Well lookey here, can y’all believe it’s another year gone by? Cookie and me, we’ve been settlin’ in back home in Wyomin’ and WHOO-EEE the campfire sure does smell sweeter out here!
2013 is the 125th Anniversary of Sheridan County Wyoming!! YEEE-HAW!! So throughout the year, I’ll be sharin’ some of the highlights of this county! All of my stories are set in this area of Wyoming, or have ties to it, and after readin’ a bit about its history, y’all will know why!
Today we’re gonna visit the sportin’ houses of Sheridan. Cookie, bless his soul, offered to “interview” the gals! Cookie now has a bump on his head where a cast iron skillet “slipped” from my hand. J
‘Nough of that, let’s get goin’…
March 9, 1888, Sheridan County Wyoming was founded with the county seat being the town of Sheridan. Ranches, mines, railroads, mills and a brewery all became important entities of Sheridan’s history. As much a part of this history were Sheridan’s brothels. The town’s red light district boomed from 1888 through the early 1900s with the last of the “houses” closing in the 1960s.
The Sheridan County census, in 1900, listed Jane Stewart “Missoula Jane” and along with six other “dressmakers” and two “laundresses” living on Val Vista and First Streets. Police records that same year recorded Jane Stewart’s arrest for renting a house to Ida Fitzgerald for prostitution.
Lizzie Lane ran a house on East Grinnell Avenue. Lizzie came from Kentucky, as did the cook she brought with her. Her seven girls, all black, ranged in age from 22 to 29 and came from various parts of the South.
Fifteen Ladies of Ill Repute were arrested for violating Ordinance #72, Sect. 3. Thirteen of the girls were fined $5.50 each. Two, Nellie Lay and Vivian Crawley were fined $15.50, leading researchers to believe their higher fine meant these women were the proprietors.
Despite arrests and fines, by 1910, houses of ill repute lined East Grinnell Street. Main Street, North Connor and Custer also had a few houses scattered among other businesses and residences. The census listed 70 “soiled doves” in business. They are listed as inmates in houses of prostitution or proprietors. Sixteen houses are marked F.B. on the city’s map. This meant there was a female border (i.e. prostitute) at that house.
A further look at the city’s census records from the early 1900s sheds light on why “female borders” were choosing to settle in Sheridan. At this time Sheridan had a population of 10,000, with the majority of the population being very young men in their 30s and unmarried. Sheridan, the city and the county, was a region of mines, railroads, construction jobs, and of course cowboys.
It was also a time of few choices for women if they were single, divorced or abandoned. One researcher found that “out of 39 of the prostitutes on the census were single, seven divorced, 17 had been married, or were married, with a total of 12 children.” (George Gligoria)
Some of the “respectable” women of Sheridan benefited from the working girls selling them dishes and making their clothes. One woman remembers her aunt making dresses, slippers, handbags and lingerie for the girls during the early 1900s. Though she managed a peek at some of the items, her aunt kept the lingerie well hidden from prying eyes. She also never saw the girls and didn’t know if they came to the house, or her aunt went to them.
She recalled the skirts being “hobble skirts; tight from the hip down with a drape up to the knees…Some were split. They were very tight. Girls could hardly walk in them. They were sleeveless with a low-cut neckline.” Surprisingly, the dresses had no frills like lace or beads, but they were always made of satins in shades of pinks, greens, yellows, and blues. Their slippers were covered in satin to match. Cantaloupe seeds would be washed, dried and strung to tack on the satin handbags and the dresses. As the girl walked the seeds would shake and show satin.
Not all of the soiled doves in Sheridan wore satin. As in most places there were four levels of prostitution in Sheridan. From the elegant parlor houses like The Castle to the middle-class saloons and finally the cribs and hog ranches that catered to the lowest class of men. Street walking was all but eliminated in the city by arrests and fines. There was a limit to what was acceptable to the citizens of Sheridan.
By 1919, there was a shift to the Red Light district from Grinnell to Main and East Works. Prostitution houses included My Hotel, Rex Hotel, Irma Hotel, Elgin Rooms, the Shirley House, and a sheep wagon parked behind Crescent.
Prohibition failed to curtail prostitution in Sheridan. There were more arrests, but through the 1930s the Rex Hotel, the Irma and the Antlers and the Palm rooms continued to operate without interruption. Side note: Prohibition didn’t curtail drinking in Wyoming either because…it’s Wyoming, but that’s a story for another day.
One of the most infamous madams was Pearl Logan, born Pearl Colett. Although Pearl ran a series of rooming houses for over 40 years, she is best known as the proprietor of the Rex Hotel from 1930 to 1960. Five working girls resided in the large rooming house. During her long rein at the Rex, Logan secured a strong affinity with law enforcement, tenants and the girls. Sheepherders and cowboys who came to town for a bender, or for an entire off -season trusted Pearl more than the local banks and left most of their earnings with Logan. She kept their money safe from gambling tables and thieves and a cowpoke’s summer wages remained safe.
Image courtesy of the Sheridan County Museum
When the U.S. Government decided to get tough on sexually transmitted diseases, Pearl did her part posting the pamphlets around the Rex. The Rex closed in 1965, along with all the big houses, when County Attorney Henry Burgess ran a campaign to stop prostitution and gambling. Pearl Logan died in 1977.
Despite the taboo of their profession the women were said to be “extremely clean, well-cared for by doctors and very likable.” The women who sold items to them described them as nice women.
A cab driver from the early 1950s said the girls were great tippers. They would tip 50 cents to a dollar on a fare of 35 to 40 cents. However, as nice as he thought the girls were he transported them “solo” rather than with other customers.
Whether parlor house or crib, these women lived harsh lives often cut short by disease or violence, but the fact is these women lived and contributed to the history of Sheridan. Some of the women were able to secure a bit of respect, and from what I could find most were considered kind and generous by many of Sheridan’s citizens.
This is not meant to be the whole story, just a small peek behind the locked doors of Sheridan’s rooming houses.
“No, Cookie, ya can’t do further research! Ya just get yerself back to the campfire and stay away from the Rex!” Ol’ dirty codger…
I better go make sure he don’t get sidetracked! See y’all next time!
SOURCES:
THE SHERIDAN PRESS. “Working Girls: Early Sheridan Haven for Brothels.” Saturday-Sunday, August 21-22, 1999. pgs. 1-2.
THE LOG. “The Business of Sin in Sheridan.” Vol. 2, Number 1, Spring 2010. Pgs. 1 and 7.
When Cookie and me need a saddle or rope where do we go…well to the best of course King’s Saddlery and King’s Ropes!
And where do I go when the cowboy in my current work in progress needs a top of the line saddle…well he just moseys on over to King’s Saddlery!
Born in Douglas, Wyoming, in 1923, Don King was the son of an itinerant ranch hand, Archie King. By the age of 14, Don learned to tool leather as he supported himself with odd jobs at ranches and rodeos. He sold and traded wallets, belts and other small gear. “I traded for pants, shirts, hats, spurs, anything. Sometimes I ended up with nothing.”
King worked on ranches throughout the West, finally settling down in Sheridan, Wyoming in 1946. There he became an apprentice to expert saddle maker Rudy Mudra. King assisted in the building of saddles and created piecework for local cowboys.
After acquiring his own ranch he committed his time to that enterprise until in 1957, when he devoted himself full-time to saddlemaking and leather tooling. King preferred to focus on highly ornamental trophy saddles like those given as prizes in rodeo competitions. During this time, he developed his own style of tooling. A style characterized by wild roses “with a distinctive shape, as though they were viewed from a 45-degree angle.”
By 1961, when King opened his own business on Main Street in Sheridan, he was well-known among ranchers and rodeo stars for his impeccable craftsmanship. This artistry and precision is best demonstrated in the making of the saddle type he created, the Sheridan-style saddle. The Sheridan-style saddle is “in its general form, a classic high plains roping saddle: short, square skirts; a low cantle with a broad Cheyenne roll…” But the most distinctive element is the wild rose (Sheridan Rose) tooling. King also used unusually deep stamping to give “greater three-dimensional depth to his tooling…”
Sheridan Style Saddle
His skill earned King the PRCA World Championship Saddle contract for 6 years. Some of these saddles are displayed at the National Cowboy Hall of Fame and PRCA Rodeo Hall of Fame. The honors King received for his works include: Chester A. Reynolds Award from the National Cowboy Hall of Fame, The National Heritage Fellowship for the Folk Arts from the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Governor’s Quality Business Award for the State of Wyoming. King was also a founding member of the Traditional Cowboy Arts Association.
