From the iris notes mom and Grandma Lillie kept, 1930s to ’40s.
#3 in their alphabetical list. More info here: 1920s iris, Ambassadeur
I wonder if this 1981 photo shows it, in mom’s garden, on the right, the two-toned reddish purple.
Iris diary: 2. Alta California
From the iris notes mom and Grandma Lillie kept, 1930s to ’40s.
2. Alta California
Gran wrote, “48-in bronzy yellow,” in 1939.
From Carl Salbach’s catalog for 1936: “First in the series of Sydney B. Mitchell triumphs in breeding for yellows, Alta California still holds its place as one of the most worth-while and sensational iris grown. It is tallest of all the new yellow iris and its branching qualifies it for “A” rating either as an individual stalk or as mass bloom.”
From Cooley’s Gardens catalog for 1937: “Standards of clear yellow, falls of deep yellow, faintly bronzed. One of the tallest of all irises, very popular among the new yellows, a reliable performer in Minnesota as well as New England and California. The large blossoms are of firm smooth texture, produced on splendid stems.”
Hybridized by Mohr–Mitchell in 1931.
More about family iris… 1. Albatross
I didn’t really know how many, many iris varieties mom and her mom had raised until after mom died. I’m starting an alphabetic posting of the names I have found, so you can see what they were up to in the 1930s and ’40s.
1. Albatross (“large white” as described by LBD—that’s grandma, Lillie Buswell Davie, not ‘little black dress’…)
TB 1922 Perry: Lillie says, “pale lavender, falls veined and tipped darker”
Note: TB = tall bearded; Perry = Perry Plant Co.
This is the link to the earliest Perry catalog I have found; it mentions “Albatross,” but there are no photos. Have yet to find a photo of this variety.
1913, M.L.D.B. in Sioux Falls gets a poignant letter from her Montana sis
As I go through letters saved by members of my family over the generations, I am struck by what a deeply lonely life — not merely solitary — many of them led. They were far from where they grew up, a many-days-journey from their folks and their siblings, and visitors were few, indeed.
The letter below came to my great-grandmother in Sioux Falls from her younger sister Cecelia, who lived near Big Timber, Montana. She talks about her three adult children, Jim, Tom, and Mary.
Cecelia’s life is hard, she rarely sees other people. One day, she walks up the mountain on a day-long trek, to see the scenery that’s not visible from her little place.
Years later, someone wrote ‘mountain scenery’ on the envelope (probably my grandmother’s sister) to make sure the letter was saved.
Big Timber
August 18, 1913
My Dear Sister Mame,
I just received your letter of the 13th and was glad to hear from you. I am glad you had a chance to see the sisters. Did you see Julia too, and Mrs. Hussey, and Mrs. Dr. Hobbie?
If you write to sister Alice, tell her to be sure to come and see me. I am still in Big Timber, and tell her the stage comes up the Boulder almost at our house, up as far as L.E. Smoot, and get off the stage at his place, and he will bring her up the rest of the way. It is about two miles from his place. I would love to see her. Does she live in Independence? When she is at home I wish you could come to see me. I have never had but one relative come to see me since I came out to this country, and how very pleased I was to see him.
Yes, there was two coming to see us, but I did not see but one, and that was Willie. Then Burt Stimson came and got as far as Merrill in an automobile, and it broke down when he got that far, and the man went back to Columbus after another machine, and they got to the foot of the hills and broke down again. And as it happened, Jim went down to Merrill for the mail and met them on the road. And so Jim and Tom saw their cousin, but Mary and I did not.
I have not moved down on the Ranch, and I do not know when I will go back if ever. I do not want to stay alone, as long as Jim lives at this station, I suppose I will stay with him.
It is just 12 o’clock and I have not had any breakfast yet. I went out and fed the chickens and puppies. We have 6 and their mother has only 3 places for them to eat, and she kept them in 2 nests all the time until now they begin to run around a little, and they get so hungry and cry, so I took some canned milk and water and sugar out to them and how they did lick it up, and only 3 weeks old.
