw rocks at him. That made him liable to bite them, so he had to be tied at home. One pretty day we went to school and it come up a 'blue norther'. Mama tied a note to Old Baldy's neck and told him to go to school. The note told us to stay at school 'till Dad could come for us in the wagon with coats and quilts. Us kids sure were glad to see him coming. The wind was howling and it was freezing, and 'spitting snow'.

Our Dogs

We always had dogs, too many, maybe one apiece. Sometimes a new stray would show up, Mama would say, "That ain't 'nothing but a hound dog'---run it off." We would chase and chase and nearly run ourselves to death.

Greyhounds

One time Dad got 3 of them, they would chase rabbits, so pretty. Stretch low and run, then jump up so high and look to see which way the rabbit went, and change directions. They killed off all the rabbits around. Mama never did like them as much as she did the other dogs. They looked so skinny, she couldn't fatten them up. She cooked big pans of cornbread to feed them. There wasn't 'store bought' dog food then.

The big old potbellied stove

Etta liked that old stove, it set in the corner of the school house, at Pleasant Valley. "The teacher would let us gather around it, when it was real cold. Ellen Boone and I liked to hide behind it and whisper and talk."

The Good Young School Teacher

Her father was a lawyer in Palo Pinto. Her sisters were all teachers too. The teacher went to a party, with the brother of a man who had raped a young girl. The young girl was going to have a baby and the man was in jail. The other trustee come to see Dad one night. We heard him tell Dad, "That teacher has got to be fired." Dad told him, "If she is fired, you will have to do it." Us kids heard it, and we were tickled that school would be out. We went to school the next day giggling, "It's the last day of school. It’s the last day of school." Late in the day, the other trustee come into our school. He told our teacher, "You are fired because you went out with the brother of a rapist." The whole family of a rapist was disgraced. We went home happy that "School is out! School is out!" We had no more school that year. The teacher's lawyer-father said, "Well, that’s the first time one of my daughters was ever fired." That was the only rape I ever heard of. The little boy died before school age, something that run into pneumonia.

Hisaw's (high-saw's)

They were a new family that moved into the community. Ruth and Luther were upper school age. Cam and Dock come home from school, telling us all about it. First off, Ruth got in trouble and she was going to whip Miss Mamie Hill. The teacher was about to get the best of Ruth. Wayne was the oldest Boone boy, he headed off Luther and told him not to hit the teacher. Simon Boone guarded Luther. The teacher whipped Ruth. Simon and Luther fought and Luther got throwed out the door. The two Hisaws were going to run the teacher off. They didn't come back to school and soon moved to town. We would hear tales of what they did there. That’s the only time that anything like that ever happened. My teachers were always well respected and I loved them.

Etta remembers April Fool's Day 1917

It was a beautiful day. We were all at Pleasant Valley School. After dinner (lunch for you non-southerners) the boys decided to play hooky, and they slipped off from school. Me and Rosemary thought that if they could, we could too. So we left and Ludie come too, she was in the first grade. That just left the Boone kids at school. We couldn't think of anything to do. We didn't even pass a house on the way home. There was not anything but trees and the road.

Barber Mountain

So we decided to climb the little mountain, it was just off the road, on our way home. A mile west of Oaks Crossing, it had big rocks up at the point, nearest the road. We knew that it was named after a former mayor of Mineral Wells. Mama had went with his son. The tiny little steep mountain was a good outing place. We found arrow heads, every time we climbed it.

Indians

We did not know that the last white man killed by Indians, in Palo Pinto County, was here at Barber Mountain. A group of Indians were on a raiding party and they were being chased, by settlers. The settlers were about to catch them. The Indians 'made a stand' at Barber Mountain. It was the last stand for those Indians. They were all killed, but one, he was running away and no one shot at him. They hoped that he got back to Oklahoma, and there would be no more Indian raids. Indians were not considered humans--they did not bury them.