Through the years King’s saddles have been acquired by everyone from local Wyoming cowboys to celebrities and dignitaries such as: Queen Elizabeth, Ronald Reagan, and the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia.
King’s Saddlery & King’s Ropes is a must stop in Sheridan. Not only can you walk back to the rope shop and pick out your very own custom rope, but there is a Museum off the rope shop filled with saddles of any style along with Old West collectibles. But beware it is extremely easy to walk in empty-handed and walk out with empty pockets…I speak from experience! But guess where I’ll be next week…?
I don’t know about y’all, but when Cookie and me are in the mood for a bit of “the sport of kings” well the first place we think of headin’…Sheridan and nearby Big Horn, Wyomin’, of course!
One of the ten largest polo clubs in the United States today is the Big Horn Polo Club near Sheridan, Wyoming. There are forty-five, full-time members including the last three winners of the U.S. Open. Some of the best American polo players still make a pilgrimage to the Big Horn Polo Club, and the most prestigious polo breeding operation in the world is located there.
During the late 19th Century, Englishmen and Scotsmen moved to the area purchasing ranches usually with the intent of breeding thoroughbred horses. With them they brought the game of polo, which they taught to their ranch hands.
The first spectator game of polo, in Wyoming, was played on July 4, 1893 at the Sheridan fairgrounds. The hour and ten minute game pitted Beckton against Sheridan. Both teams were primarily composed of British players, including Captain Pete Stockwell a British officer formerly stationed in India, who played for Beckton.
The umpire during that game was Frank Grouard. Grouard was captured by the Sioux in 1870. He lived with the Sioux until he joined the U.S. Army and scouted for General George Crook. After the Indian Wars, Grouard came back to the Big Horn area and went into the horse business.
Malcolm Moncreiffe and Ways
Not long after over a thousand spectators witnessed that first polo game, Scotsman Malcolm Moncreiffe moved from Powder River to the Big Horn area and built a polo field and breeding operation in 1898. Moncreiffe’s breeding operation was one of the finest in the world, and he exported Wyoming-bred thoroughbred polo horses and foxhunters to England. Moncreiffe also provided over 20,000 of his Wyoming thoroughbreds to the British cavalry and artillery during the Boer War.
Along with building his breeding operation, Moncreiffe developed a polo team with his friend Bob Walsh. Bob Walsh, a former piano player in a whorehouse in Miles City, Montana, was by this time the president of Moncreiffe’s First National Bank in Sheridan. By the turn of the century, Moncreiffe and Walsh traveled with their team to Colorado Springs winning a tournament on the lawn of the Broadmoor Hotel. The tournament featured several Army teams, a Denver team and a team from Kansas City.
But it wasn’t Moncreiffe or Walsh who led their team to victory, but genuine cowboy, John Cover. Cover was a bronc rider, steer roper, relay rider and cattleman. As a teenager he started working for Moncreiffe. Cover was eventually put in charge of the polo operation and evolved into one of the top players in the United States. He quit Moncreiffe after a dispute and was immediately hired by Goelet Gallatin who owned the Circle V Polo Company in Big Horn.
The Circle V was started at the end of the First World War, and became one of the premier polo operations in the world. The Circle V expanded its polo operations to include more than 150 top brood mares, and established a winter location in Aiken, South Carolina. Broodmares from the Circle V were sent to top international players throughout the world including Tommy Hitchcock, Ambrose Clarke and Deveraux Milburn. When Cover arrived at the Circle V, Hitchcock and Milburn trailed him in an attempt to acquire a few of his secrets. Cover became such a well-respected player, he was asked to join a team of Americans traveling to England. He refused stating “he had cows to look after.” Cover was known as the second-best Back in the United States, behind his protégé Milburn.
By the 1920s and 30s, world class horse breeders were firmly established in the area including Cameron Forbes, Alan Fordyce and O.H. Wallop. These men also established polo teams and rivalries, friendly and not, resulted in local games benefiting charities such as the Salvation Army, Red Cross and local charitable organizations. Many of these thoroughbred breeders had been in business over 30 years, producing some of the heartiest horses on Earth.
In 1948, the Neponset team repeated history on the lawn of the Broadmoor Hotel winning the National 12-Goal Championship match. Bloodlines of six Kentucky Derby winners were present on that team.
But polo started to fade from the local scene in the late 1950s. Bob Tate began a resurgence of the sport, in 1963, with Malcolm and John Wallop and a Tepee Lodge team.
By the early eighties, the Moncreiffe field was sold and a group of players established the Big Horn Equestrian Center including the Big Horn Polo Club. In 2000, two teams with their breeding operations in Sheridan won the U.S. Open.
The Flying H Polo Club, started on what used to be the Circle V, became one of the premier summer clubs in the United States offering high-goal polo. Some of the top international players have participated at the Flying H, including eight U.S. Open winners.
If y’all are interested in takin’ in a game, no need to high-tail it across the Atlantic. Just set sail on a prairie schooner to Sheridan where three days a week from July to Labor Day you can see “the game of kings” at either the Big Horn Polo Club (the oldest polo club West of the Mississipp) or at the Flying H Polo Club.
Now see, Cookie and me we’re just full of culture and the like. Why we might go so far as to bathe before headin’ on over to the polo field.
Whoo-eee, y’all, it’s been a coon’s age and a year since we’ve had a Western Wednesday feature! I’m pleased to have Ms. Margaret Daley back ‘round the fire with the second book in her Men of the Texas Rangers series, SHATTERED SILENCE!
Once again, Ms. Daley tackles some of the toughest issues facing our society and packages it all within a fast-paced thrilling romantic suspense!
So come on ‘round the fire and make sure you read the excerpt from SHATTERED SILENCE and then read on to learn a bit about Margaret Daley in an interview she graciously provided!
A serial killer is targeting illegal aliens in southern Texas. Texas Ranger Cody Jackson is paired with a local police officer, Liliana Rodriguez, to investigate the murders.
While the case brings Cody and Liliana ever closer, the tension between Americans and Mexican Americans heightens. As Cody and Liliana race to discover who is behind the murders and bring peace to the area, what they uncover isn’t what they expected. Will Cody and Liliana’s faith and love be strong enough to survive the storm of violence?
This book in the series (each book stands alone) is about bullying in various situations in society from high school to the workplace to a marriage.
KIRSTEN’S THOUGHTS: Margaret Daley’s MEN OF THE TEXAS RANGERS series just gets better and better. In SHATTERED SILENCE, Daley addresses bullying, domestic abuse, racism, workplace relationships, faith, love, forgiveness and redemption, and does it all while authorities race to find a serial killer in a small Texas town. Daley does a superb job of weaving all these facets together without the reader’s head spinning, or left feeling overwhelmed.
Liliana Rodriguez is a strong female detective, but in many ways is content hiding behind her job to avoid any romantic relationships. Her journey was touching to watch as she battles to find a serial killer and fights her own fears.
On the outside, Cody Jackson is confident and unshaken Texas Ranger, but inside he is battling his own insecurities and turmoil threatening his faith.
Both Liliana and Cody come across as real people in extraordinary circumstances forced to work through their own issues and trust each other and God before they can solve those things tearing their families and the town of Durango apart. I was drawn to each character from their first appearance on page. Once again, Daley created characters the reader really cared about, and could identify with and learn from.
The secondary characters were genuine, as well. Each representing a facet of our society and yet well rounded, and therefore avoiding becoming two-dimensional. Even the “villain” wasn’t a melodramatic caricature, but someone faced the same obstacles as others, but choosing to pay evil with evil. There were moments when the “villain” evoked as much sympathy as many of the other characters.