I will send you the lock of hair I forgot to put in my last letter to you. Will pin it fast and it will sure not be forgotten. Emma Pitcher writes for me to come out to see her but I cannot go, although I would like to. They moved in town and she is keeping a baker shop.
Mary my daughter has tried to get me to come down to see her. She tells me my yard does look fine with all the different flowers and vines around the house, but Jim is away so much that I cannot go and leave all my chickens to starve. He is gone now, and has been for more than a week, and expects to be away for a couple of weeks yet.
I do not know how this letter will be sent. Sometimes out neighbor goes by, and if I do not forget, will send it by him.
You spoke of it being so hot. It is not hot here. We have had snow just on the other side of Black Butte and some frost right here. Had frost last night, the ground was all white this morning when I got up.
Have you canned any fruit yet? I have 48 quarts put up so far, 4 quarts of serviceberries, 10 quarts of currents, and the rest are gooseberries. I canned them, for Jim does not care much for jellies and I do not either, and besides, down in Mary’s cellar at Reed is the fruit I put up last summer, over 200 pounds of sugar it took, and it is most all jelly, and Jim did not think it would pay to bring it up here, for so many might get broken.
I tell you it gets pretty lonesome for me when sometimes I do not see anyone to speak to for weeks at time. And no chance to go anywhere, for Jim has to have all his horses off to work, or they run away down to Reed when he leaves them, for the fence is not entirely finished.
How are all your family? I wish some of your girls could come to see me.
August 19
Dear sister,
After starting your letter yesterday, I got so lonely I could not finish the letter, so I walked outdoors and went down the road a ways, and I climbed under the fence and started up a canyon for the top of Black Butte, the highest one right around here. I walked for four hours, that is climbing up all the time, and it seemed at first the sun would melt me. I tried to keep out from under the trees as much as I could on account of the flies flying around my head. It made me so nervous and tired, I would stop to rest every little while and look back. I could see Big Timber, 11 miles down the valley, then I could see away to the north the crazy mountains. And the top of the mountains was covered with a black cloud, and there it stayed for a long time. But after a while, the wind blew them away, and how beautiful it did look. Away up towards the top the canyons were filled with snow and ice, and the ice glittered in the sun. And lower down the mountain, the forest looked black, and the nearer the bottom the mountain it grew, it looked blue. Then to the southwest was the valley of the Boulder River, and wheat fields looked like gold, and there were hundreds of acres of alfalfa growing so green. And in the places the river showed, it was like a ribbon of silver. You could not see it, only in places, for there was high hills between the mountains, run in streaks like.
Well, I finally got to the top and looked down on the other side, and there was ridge after ridge of high mountains and deep valleys, and such splendid large trees. Some fine Norway spruce, and forgot what the other kinds are called. And such beautiful rocks run along the top of the ridge, looked as if it had been thrown up there like a wall for protection.
And all along the crevices of the rocks wild raspberries grew very thick. I could see where there had been berries, but the birds go them. That was at the very top of the divide. Then I filled my apron pocket full of flowers, and am going to send you some. The pink are wild geraniums, and the kind that has green wreaths about the stem grows down by us. It’s blue, very dark, and is the first flower in the spring. The snow will be close beside it. Sometimes it comes up through the edge of the snow. I do not know the names of any flowers, but you can see what it looks like. I had to put them in my pocket, for I had to use 2 canes to keep myself from sliding backwards and falling down. It was hard work going up, but it was awful coming back, and I did not get home until it was too dark for the chickens to eat, so you know it was pretty dark. And I did not come back the same way I went up. I angled across the side of the mountain and crossed over into another canyon near to our house, where I went up. The grass was as thick as it could grow, but where I came down was nothing but sandstone and rock, and thick with trees. If Jim had been here he would not have let me go for fear it would make me sick. He tells me the reason I have such a lame back is because I am always tramping in some impossible place where I ought not to. For there are days at a time when I can hardly stand on my feet, for my back is so lame, but I cannot stay in the house all the time and there is nothing to see unless one does climb up the side of the mountain a ways. I wish you could see the beautiful scenery from the top like I did yesterday.