The Rattlesnake

Standing on top on the big rocks, we could see so far away. We stepped across the cracks, at the narrow places. Looking down about 10 feet, we saw the big-g-est old rattlesnake crawling. We hunted rocks to kill it. The rocks were all to big for us to pick up. Rosamond throwed her little dinner (lunch) bucket at the snake. It had come from the store with peanut butter in it. Peanut butter had just 'come out' and we all admired her new dinner bucket. It rattled and banged on the rocks all the way down. The noise was so loud, there on top of the mountain. It scared us and we went to the point and come down the quickest way. We got home early, nothing was ever said about us playing hooky. Every time we climbed the mountain, for years later, we could look down and see the little rusty bucket---and shiver at the thought of that big rattlesnake. There is a road up the back of the mountain now. You can drive nearly to the top.

McEntires were one of our nearest neighbors

We knew that 'Pump' has a still, up on Barber Mountain. Dad showed me how to watch for a thin little wispy curl of smoke, curling up the side of the mountain, And I could see it. We never went up there, someone might be hanging around there, drinking.

No one thought much, about bootlegging as being against the law. It was a way of making a living. In 1925, there were 40,000 bootleggers in Texas. There were 40 federal agents to cover both Texas and Oklahoma.

David Reedy, Docks grandson remembers that Dock took him up there in the 60's. They found a few old pieces of metal laying around, where the still had been.

McEntires

Pump and Burlie had an only son J.B. He worried Mama a lot, he was real spoiled. He was just a little bit older than J.M. We all had metal dinner buckets, half gallon size. They had come from the store with syrup or lard in them. JB was a little boy at school. One other little boy had a pretty little red lard 'dinner bucket'. J.B. pee'd on it, and then he run. He outrun the other boy and got home to his front porch. The other boy caught him and whipped him on his own front porch. His Mama run out to rescue him. But he already had to hollar, "Calf Rope' and "Uncle". We were all tickled, he was as spoiled as he could be. We all liked him, though. (We 'kept up' with him when he moved to California, and had a son. J.B. died and then his son died later.)

Pump McEntire

He was a ladies man and he ruled everything. He died. Pump had a brother, Arthur, who had diabetes too. He had gangrene in his leg. The Doctors sent him to Fort Worth to have the leg cut off---or to die. Mrs. McEntire was his only 'folks'. We put her on the bus to go and be with him. It was her first trip to Fort Worth. The Doctor come out and handed her the leg. He told her that she had to take it. It was wrapped in newspapers--it looked to be as long as she was, she was a little woman. She was crying---she didn't know what she would do. She walked out and got on the elevator, it had a black operator. He asked her why she was crying so hard. He told her that he would take the leg.

"Oh, I was so glad!------ I would have give him a dollar, but it was the only one I had. And I had to ride a taxi to find the bus station. I would have kissed him, but he was a N----r and I couldn't. I just thanked him and thanked him." We asked her that story for years. She told it over and over, still excited, still thankful.

Snap!

There were lots of parties at McEntires. We always played Snap! Two people stood and put their hands together---up high. A boy reached out, toward a girl and snapped his fingers, he did not touch her. He "Snapped" her. That ment that she was to chase him until she caught him. He then was one who put his hands up, and the girl, "Snapped" a boy. Then she was the one being chased. All ages played, 3years on up. There was a lot of grabbing and swinging onto the center couple. Some of them had a really hard time catching the one that had snapped them.

Ludie laughs, remembering, "Oh, I run a hundred miles around couples. Just around and around and around. I remember all the fun. "Radios nor record players had not been invented. There never was any music. None of us could play music--- didn't have anything to play. There never was any food. We didn't have money to buy food, just for parties. There were no Cokes, chips, snacks or cookies to buy. Oh, but we had fun---just like you all think you do now." Dad wouldn't let us have parties, but he let us go to them. Sis would ride on the horse behind me. Boones' had parties. Mrs. Boone didn't like them, but the younger ones wanted them. Harringtons had parties. We all had fun.

Etta remembers World War I

November 19,1918, I was 11 years old and scared. We all were, we tried to stay quiet about it. Our big brothers were going off to war. Me and Hanner and Ludie had to go to school. Anne was at Granmama's in town. Early that morning Dad, Cam, Dock and Black all rode their horses to town. A bunch of Palo Pinto County boys were to report,

to enter the army. They had been drafted and already examined. They were to leave on the train from Mineral Wells at 4 P.M. Dock was barely 18, all he had heard ---was bad. He was scared to death and did not want to go. Cam had flat feet and didn't pass. But he turned around and volunteered to enlist, so he could be with Dock and help him. Mama and JM were at home. He was 13 months old. About noon in town---the news broke, that the war was really going to end. Dad called Mama on the telephone and told her about it. "And maybe the boys would get to come home."