As always, Margaret does and exceptional job of weaving faith and the love of God through SHATTERED SILENCE, and using her characters as wonderful examples of what He can do for and with ordinary humans if we give everything to Him.
EXCERPT FROM SHATTERED SILENCE:
No one sees me. They walk right by me and don’t even know I am here. I’m invisible.
But that’s all going to change today. The woman who has agreed to marry me will be here soon. The world will finally know someone cares about me. It was worth all my savings to bring her across the border.
I’m tired of being alone. Being nobody. I’m getting married. I won’t be invisible anymore—at least she’ll see me.
* * *
Maria Martinez lay flat on the dust-covered wooden planks, her right eye pressed against the hole in the floor of the abandoned house. Pedro won’t find me here. I’ll win this time.
A sneeze welled up in Maria, and she fought to stop it. She couldn’t. Quickly she looked through the small opening to make sure Pedro hadn’t come and heard her. Her older brother always thought he could do everything better than her. Not this time. He’d never think to look here. He’d think she was too afraid to hide here. A rattling behind her sent a shot of fear through her. She went still. Her lungs held her breath and wouldn’t let go.
There’s no such thing as ghosts. He just told me that to scare me. I’m not a baby. I’m eight.
Her words fueled her courage, and she popped up to look over her shoulder. Nothing. Just the wind blowing through the broken window. Maria sank to the floor in relief and took up her post again. Watching through the hole. If Pedro came into the house, she’d be ready to hide. He was not going to find her. For once, she would have the last laugh. He was just two years older, but the way he acted, you’d think he was Papa.
Another sound caught her attention. Down below. Footsteps. She started to hop up and scramble to her hiding place nearby, but a gruff, deep male voice stopped her. Not Pedro. Who?
With her eye glued to the hole again, she waited to see who it was. Another voice—a woman’s—answered the man, then she laughed. A funny laugh—like Pedro when he made fun of her.
“Dumb. Evil eye,” the woman taunted in Spanish.
The man raised his voice, speaking in the same language so fast Maria had a hard time keeping up. Mama insisted on only speaking English at home. Now she wished she was better at Spanish. But she heard some words—the ones he slowed and emphasized, repeating several times in a louder voice a few cuss words that got Papa in trouble if he said them at home. The deep gruff voice ended with, “You will pay.”
The woman laughed again, but the sound died suddenly. “What are you doing?” she said in Spanish.
Maria strained to see the two people. The lady moved into her line of sight as she stepped back, shaking her head, her long brown hair swirling in the air. Maria glimpsed the top of a tan cowboy hat that hid the man’s face from her.
The beautiful lady held up her hands. “No!”
The fear in that one word chilled Maria.
Before she could think of what to do, a gunshot, like she’d heard on TV, blasted the quiet. The lady jerked back. She glanced down at her chest, then up, remaining upright for a few heartbeats before crumbling to the floor.
Maria froze. Her mind blanked.
The man came closer to the still lady on the floor, her unseeing dark eyes staring right at Maria, pinning her against the wooden planks. She saw the gun as he lifted his arm and aimed it at the woman. He shot her in the stomach then the forehead.
Maria gasped.
The man must have whirled away. Suddenly he wasn’t in her line of vision. She bolted to her feet as the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs echoed down the hallway.
Terror locked a vise about Maria and held her in place.
INTERVIEW WITH MARGARET DALEY:
Can you tell us a little bit about yourself?
I have been writing for thirty-four years and sold my first book in 1981 in the secular market. After twenty books, I was introduced to the Christian market by the Lord, who gave me a story I could only tell with a faith thread in it. I have gone on to sell sixty-three books since that happened in 2000.
I have been married for forty-two years to Mike and we have one son Shaun and four granddaughters from ages 3-12. I also have three cats that adopted us and think they rule the household. Don’t tell them but they probably do.
When did you first discover that you loved writing?
I’ve always been a storyteller since I was a little girl. I never wrote those stories down, but after reading many books, I decided to try to write one. Since that first book, I’ve been continually writing–all with a romance thread in the story.
Why do you write the type of books that you do?
The first books I remember reading and really enjoying were the books in the Nancy Drew series. From there I grew to love suspense and adventure (usually with a love interest). I wanted to write what I enjoyed to read the most.
Has writing changed your life in any way?
I taught special education for 27 years before I retired to write full-time. My writing allowed me to do that and not go crazy. I have to have something to do. I couldn’t just retire and have nothing to do. My writing also allowed me to research a lot of different topics and visit many different places.
What Bible scripture has impacted your life the most?
I love the 23rd Psalm and what it tells us. God is with us through the worst. That is comforting to know.
What’s one of your favorite books you’ve read?
Amazonia by James Rollins (secular–pure suspense/adventure)
What’s the funniest thing you’ve ever done?
I once came out of a bathroom with toilet paper hanging out of my waistband of my pants. I turned ten shades of red.
Bio for Margaret Daley:
Margaret Daley, an award-winning author of eighty-three books, has been married for over forty years and is a firm believer in romance and love. When she isn’t traveling, she’s writing love stories, often with a suspense thread and corralling her three cats that think they rule her household. To find out more about Margaret visit her website at http://www.margaretdaley.com.
Where can readers learn more information about you?
WHOO-EEE!! I don’t know ‘bout y’all but Cookie was sweatin’ bullets at the rodeo watchin’ Cal ride that man-killer and then the thrill of the Bride Race! Why the ol’ coot even shed a tear durin’ the ceremony…Yes ya did ol’ man and don’t go blamin’ it on dust…
Now that we’ve spent some time followin’ in Cal and Josie’s tracks… Cal asks that y’all please back away now … And ya’ll have read (I hope) the final chapter of RACE TO MARRY let’s head to the Sheridan fairgrounds and get a look at the actual 1909 Wild West Show that planted a seed in my mind and grew into a story (that kinda smarts a bit, too).
The October 2, 1909, and October 5, 1909 issues of the Sheridan Daily Enterprise, reported on a Wild West Show and rodeo organized by Jim Jennings. The show ran from Thursday through Saturday, but it was so thrilling and drew such large crowds that a half-page ad in Saturday’s paper announced a special show was planned for Sunday. “IF YOU DON’T ATTEND IT WILL BE YOUR LOSS: THE SHOW COMMENCES AT 1:30!”
From the accounts in the newspaper, the participants were Sheridan locals or from neighboring communities. Events included a marathon, a hold up of the Deadwood stage, roping and tying exhibition, a relay foot race with four teams, a wild horse race, and a pony express ride; just to name a few.
One of the novelty races was the midnight race. “The most laughable event of the day.” Contestants started 200 yards from the wire and rode to the front of the grandstand. There they donned longshirts, mounted and raced around the track. For this race “A fast horse counted for little…It was the handy man with a shirt who won.”
For another race contestants were required to carry umbrellas. Then they rode to the wire where they “turn their coats wrong side out, light a cigar and ride with umbrellas raised.”
While the novelty races and trick exhibitions entertained the crowds, two events stole the show: bronco-busting and the race for the bride. Reports in the Enterprise, exhibit the bronco-riding held quite a few exhilarating moments. “Corkscrew, a wild outlaw, threw every man, Bud rich went down like the sound of a pile driver hitting the top of a wet log.”
“Clyde Brown on Aeroplane had a narrow escape in his broncho [sic] busting contest. He was thrown and his foot caught. People averted their heads for fear the crazed horse would stamp the man to death. But by a dexterous twist Brown himself got loose from his perilous position in safety.”
But the climax of the bronco-busting was the ride of Jim Jennings on the back of Corkscrew. Jennings was a Sheridan local with a ranch on Mead Creek, fourteen miles from town. He traveled with Buffalo Bill for four years, touring in Europe in 1903 and 1904. “He is one of the best riders in the state, and that is the same as saying the best in the world, for Wyoming horsemen have no superior.”
Corkscrew entered the rodeo a noted man-killer, sending a Buffalo, Wyoming man to the hospital for several weeks and severely injuring another cowboy just a year before. Jennings, having few equals as a rider, was game to ride Corkscrew and subdued the outlaw. However, Corkscrew had the final word sending Jennings to the ground with a hard thud on his back. “Jennings is carrying around a fractured rib as a memento of the occasion.”