When you write, tell me all the news you can think of, and write soon.
Yours lovingly,
Cecelia
——
Cecelia Jane Davies Friend, b. 11 July 1852, in Pennsylvania; d. 9 April 1923, in Reed Point, Stillwater County, Montana
She had four children: James Charles (1878–1959); Thomas William (1880–1959); Phoebe Ann (1884–1903); and Mary Sara (1891–1975). The two sons were born when the family lived in Michigan, and later, the two daughters in Iowa.
The gingham dog and the calico cat
In other families, kids learn to play ball from their parents, or to fish, or to dance. In ours, we learned to be poets. And the Davie/Buswell history runs parallel with the poets Americans (used to…) love, hold in high esteem, and name their schools after.
—Not that we today are all that prolific, but writing is still a regular part of our lives.
There is a book I’m thinking about replacing. Poems Every Child Should Know. Replacing because it is so worn, so loved, so crumbling with age and use and thousands of page-turnings, that if we hold it much longer, it’ll be a goner.
The intro is dated 1904, by Mary E. Burt of The John A, Browning School.
There are very few images included; we see a _color_ frontispiece and a lovely drawing of lily of the valley.
And I love Kipling’s verse on those who talk to butterflies:
True Royalty
There was never a Queen like Balkis,
From here to the wide world’s end;
But Balkis talked to a butterfly
As you would talk to a friend.
There was never a King like Solomon,
Not since the world began;
But Solomon talked to a butterfly
As a man would talk to a man.
She was Queen of Sabaea—
And he was Asia’s Lord
But they both of ’em talked to butterflies
When they took their walks abroad.
(When this book was published, Kipling was still alive.)
A few years ago, I made a “harness” of thread, to keep the covers together and on the inside pages.
1930s–’40s: recipes approved, “War Dept.”
In my mom’s family, everyone wrote a lot. Letters, poems, journal entries.
They would have been appalled to see a ream of paper thrown out, just because it was printed on one side with something no longer needed. So, someone in the family, most likely mom’s sis Marion, who worked for the VA, brought home yellow paper with blanks on the back side for telegrams. Unused by the War Department (now the DoD), dated 1926.
They must have used that paper for at least a decade. I have recipes typed on it from the ’30s and ’40s. Just like the old yellow bond, the recipes were too good to waste. (Or not… depending on how you feel about singed chicken, mock paté, beef tongue, or “chiffonade” salad dressing… ) Some of the recipes show a source, most do not.
If you enjoy re-creating history, you might find the perfect dish to serve in your air raid shelter.
I have scanned them and made a PDF you can download. Thanks to the Davie girls, in the Dustbowl ’30s and the WWII ’40s, it was waste not, want not.
1934: hometown Canaries baseball
This is part 2. You can read part 1 here: https://wp.me/p4LBtj-ke
May 7, 1934
Sunday afternoon Ruth and Aimee and I went to the first baseball game of the season. The Canaries played Colman and beat them 8 to 2. At the end of the 4th inning, Stucker put in a whole new team from his recruits, and we had the opportunity to see the Canary pitchers work out: Anderson; a left hander; a newcomer from Marcus, Iowa; and Harnisko. Horio showed promise, getting 2 for 3 and fielding OK, at center. We also liked the first baseman from the Sioux City Stockyards and a fellow whose last year’s suit declared that he was from Omaha.
Sunday night we skated at Wall Lake, since Neptune’s skates have been sold down the river.
May 14, 1934
Sunday morning we drove down to Dell Rapids for some more tennis. In the afternoon, saw the Canaries get beat by the Vermillion Red Sox. Skated at Wall Lake. Ray Gehler was there, looking very spiffy.
May 21, 1934
Sunday night I had just got to Elsie’s, preparatory to skating at Wall Lake, when a severe dust storm sprang up. So we stayed there. Today, Monday, we had a couple of showers, the first rain this year.