Dad was a school trustee, he told Mama to, "Call Mrs. Boone on the telephone and tell her to have one of her boys to go to school, and tell the teacher to turn out school, "The War Is Over!!" She did, but I have always been mad at that teacher; because she told us not to holler on the school ground. Some of us run out in the road and let out a 'whoop and a holler'. We did holler on the way home. When we got home, Mama had JM straddle of her hip. She said, "Let's go to the watermelon patch. I don't want to be in this house when that clock strikes 4". That was the hour, that our boys were to board that train for the army. We stayed at the watermelon patch a l -o -n -g time. The army officers had the boys marching on the street, they had no place to keep them. Anne was in town with Granmama and watched them. The boys did not know how to march. Anne heard Dock yell at the officers, "Don't you hear these people saying that the war is over? Let us go home!" Sure enough the trainmen would not load the boys. Finally, the officer in charge told them to go home.

Along about dark, here come Dad with our boys. Cam and Dock got an army discharge in the mail, for one days service, and one days pay. November 18,1918 Armistice Day-- the end of World War I. It ended up, a beautiful day.

Blue Pond School

One year the boys started at that community school. It was across the river, to the west. If the river come up, Dad had to get them by boat. Dad said, "The boys can't stay with the Glidwell's, they have all them gals up there." There was Effie, Lorene, Adelle and Lizzie. The boys were Bill, Dock, Johnny and Joe. Then when the boys got home---they stayed home, until the river went down. I could have taught them but they wouldn't listen to me. They could have learned, they just wouldn't. They were 'bull headed'. Black laughs---remembering making his spitballs that would stick to the ceiling.

Schools and The River

What a time we had, going to school---on account of that river. At the very first, there was a nice one-room school behind the Hittson graveyard. Uncle Billy had lumber hauled by the wagon from Fort Worth in 1870's and built it. His kids and all the neighbors kids went to it. Hess' and Gills' went horseback to that one---until one was built on their side of the river. Oaks Ferry would take them across, when the river was up. Then a one-room school was built between Grandad’s and Mineral Wells. It had a pond and willows grew around it. So it was called Willow Pond School. It was built too close to town, so a new school was soon built a mile further from town. Uncle Billy Hittson had the lumber hauled in for it too, he donated the building. Him and Dad and A. J. Autrey were the trustees, the first year I went to school, 1902, the first year the school opened. That school was called Willow Pond also.

Pleasant Valley

When we moved over the river in 1906, the school was 6 miles away. So Dad hired teachers and boarded them for 3 years, our school was in our house. Another Pleasant Valley school was built, 3 miles away. The school year was only 3 months and it didn't last many years. One year the boys went to Blue Pond. I stayed with Granmama some, Cam stayed with her one year. Progress was the name of the new two story school building that was built a half mile south of the Willow Pond School. The community became 'Progress'. It is still the 'Willow Pond Cemetery'. Etta, Ludie and JM went to Progress School, by horseback, it was the best school. About the 8^th grade, Ludie wrote in one of her books.

When ice cream grows on coconut trees

And the Sinai desert is muddy

And cats and dogs wear underwear

Then I will like to study.

Ludie remembers, "That was a long hard trip, from our house across the river. I would put water on my hair to 'fix it', and start to school. In the winter there would be little icicles, down my hair---onto my neck. When it was real cold, sometimes me and JM would ride 'Old Donk' together. We would take turns setting on each others hands. Old Donk liked to go under a tree limb, real slow, to brush us off. Sometimes we would ride our horses. Me, Etta and JM went to Palo Pinto some. I stayed with Aunt Jennie and the rest stayed at Boone's. JM graduated from High School at Palo Pinto. The bus was supposed to go all the way to the river. So instead, the school bus come right up to our door to pick JM up. There never was 100 people living in Palo Pinto. The students who lived in Palo Pinto felt like that they were in a big city. They considered anyone who lived in the country, was a hick. JM felt that the day he graduated---he had as many friends---as the day he started.