The crowd went wild for the “Race for the Bride.” The bride’s name was given as Hazel Foster and Lillian Foster. However, it appears as Hazel Foster in most records and on Sheridan’s official website. The “grooms” name was Harry Lewis. Lewis participated in the pony express ride, bronco-busting and the wild horse race, as well as the bride race. While riding his bronc, he didn’t place and he came in second to Sage Collins in the wild horse race, but he would outride Sage to capture the bride.
The “lady and the cowboy catching her would be married on the spot. Judge Story, it was said, would perform the ceremony without cost.”
All we know of Hazel Foster was she hailed from Rock Creek, and was obviously an excellent horsewoman as she gave her pursuers a run for their money. Hazel was given a 200-yard head start and made good use of it not intending to get caught.
“Sage Collins, on his favorite roan, was after her, but whether or not he would have overtaken her will never be known. Harry Lewis started late and realizing that Sage could never be overtaken, he doubled back, intercepted the bride on the last quarter, and carried her to the grandstand,” much to the crowd’s delight. Harry Lewis won $50 and the hand of Hazel Foster.
Jennings show was such a success he decided to take it on the road. By the end of Sunday’s performance he already had a long list of applications from the Wyoming cowboys participating. Enough applications, in fact, that he planned to take the show to Billings, Montana the next week.
As for the bride and her cowboy, I am not sure I would ever want to know what happened after the race. I prefer to make up my own happily ever after ending for the couple.
So from two newspaper reports Cal and Josie’s story sprouted. I reduced the show to one day. Cal’s character emerged from Jim Jennings wild ride on Corkscrew and Harry Lewis’ daring capture of his own bride. Yes, Siree, it takes two men to make one of Cal. But it all started when I read about a young woman, Hazel Foster, agreeing to be the fox to seven Wyoming hounds. What would make her do such a thing? Excitement? Was she a spinster? Or did she need to save the family ranch? From these questions, and Hazel’s race, Josie Allison was born.
Hope y’all enjoyed RACE TO MARRY and the look behind the scenes!
SOURCES:
THE SHERIDAN DAILY ENTERPRISE. Saturday, October 2, 1909. Sheridan, Wyoming: pages 1 and 4.
THE SHERIDAN DAILY ENTERPRISE. Tuesday, October 5, 1909. Sheridan, Wyoming: pages 1 and 4.
Don’t know about y’all, but after kickin’ it up at the Mint, Cookie and me had to find a place to bed down. So, we beat our boots on over to the Sheridan Inn where it’s always in apple pie order.
Ya never know who yer gonna meet at the Inn, so keep a sharp eye. Who knows ya might even see Cal and Josie, at least in passin’. Those two are always on the move. I’ll be given the tour since Cookie’s still sawin’ on the logs; dang lazy ol’ coot sleepin’ off a rounder.
By 1892, the railroad was built as far as Sheridan, Wyoming and westward expansion was at the height of popularity. The railroad brought adventurous souls out West in search for a new life, as well as transporting agricultural goods, coal and cattle back East. Recognizing the advantages of the railroad in establishing the new frontier, and the need for lodging along the line the Sheridan Land Company, with the blessing of the Burlington and Missouri Railroad, undertook the ambitious task of building the Sheridan Inn.
The Inn’s design was inspired by its architect, Thomas Rogers Kimball’s visit to a Scottish hunting lodge and included 69 gabled windows. Construction of the Inn began in December of 1892 and was completed six months later. The Inn boasted the first running-water bathtubs and electric lights in town, and the first telephone line was connected to a downtown drugstore.
George and Lucy Canfield were the Inn’s first managers and were known for their extravagant dinners and gracious hospitality. George was responsible for acquiring the Inn’s furnishings; among them was the saloon’s bar. The bar was made from American oak with a mahogany countertop, and included front and back bars complete with wine cooler, liquor cabinet, and cigar case. If you didn’t get your fill at the Mint you can still belly up to this bar today, where Buffalo Bill Cody used to by rounds for the house. Make sure you order a Wyoming Slug a concoction of champagne and whiskey popular with the saloon patrons of the past.
Western legend Buffalo Bill Cody had many ties to the Sheridan Inn. In 1894, Cody became a Sheridan Land Company partner when he purchased the Inn’s furnishings and opened the W.F. Cody Transportation Company behind the Inn. The Canfields continued to manage the property, which now included a livery barn, stage line (part of Cody’s line from the Inn to Deadwood, SD), freighting service, and mail carrier. The Inn’s mud wagon ferried passengers back and forth from town about a mile away.
Cody auditioned local cowboys for his Wild West show from the comfort of the Inn’s sprawling porch. A few of the cowboy’s wives were featured in one of the Wild West show’s acts. The wives rode sidesaddle and, with their partners, performed a square dance on horseback. For many years the Inn sponsored a Wild West show as a fundraiser that also honored its extraordinary past.
Not all Cody’s visits to the Inn were pleasant. In 1902, Cody’s son-in-law, Horton Boal committed suicide in room 52 of the Inn. Then in 1905, Cody visited the Inn while seeking a divorce from his wife Louisa. The divorce was not granted and after that, Bill Cody didn’t visit the Inn until 1910 as plans for the town of Cody, Wyoming took much of his time.
Author Ernest Hemingway was another frequent guest at the Sheridan Inn. Hemingway wrote parts of A Farewell to Arms from a room on the third floor of the Sheridan Inn from August 3rd to 8th, 1928. Eventually, he found the activity at the Inn to be too distracting to his productivity, and he went in search of quieter locations. His search for peace ended at the Spear-O-Wigwam ranch in the Big Horn Mountains, where he finished the novel. Hemingway returned to the Inn several times in the 1930s to visit. (I told Cookie to keep it down, but the old codger was really tyin’ one on, and once he gets to whoopin’ it up well…)
Other notable visitors included, Bob Hope, Robert Taylor, Will Rogers and a number of U.S. Presidents.
The Inn hit hard times in the late 1930s as owner after owner passed through its doors struggling to maintain the building and operate the business. In 1965, the Sheridan community feared the worst that the Inn would have to be demolished. The Sheridan County Historical Society tried to save the Inn holding an auction, but proceeds fell short.
New York heiress, Neltje, purchased the Inn in 1967, and became known as the “woman who saved the Inn.” The saloon re-opened in 1968, and was followed shortly with the re-opening of the dining room, Ladies Parlor, and Wyoming Room. During Neltje’s two-decade run as the Inn’s owner the Inn’s place in Sheridan was revitalized. The Inn hosted many public events and dinners. Struggling to make money, the Inn’s doors closed again in 1986. Despite the purchase of the Inn by the Sheridan Heritage Center and plans to revive the historic building, the Sheridan Inn is once again facing financial difficulties and looking for someone (s) to step forth and resuscitate this Sheridan institution.
Cookie and me would sure hate to see the old girl go. We shared a great steak and even better bread puddin’ at the old Inn not too long ago.
But on a brighter note, and let me tell y’all the tongues are waggin’ about that rodeo cowboy Cal Renner upstairs in his room with local girl, Josie Allison! Cookie is blushin’ to beat the band! Me…I’m enjoyin’ this show ‘til the big rodeo this Saturday! Whoa, I think I just saw Ma and Pa Renner headin’ upstairs…
Whoo-eee, Yee-Haw, Yippee, Praise the Lord and Pass the Coffee, Cookie and me are back on the trail! Thanks for your patience while I’ve been up to my neck in work, and Cookie’s been up to his neck in no good! If ya missed us, thanks! If not…Well I won’t lie that stings a might.
If you’ve been followin’ the Saturday Serial RACE TO MARRY then y’all know it takes place in a real town Sheridan, Wyoming. I’ve also incorporated real places, faces and few events. SO we thought…okay I thought (Cookie turns a few shades of green over the attention Cal Renner is gettin’) I’d share a bit about the places, faces and events mentioned in previous installments or those comin’ ‘round the bend.