May 25, 1934
Last night, Thursday, we saw the first league baseball game of the season. The Municipal Band played and Mayor Graff pitched the first ball. After the players were introduced to the fans the game started, and for a while, it looked like the first inning would last all night. Wilson, Harnisko, and Pierson managed to get three outs between them, after 12 runs had been scored.
In the second inning, Floyd Anderson took the mound and finished the game very creditably. The final score was 16 to 3. I had locked the keys in the car, and we got a man from West Sioux to chauffeur us home for the other keys, then back to the ball park.
Friday night we saw a much more satisfactory game in which the Canaries shellacked Norfolk, 12 to 1. Tarantola pitched, and led the batting as well.
At Saturday afternoon’s game, ladies were admitted free, so of course we went, and saw Govenont again limit the opposition to one run while we accumulated several.
Elsie and I had taken Saturday morning off and played three hard sets of tennis. At night, skating. Ward roused himself from the mood he was in to buy us all pop. Ray Gehler says we should be going together instead of toting other people around.
Monday night was Ladies Free again and the Canaries lost to Lincoln, 2 to 4. Shannon pitched OK but had rather poor support. In the last inning, Von Honecker started by singling and the pitcher batted in two runs.
May 31, 1934
Memorial morning we played tennis, Elsie and I breakfasted afterward at Sherman Park. It was a scorching day. We saw Bing Crosby in “We’re Not Dressing” at 6:00, and went to the Beatrice–Canaries ball game at 8:30. It was fun to see the Canaries pound out a few base hits for a change, and win the game, 8 to 4. Pierson used his gloomy ball and fanned 9 men.
Thursday, June 1, 1934
Another dust storm.
Friday, farewell dinner at the Tip Top for Cleone, who’s getting married soon.
Monday, June 4, 1934
We had a rainy day for the first time in 1934. It came down hard for a while, then a soft rain fell.
June 8, 1934
Two more days of rain, and the Canaries, on the road, continue their losing streak.
June 11, 1934
There’s a lot of baseball talk in the office today after last night’s game with the Nebraska All Stars, which we won, 12 to 7. Larry Wheelridge says we’re going to get Rhode of Norfolk and Conaway. We traded Pierson for Rhode, as Norfolk is short of pitchers, and the league that Conaway is in is busting up. Everybody longs for Bosse back again.
June 12, 1934
Ladies Night was a ball game that would have been well worth the 35¢. Horio drove in 7 runs with a triple and a homer inside the park. Woody Hanson, the new right fielder, played brilliantly in the field and hit a triple, scoring Horio before him. There were errors, but it was exciting all the way through—a lot of base stealing. Tucker was like to kill the umpire when Norfolk’s pitcher committed a balk to catch our man stealing second and the umpire called him out. Govenont yelled himself hoarse after that episode. Tarantula did all right on the mound and the final score was 13 to 6.
June 13, 1934
Last night “Doc” Liepelt worked hard for 8 1/3 innings, allowing 4 runs while we made 5. When he hit a triple somebody in the stands yelled “Is there another doctor in the crowd?” When we walked a man with only one out in the 9th, Stucker called “Hey, Duda” and Casey came in and retired the side.
This morning, Hoppie and Bill Wittrock started for their Black Hills vacation, hitchhiking. I took them 10 miles out of town and left them adjusting their knapsacks.
June 14, 1934
The game went for 7 innings and part of the 8th last night with lots of lightning and thunder and occasional sprinkles. The score wavered first in Norfolk’s favor and then in ours, back and forth. Duda relieved Govenont on the mound when the fielders began to drop the balls and fail to make the putouts. the score was tied by a run in the first half of the 8th when the downpour became so heavy that the players took to shelter. It sure came down, and we waited until finally, after the 20 minutes required by rule, somebody announced that the game was called on account of rain. So the score went back to the last full inning and we won, 8 to 7. After we started to go, Tarantola asked Ruth if they could ride home with us, so we took Les Wilson and Norman Tarantola to town. We sat and waited for it to quit raining and talked for about 1 1/2 hours. Couldn’t get the car in up the driveway when we got home, it was so muddy. (Tarantola had had his car at the ball park, but Govenont drove it back for him.)