Today we’re visitin’ the MINT SALOON (now the Mint Bar)! I thought that might perk up Cookie…
Come on folks and meet me at the Mint…
The Mint Saloon opened its doors for business in 1907 right in the heart of downtown Sheridan, Wyoming. Negotiations for the purchase of the property began as far back as 1894 with a down payment of $500. When then Mint opened, ice was delivered in horse-drawn wagons to the saloon’s ice box and the bartenders wore long white aprons, serving drinks across a long mahogany bar. The Mint offered drink, gambling and women.
One of the “local celebrities” who entertained many a patron at the Mint was Rounder, the Airedale belonging to Charles “Dick” Marlow, owner of the Mint in 1911. Rounder was such a staple at the bar and in Sheridan, he was the subject of at least three articles in the Sheridan Post, including his obituary. According to a July 11, 1911 article in the Post, Rounder was by far “the brightest, keenest, wittiest, and altogether the most remarkable dog in Sheridan—perhaps in all the state of Wyoming.”
Rounder could be found any day in front of the Mint. “No, he isn’t a handsome dog—he runs more to brains than beauty—but that’s to his credit rather than otherwise.” Rounder was known as a civil dog, but he reserved all his enthusiasm for Dick Marlow. Reports say Rounder could take a message over the phone and carry out the orders given, or any other verbal request made by his master “as well as the average human being.”
Mr. Marlow states that Rounder got the telephone trick himself, through his habit of calling his wife over the phone and asking her to send the dog downtown with a letter or a package or in the performance of some errand or other. Before long, Rounder learned that the jingle of the telephone bell generally meant a call for him, and he would jump about and push Mrs. Marlow away from the phone when she went to answer it.
One day, hearing a commotion at the other end of the line, Mr. Marlow asked what the trouble was. Upon being told that it was Rounder, trying to get at the telephone, he told his wife to hold the receiver to the dog’s ear. Rounder recognized the voice, and wagging his tail in delight, licked the instrument which talked like his master. Since then he has taken many orders over the telephone and one of his chief pleasures is a chat over the wire.
A few of the tricks reported include a game of hide and seek.
Mr. Marlow blindfolded himself – or rather, tied the handkerchief around his head, being careful not to entirely over his eyes.
“No you go and hide it.” Rounder was told.
Taking the wallet in his mouth the dog started back toward the rear, “Don’t leave it there, I can see you.” Mr. Marlow called as the dog turned the first corer and was about to lay it down. So the dog went on back, out of sight and sound, and shortly returned, looking wise as an owl. Mr. Marlow stooped down and Rounder took the blindfold in his teeth and pulled it off, then lay down on the floor as though for a long nap, insinuating by his actions that his master could never find it where he had hidden it.
Mr. Marlow looked all about, as though having a hard time finding the wallet. Locating it at last, he came out to the front room with it in his hand.
“I found it, Rounder,” he said, and the dog’s eyes sparkled and snapped as if in appreciation of his little joke.
Dick Marlow would only have to state that it was cold in the room and Rounder would kick the door closed with a slam. Rounder was so well known many dogs were named after him. Marlow and Rounder left Wyoming for California in 1913; just one of the changes on the horizon for the Mint.
In 1919, Prohibition but a halt to the social gatherings at the Mint…well sort of. The front of the building became a dress shop, real estate office, and then the Mint Cigar Company and Soda Shop, “while in the back was one of the coziest little bottle joints around” for those who disagreed with the 18th Amendment and Volstead Act.
When Prohibition was repealed in 1933, the owners Archie Wilson and his partner, Robert J. Thirwell reopened the bar. They obtained their liquor license on March 30, 1935 and built on to the back of the building making room for slot machines, roulette wheels, and gaming tables. These changes accommodated a thriving gambling clientele in the back room and newly legal drinkers in the front.
Since 1907 and continuing even through Prohibition the Mint bar has been a gathering place to talk shop about ranching, hunting, artisan work and business. The doors are open to cowboys, ranchers, and dudes to come in socialize and tip back a cold one. This tradition continues today with the catch phrase “Meet you at the Mint,” being used by patrons far and wide.
The Mint received a complete overhaul in the late 1940’s. The rustic style and red cedar bar that remains today replaced the old stamped tin ceilings and mahogany bar. Cedar shingle brands adorn the walls of the Mint and are the work of L.L. McVean who owned the bar from 1943-1974. “Mac took a soldiering iron, an electric needle, and a brand book one day and started to work; as a result, the walls of the Mint are an encyclopedia of over 9000 slabs of local brands.” Much of the wild game adorning the bar was a result of Mac and local entrepreneur Sam Mavrakis’ trip to the Yukon in the 1950’s. “Those two Dall sheep,” Sam pointed to some of the trophy heads on the wall of the Mint, in a 1985 interview. “Three grizzlies – we made rugs out them – those two caribou, a moose, that wolverine, that black wolf. In 18 days we got all those.”
Bud Wolfe, who bartended at the Mint from 1945-1979, was interviewed in 1985. He remembered his favorite customers were the old rodeo cowboys from “back when rodeoing meant long thirsty drives between towns and the cowboys stayed in one place longer than an eight-second bull ride. I used to know so many of them guys…” Bud recalls. “…Shawn Davis, the Linderman boys, J.D. McKenna, Fred Lewis. But they don’t hang around anymore, the professionals. They draw their stock, they fly in, they use their stock and by then they’re headed down to Cheyenne.”
But the Mint remains. A landmark and a place where the grandchildren and great- grandchildren of those who built, cultivated, ranched, farmed and lived in Sheridan go to toss a cold one back and catch up on all the news. “And it’s one of the friendliest places in town.” Sam Mavrakis said in 1985. “I came in here and kissed three girls right away.”
The Mint is so well-known that when Queen Elizabeth visited Sheridan in 1985 there was a rumor she would visit the Mint. While the Queen didn’t make it inside the bar a wire service photograph, sent throughout the country, showed a beaming Queen Elizabeth with the Mint’s neon cowboy glowing in the background.
So there ya have it folks a brief overview of the saloon where Cal was tossin’ a few back before things went South!
Cookie! Stop jawin’ with the cowpokes and tellin’ tales taller than the Big Horns, we’ve got places to go!
Thank y’all for comin’ on over to the campfire! You’ve probably been wonderin’ about Cookie and me…then again maybe not! We’ve been on a break, but don’t fret we’ll be back on the trail soon. I’ve been knee deep in writin’ and Cookie has been knee deep in…well y’all know! So please don’t give up on us and keep checkin’ back! In the meantime enjoy the Saturday story RACE TO MARRY!
We sure do appreciate y’all hangin’ in there with us!
Howdy, Folks!! It’s a beautiful day on the trail! We’re movin’ out of the darker side of Wyomin’s past…well… ‘cause frankly Cookie and me were gettin’ a might depressed. Cookie’s stew has never been particularly savory, but we were gettin’ sour stomach!
So today we’re visitin’ with one of Wyomin’s more colorful characters, Caroline Lockhart! I have to tell ya outta all the people we’ve met on the trail Ms. Lockhart is a favorite for Cookie and me! Now we’re particularly fit to be tied ‘cause Ms. Lockhart is Wyomin’s first woman author and a founder of the Cody Stampede! A woman who writes AND is involved with rodeo…Can I be her when I grow up?!
“Wyoming Girl’s First Novel is Successful…Equals Owen Wister in Thrilling Western Story!” (And no this isn’t about yours truly…yet) Announced the Cheyenne State Leader on March 11, 1911. “Not since the publication of The Virginian has so powerful a cowboy story been told as Miss Caroline Lockhart’s novel Me—Smith.”
Lockhart, 1900 Photo courtesy American Heritage Center, #ah003129
Born in Illinois, Caroline Lockhart spent fifteen years as a newspaper reporter in the East. But in 1904, she turned her thoughts to writing a novel and her feet to the West she always admired. When she stepped off the train, the thirty-three year old cut a fine figure with gold-burnished hair that caught the sun and the eye of many a cowboy. What caught Caroline’s eye was the town of Cody, Wyoming and the diverse peoples of the West; sheepherders, cowboys, Indians and even dudes from the East. The town Caroline first laid eyes on had 210 inhabitants and 14 saloons, “none too many for such an arid landscape,” according to Caroline.
Though not well-known today, during the 1920s, Lockhart reached her goal of becoming “the best known woman west of the Mississippi.” Her novels The Fighting Shepherdess and The Man from the Bitter Roots had been made into major motion pictures, and she had recently finished a stint as a celebrity journalist at the Denver Post. The Park County Enterprise reported on her trip to Los Angeles. “Los Angeles, the mecca of artists and authors has a famous visitor this week in Caroline Lockhart who wrote The Fighting Shepherdess and other best sellers of the day. Miss Lockhart’s first visit upon her arrival was to the Louis B. Mayer studio.” There she met with Douglas Fairbanks regarding the adaptation of her nearly completed novel The Dude Wrangler.
Lockhart had a passion for the Old West; for the open-range cattle ranches before they were fenced and turned to dry-land farming, for the old characters who fought and scraped and survived the harsh land, and she loved, with a passion, horses. Her passions matched those of her contemporaries in Western novelists, such as Owen Wister and Zane Grey. But unlike other writers, Lockhart lived fulltime in the West. Therefore, her lifestyle brought authenticity to her work, not the depictions of what Easterners wanted the West to be. Also, Caroline set her stories during the 20th Century, unlike other authors who set their tales in the Old West. She wanted Wyoming to recognize its place in the present, and not fade into the past like the Midwestern frontier in the light and luxuries brought by the industrialization of the 20th Century. Wyoming’s heritage was dying on the altar of railroads, electricity, and automobiles. Who needed horses? Why would anyone care about the American Indians? Only a small tip of the hat should be given to men such as Buffalo Bill Cody, whose legendary status was diminished by divorce and financial ruin.
Lockhart’s novels breathed life back into Western culture. “Three cheers and a tiger for Caroline Lockhart. She is our only live, living author. What Caroline doesn’t know about Wyoming and Wyoming folks isn’t much. She can make a cavalier out of a sheepherder and a courtly gentleman from the crudest cowpuncher,” a Wyoming newspaper reported.
Almost 50 years old when her novels reached their peak, Lockhart appeared decades younger and “was one hell-of-a-good-lookin’ woman” according to one of her cowboy friends. And Caroline Lockhart had many cowboy friends. Although she never married, she juggled multiple boyfriends offending many of the more conservative citizens of Cody. Along with her long line of lovers, Codyites were fanning themselves over Lockhart’s penchant for drinking at a time three-quarters of the town voted for Prohibition. Lockhart, on the other hand, threw lavish parties in her Cody home where there was no lack of the demon liquor. In 1921, The State Tribune of Cheyenne published Lockhart’s letter to J.D. Woodruff in Shoshoni supporting his stand against Prohibition. “Mr. Woodruff: I have finished reading your letter to Governor Brooks printed in the Tribune, and I am impelled to write and congratulate you upon your common sense and courage. It sounds like Colonel Henry Watterson—a sane voice in the mob always. What you say finds an echo in the heart of every person who is not a hopeless bigot…”
Lockhart Photo courtesy American Heritage Center, #ah002656
Lockhart was, to say the least, a controversial figure, but she was a woman with “passion, gumption, and money to get things done.” One thing she wanted to see done was an event to honor the Old West. So, on April 20, 1920 the bestselling novelist with a flair for publicity, gathered with other leading citizens of Cody; Ernest J. Goppert, Sr., an ambitious young attorney; Irving H. Larom, a Princeton-education owner of a prominent dude ranch; Sid Eldred, editor of the Park County Enterprise, the newspaper founded by Buffalo Bill Cody; and Clarence Williams and William Loewar, both men helped run the town’s small Fourth of July celebration. All agreed they wanted more than just a Fourth of July party, more than a rodeo and street dance. They wanted an event to bring back the Old West; an event to entertain and bring in tourists driving through the newly opened road to Yellowstone National Park.
The citizens who met in Lockhart’s house, and enjoyed her liquor, decided they would call this event “The Cody Stampede.” Lockhart persuaded them not to include the word “rodeo” in the title as it “sounded like a dude word and besides we did not know how to pronounce it.” Lockhart was elected the organization’s president. They sought to attract the finest contestants, which included one of Lockhart’s cowboy friends, champion bulldogger Pinky Gist.
The week after the meeting, Lockhart purchased, with four partners, the Enterprise. She took control of the newspaper and used it to promote the Stampede. Her Enterprise advertised such exciting news as: Toggery Bill securing “the Red Lodge Finnish orchestra and the only Mary Quilico for the Cody Stampede.” And when Miles City, Montana chose the same dates for their rodeo, Lockhart and company stood firm believing “if necessary, there are enough riders and horses in the surrounding country to furnish a good program without outside help. Bronco riders and Grand Opera stars, we have learned from experience, have similar temperments [sic], and while some of the outside riders had their growl because they did not get in on the money we believe that a good percentage of them will come back and make another try for it.”
Lockhart was correct and many top riders returned to Cody. The Stampede grew under Lockhart’s presidency. At fundraising balls Caroline invited members of the Crow tribe to appear in traditional dress, renewing a fascination for the American Indians rarely seen in Cody except by invitation. With Lockhart’s encouragement, fascination expanded to other aspects of the frontier. Lockhart argued Wyoming should capitalize on its unique cowboy heritage, rather than letting the state develop into a place like anywhere else. Today the Stampede stands among the top rodeos with Cheyenne Frontier Days and the Pendleton (Oregon) Roundup.
Buffalo Bill Cody Statue Photo courtesy of Wikipedia
Promoting Wyoming’s legacy became her passion. She next, proposed a gigantic statue of Buffalo Bill to be sculpted by Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney, one of the country’s most famous artists. By then the people of Cody would support any suggestion their local author made, but the town could not afford Whitney. Lockhart proceeded to pester the sculptor until Whitney agreed to both sculpt the statue and raise the required funds. Whitney campaigned for funds amongst New York City’s wealthiest classes, establishing Buffalo Bill’s nationwide posthumous reputation.
After a few years, Lockhart tired of the day-to-day frustrations of the newspaper and guiding the Stampede. She believed local merchants never contributed all they could to an event that brought them so much business. She bristled at the incompetence of her co-owners at the newspaper, and her unpopular political positions made enemies and dampened profits.
Lockhart cabin Photo courtesy of NPS
In 1925, Caroline decided instead of promoting the Old West lifestyle she loved so much, she would embrace it and she purchased her own homestead. She purchased a small 160 acre homestead, the L/♥, north of Lovell, Wyoming. She added land through purchase, homesteading, and leases until she controlled over 6,034 acres. From the owners she inherited a two-room cabin, a few run-down sheds, and 20 acres of cultivated ground. Lockhart added onto and landscaped the area around the cabin with irises, hollyhocks, cottonwood trees, and stone pathways. She constructed fences, corrals, and irrigation systems as well as adding 15 new structures.
Life on the L/♥ ranch was self-sufficient. Potatoes, apples, onions, carrots, dried beans and peas, along with beef, pork, and wild game were stored in the powerhouse/storage building. Milk, butter, and eggs went to the spring house for chilling. In 1935, three loads of Lockhart steers topped the market in Omaha, granting Lockhart her dream of becoming a Cattle Queen.
In 1952, Caroline decided she and her then-boyfriend were too old to continue running the ranch. Her eyesight was failing and ranch life had become too hard. She moved back to Cody, and lived the rest of her life in obscurity. Her only foray into society was inviting neighborhood children over to watch “Hopalong Cassidy,” on the only television in town. A show based on novels that in 1910 were considered inferior to her works.
Caroline Lockhart died on July 25, 1962. There was no funeral as she had requested her ashes be scattered over “the most convenient peak.”
A woman who not only loved Wyoming and the West, but did all in her power to see its legacy preserved! I’m a bit ashamed to admit that as a writer and Wyomingite the first I heard of this amazing woman was when I was diggin’ around for blog material.
But Cookie and me made fast tracks to meet up with Ms. Lockhart on the trail, some cause of her enduring story and some cause after all our time on the dark side of the trail Cookie needed a couple fingers of whiskey and with Prohibition and all Caroline was the only one servin’ the stuff!
We hope y’all enjoyed readin’ about this lady as much as we enjoyed diggin’ through newspapers and articles to meet her. My mind’s already turnin’ and twistin’ about a heroine based on the woman.
See y’all on the bright side of the trail!
SOURCES:
Cheyenne State Leader, no 136. Cheyenne, Wyoming. March 11, 1911, page 5.
Wyoming State Tribune, no. 93. Cheyenne, Wyoming. April 14, 1921, page 1.
Park County Enterprise, no. 32. Cody, Wyoming. March 17, 1920, page 1.
Wyoming State Tribune, no. 169. Cheyenne, Wyoming. June 30, 1921 [Morning edition], page 6.
Park County Enterprise, no. 36. Cody, Wyoming. April 13, 1921, page 1.
Please won’t you all come over to the campfire and join Mr. Cookie and me in a refreshing beverage, or perhaps finger sandwich? *swoops into a deep curtsey and sweeps arm in grand gesture pointing to the campfire*
Yeah, I know Cookie, that ain’t gonna work! But I tried…So YEEEE-HAW, Folks!! Come on over and grab yerself some Arbuckle’s and a plate of grub!! Cookie and me, we tried real hard…for about thirty seconds…to put on some airs ‘cause today ‘round the campfire Cindy Nord, good FB friend and debut novelist, brought with her Colonel Reece Cutteridge, yes sir and ma’am a bonafide Yankee colonel!! A man in uniform…commence with the wolf calls gals ‘cause this man is H-O-T and not just ‘cause he’s forced to wear that darned wool uniform in the heat of August in Virginia. No, Siree, Reece would cause the vapors in nothin’ but what the good Lord…well let’s not even go down that trail or Cookie will have to use the smellin’ salts to revive us all!
**runs hand over Reece’s wool jacket covering a nice broad chest** “Sorry, I seem to have drooled a bit on yer fine uniform” **keeps runnin’ hand over the jacket long after the stain is gone. A whirlwind of satin plops down between me and the Colonel**
**Cindy laughs behind the ever present sandalwood fan**
**I glare at Cindy and the pile of satin now between me and Reece** Now normally only the hero and author swing by to share a cup and jaw, but today I’m pickin’ Cookie’s jaw off the ground cause Emaline McDaniels a spitfire of a Southern belle has graced our presence…mostly cause I couldn’t keep her away…an army couldn’t keep her away…
Folks we’ve got so much goin’ on ‘round the campfire today y’all better keep sharp, or you’ll miss somethin’!
Cindy, when she’s not causin’ dust storms flutterin’ her sandalwood fans and makin’ eyes at my cook, is an expert on Victorian fashion and she’s kindly supplied a bit of information on pantalettes!! Yep, folks today we’re mentionin’ the unmentionable!! Cookie, get yer doggone eyes off the split-crotch pantalettes!!
AND Cindy provided an excerpt from NO GREATER GLORY! If y’all can read the excerpt and not run off and snatch up a copy…well all I can say is good luck with that! When this lady comes to a shindig, she comes prepared!!
AND if’n I can tear Cookie away from those split-crotch thingmebobs, I’ll be puttin’ the names of those who take the time to leave a comment in his hat and we’ll giveaway an ebook (kindle or nook) copy of NO GREATER GLORY to one lucky commenter…
Let’s this soiree started folks, or we’re gonna run out of daylight! So let me proudly introduce y’all to Colonel Reece Cutteridge and the widow Mrs. Emaline McDaniels…
Amid the carnage of war, he commandeers far more than just her home.
Widowed plantation owner Emaline McDaniels has struggled to hold on to her late husband’s dreams. Despite the responsibilities resting on her shoulders, she’ll not let anyone wrest away what’s left of her way of life—particularly a Federal officer who wants to set up his regiment’s winter encampment on her land. With a defiance born of desperation, she defends her home as though it were the child she never had…and no mother gives up her child without a fight.
Despite the brazen wisp of a woman pointing a gun at his head, Colonel Reece Cutteridge has his orders. Requisition Shapinsay—and its valuable livestock—for his regiment’s use, and pay her with Union vouchers. He never expected her fierce determination, then her concern for his wounded, to upend his heart—and possibly his career.
As the Army of the Potomac goes dormant for the winter, battle lines are drawn inside the mansion. Yet just as their clash of wills shifts to forbidden passion, the tides of war sweep Reece away. And now their most desperate battle is to survive the bloody conflict in Virginia with their lives—and their love—intact.
KIRSTEN’S THOUGHTS: It has been a long time since I’ve read a love story so powerful and endearing as Cindy Nord’s, NO GREATER GLORY! I never believed there would be another story set during the American Civil War that reached my heart and hit me at such a gut level (forgive my vulgarity Emaline) as John Jakes’ NORTH AND SOUTH (the book that started a pre-teen down a path eventually focusing on Civil War history in college and graduate school), but NO GREATER GLORY meets and in some ways far exceeds my visceral reaction to NORTH AND SOUTH.
Cindy breathes life into not only her fictional characters, but into the historical figures and into the very history itself. Her battle scenes breath and roar like a dragon unleashed on the page, and the scenes between Reece and Emaline cut and bleed like an open wound as they try to deny their love and then soothe like a balm as they accept that while on opposite sides of a war, they will never be enemies. And though I’ve visited many Civil War battlefields and plantations, and live just down the road from most, it was Cindy’s writing that placed me smack in the middle of the sights, sounds, smells, and emotions of a nation torn apart by a war that severed and united a country just as it severed then united Emaline and Reece. From muddy battlefields, and field hospitals, to the lemon oil used to shine the wood at Shapinsay Plantation house, you are there with the characters through rich, historically accurate details.
Reece enters the scene a natural leader among men, and there is no doubt he is in command at all times, except where his heart is concerned when it comes to Emaline. His rugged exterior, while showing tenderness the only way a soldier during wartime can, by seeing to her safety, melts my heart even now. The heartbreak that drove him to war keeps Reece enslaved to the past.
Emaline is a brave, determined lady, but dragged down with the chains of responsibility and unwavering in her desire to protect the only child she believes she will ever have, her plantation. Emaline has known respect and admiration, but she has never really known love and acceptance…Until Reece.
I give NO GREATER GLORY my highest recommendation. You do not want to miss these two wonderful, sad, proud people find the true freedom no President can proclaim (even one as great as Lincoln) but only love can bring! OH, and you’ll LOVE Jackson and Brennen, too, I’m just sayin’!
NOW here’s a peek at what I’m talkin’ about! (The picture is the cover to the Audio version of NO GREATER GLORY!! And that’s Cindy’s real life hero Tom leading the charge across the cover!! )
NO GREATER GLORY
October 1862
Seven miles west of Falmouth, Virginia
A bitter wind slammed through the tattered countryside, sucking warmth from the morning. Emaline McDaniels rocked back in the saddle when she heard the shout. She glanced over her shoulder and her eyes widened. Across the fields of ragged tobacco, her farrier rode toward her at breakneck speed. Lines of alarm carved their way across the old man’s ebony face.
Emaline spurred her horse around to meet him. “What’s wrong?”
Tacker pointed a gnarled finger eastward. “Yankees, Miz Emaline! Coming up da road from Falmouth!”
“Yankees?” Her heart lurched against her ribs. She’d heard of their thievery, the fires and destruction left in their wake. Teeth-gritting determination to save her home flashed through her. She leaned sideways, gripping his work-worn sleeve. “Are you sure they’re not the home guard?”
“No, ma’am. I seen ’em, dey’s blue riders, for sure. Hundreds of ’em.”
Two workers moved closer to listen to the exchange, and the farrier acknowledged them with a quick nod.
“Everyone back to the cabins,” Emaline snapped, sinking into the saddle. “And use the wagon road along the river. It’ll be safer.”
“Ain’t you comin’ with us?”
“No. Now move along quickly, all of you. And keep out of sight.” She flicked the reins and her horse headed straight across the fields toward the red-brick mansion that hugged the far edge of the horizon.
The spongy ground beneath the animal’s hooves churned into clods of flying mud. Aside from a few skirmishes nearby, the war had politely stayed east along the Old Plank Road around Fredericksburg.
Her mare crested the small hillock near the main house, and Emaline jerked back on the leather reins. Off to her far right, a column of cavalrymen numbering into the hundreds approached. The dust cloud stirred up by their horses draped in a heavy haze across the late-morning air. In numbed fascination, she stared at the pulsing line of blue-coated soldiers, a slithering serpent of destruction a quarter of a mile long.
Waves of nausea welled up from her belly.
“Oh my God…” she whispered. She dug her boot heels into the mare’s sides and the nimble sorrel sprang into another strong gallop. Praying she’d go unnoticed, Emaline leaned low, her thoughts racing faster than the horse. What do they want? Why are they here?
Her fingers curled into the coarse mane as seconds flew past. At last, she reached the back entrance of the mansion. Quickly dismounting, she smacked the beast’s sweaty flank to send it toward the stable then spun to meet the grim expression fixed upon the face of the old woman who waited for her at the bottom of the steps. “I need Benjamin’s rifle!”
“Everythin’s right dere, Miz Emaline. Right where you’d want it.” She shifted sideways and pointed to the .54 caliber Hawkins, leather cartridge box and powder flask lying across the riser like sentinels ready for battle. “Tacker told me ’bout the Yankees afore he rode out to find you.”
“Bless you, Euley.” Emaline swept up the expensive, custom-made hunting rifle her late husband treasured. The flask followed and she tumbled black crystals down the rifle’s long muzzle. A moment later, the metal rod clanked down inside the barrel to force a lead ball home.
She’d heard so many stories of the bluecoats’ cruelty. What if they came to kill us? The ramrod fell to the ground. With a display of courage she did not feel, Emaline heaved the weapon into her arms, swept past the old servant, and took the wooden steps two at a time.
There was no time left for what ifs.
“You stay out of sight now, Euley. I mean it.” The door banged shut behind Emaline as she disappeared into the house.
Each determined footfall through the mansion brought her closer and closer to the possibility of yet another change in her life. She eased open the front door and peered out across Shapinsay’s sweeping lawns. Dust clogged the air and sent another shiver skittering up her spine. She moved out onto the wide veranda, and with each step taken, her heart hammered in her chest. Five strides later, Emaline stopped at the main steps and centered herself between two massive Corinthian columns.
She squared her shoulders. She lifted her chin. She’d fought against heartbreak every day for three years since her husband’s death. She’d fought the constant fear of losing her beloved brother in battle. She fought against the effects of this foolhardy war that sent all but two of her field hands fleeing. If she could endure all that plus operate this plantation all alone to keep Benjamin’s dreams alive, then surely, this too, she could fight.
And the loaded weapon? Well, it was for her fortitude only.
She knew she couldn’t shoot them all.
“Please, don’t turn in,” she mumbled, but the supplication withered on her lips when the front of the long column halted near the fieldstone gateposts at the far end of the lane. Three cavalrymen turned toward her then approached in a steadfast, orderly fashion.
Her gaze skimmed over the first soldier holding a wooden staff, a swallow-tailed scrap of flag near its top whipping in the breeze. The diminutive silk bore an embroidered gold star surrounded by a laurel wreath, the words, US Cavalry-6th Ohio, stitched beneath. Emaline disregarded the second cavalryman and centered her attention directly upon the officer.
The man sat his horse as if he’d been born in the saddle, his weight distributed evenly across the leather. A dark slouch hat covered sable hair that fell well beyond the collar of his coat. Epaulets graced both broad shoulders, emphasizing his commanding look. A lifetime spent in the sun and saddle added a rugged cast to his sharp, even features.
An overwhelming ache throbbed behind her eyes. What if she had to shoot him?
Or worse—what if she couldn’t?
The officer reined his horse to a stop beside the front steps. His eyes, long-lashed and as brown as a bay stallion’s, caught and held hers. Though he appeared relaxed, Emaline sensed a latent fury roiling just beneath the surface of his calm.
Her hands weakened on the rifle and she leaned forward, a hair’s breadth, unwillingly sucked into his masculinity as night sucked into day. Inhaling deeply, she hoisted the Hawkins to her shoulder, aiming it at his chest. Obviously, in command, he would receive her lone bullet should he not heed her words. “Get off my land!”
Cindy’s bio: A member of numerous writing groups, Cindy’s work has finaled or won countless times, including the prestigious Romance Writers of America National Golden Heart Contest. A luscious blend of history and romance, her stories meld both genres around fast-paced action and emotionally driven characters. Indeed….true love awaits you in the writings of Cindy Nord
WHOO-EEE!! But don’t go yet, although I know y’ave got a bur to get yerself a copy! But you DO NOT want to miss the following discussion on…hm umm…underdrawers…!!!
Victorian Unmentionables…Oh My!
1865 pantalettes
Today we call them panties, underwear, or ladies briefs. Even a few brave souls, might wear and call them thong. But in the 1860’s, modesty was foremost. And the proper ladies of the era might call these items her…‘unmentionables” if in a crowd, but behind fluttering fans she’d address them by the name they actually were: split or crotchless pantalettes (two separate tubes of material joined to a band only at the waist, the crotch left open for hygienic reasons). When we say we’re wearing a ‘pair of panties’– THIS is where that saying derived.
Men’s long drawers courtesy employees.oneonta.edu
Originating from France in the early 19th century, the feminine pantalettes were designed after men’s leggings or long drawers. Up to this time, ladies did not wear anything other than a long chemise or shift. The acceptance by females of these pantelettes soon spread to Britain and quickly swept across the pond to America.
pantelettes 1866 courtesy Metropolitan Museum
The pantalettes of an 1860’s woman were loose trouser-like pieces made mostly from white linen or silk and decorated with tucks, lace, and cutwork or broderie anglaise. Also called drawers (so stated because the undergarment was ‘drawn on’), they were worn mid calf-length with an open leg and the hems were decorated with scallops or elegant embroidery. Secured at the waist with a tie or a back button closure, these garments were always part of the wardrobe and worn for decency’s sake as ladies limbs at the time were never exposed. And the split-crotch made going to the “necessary” a whole lot easier.
Godey’s Lady’s Book pattern
Beginning as simple fashions of the early 1800’s, by the Mid-Victorian era, pantalettes had become an exquisite work of art. Women found fashion inspiration and patterns from Godey’s Lady’s Book and Petterson’s — and both popular periodicals featured new looks each month. Pantalettes patterns were no exception, and issues during this time-period included patterns with measurements, and an illustration of the completed garment.
Details at bottom of piece courtesy abitiantichi.it
By the end of the 1860’s decade, however, pantalettes legs were no longer separate tubes attach to a simple band. The split-crotch opening disappeared into one complete garment seamed into one piece, most likely joined to prevent chafing caused by damp skin rubbing together. And soon thereafter the length of the garment rose from mid-shin into gathers just below the knee.
1869 split-crotch pantalettes courtesy of mum.org
There were numerous layers of undergarments worn by a properly dressed 1860’s Victorian lady. But by far the most important piece of clothing other than the corset (which so defined a woman’s silhouette of that era) was the pantalettes.
Girls with pantalettes showing Godey’s Ladies Book, 1855
Cookie!! Dagnabbit, yer embarrasin’ me in front of the Colonel, starin’ at those bloomers!! And don’t be askin’ Emaline for a close-up look! Though if Reece was so inclined…
Anywho folks, this shindig is just startin’ and the fun is fixin’ to last all day!! So, come on over and jaw a bit, or swoon at the Colonel’s feet! Feel free to ask Cindy about pantelettes! (I defer all bloomer questions to her)! Do you like Civil War novels? What color does your hero usually don (I have to admit the couple I’ve written about wear the Gray)? What’s your favorite Civil War novel, if ya have one…other than NO GREATER GLORY, of course!! Heck talk about anythin’! It’s a free country…now!