June 15, 1934
Good doubles tennis at McKennan Park last night with Richard Stevens and his pal, Ed McAllister. He seemed intrigued. Elsie said it was probably the shorts.
Listened to the Baer–Carnera fight last night. It was grand.
The Canaries went 14 innings to win against Lincoln, 3 to 2, with Perry pitching.
June 16, 1934
We played doubles with Richard and Ed again. I went to the ball game at night and saw Tarantola pitch a 6 to 2 victory over Lincoln. It was a well-played game. Today we are all set for a weekend at Okoboji.
June 19, 1934
The Canaries sure need a new first baseman. If we had Bosse we could have won the game last night. Canaries lost to Beatrice 5 to 9. Two or three times we had the bases loaded or at least two on and couldn’t produce a hit. Ruth and Tarantola kept each other entertained.
June 20, 1934
Hop got home from the Hills today. They got rides all around with tourists and saw most everything. On their way home, they were on a pop truck and got stalled in the middle of a storm. So they spent the night in the jail at Salem (not by force!), being treated most hospitably.
June 22, 1934
Last night Ruth and I were both stepping out. She went to a diamond ball game with Fred Pratt and later to the carnival. Richard Stevens took me to see “Moulin Rouge” at the State in his folks’ new Pontiac.
June 30, 1934
Thursday night we had a wiener roast at Cactus Hills with the Pratt and Holt boys. The food was good, and so was the scenery. I do enjoy being outdoors at night by a wood fire.
Friday the team was back in town and we saw them win their first home game, 12 to 0, a shutout for Govenont. The game was marked by four hits by Brandon and a freak double play when the runners thought the ball had been caught, and it wasn’t, but they were both put out before they woke up.
Next installment to come: July, 1934
1873, “My Dear Mame”
End of May, 1873
Mom’s grandparents Mary and James M. Buswell are living in Independence, Iowa, where he is a furniture dealer and carpenter. He had a rough start, but business seems to be more solid at this point, and he is paying back some of the money he borrowed from his brother Charles, back in New Hampshire.
James and Mary have two small children and a brand new baby. He calls his wife “Mame,” as her siblings do.
He travels north, headed for Sioux Falls, to check out the prospects for relocating to where he would have his own furniture business. The situation seems favorable in Elk Point, Dakota Territory—not a state, yet.
J.M.B. writes home to Iowa, to report on what he has found. (Within two years, the family will be living in Elk Point.)
Elk Point, D.T.
May 27th, ’73
My Dear Mame,
I arrived at this place yesterday before noon and thought I would stop and look around town a little before proceeding to Sioux Falls.
I made the acquaintance of some of the business men of the place and ascertained that there’s no one keeping a stock of furniture here and commenced to talk about the chances for that kind of business here. They all seem to think that anyone that would keep a stock of furniture here would have a brisk business and make good profits, and as far as I can ascertain, the prices they pay for furniture and the amount of furniture needed to supply the people here and coming in I can do better to move my stock here and continue the furniture business than I can to go any further and carry out the plans I had when I left home.
Lumber & wood is cheaper here than it is in Independence and I can rent a store at a reasonable rate as I can in Independence almost any place except the one I now occupy. I can lease a lot to put a store onto for fifty dollars for three years and I need not pay anything the first year.
The business men all seem anxious that I should come here and come at once before someone else occupies this ground. And taking everything into consideration I don’t think I can do better than to move my stock here at once.
If I really decide to do so, I shall send for a part of it before I return home and perhaps not be home quite as soon as I expected when I left home.
Write to me and let me know how you are getting along. Hope that you are able to be about again by this time.
Kisses for Willie, Lena, & Baby Brother.
With much love to Dear Wife, from your affectionate Husband,
J.M. Buswell
Marion loves the “Canaries” • 1933
INTRO: Mom’s sister Marion Davie was a big fan of the Sioux Falls Canaries in the 1930s, a local baseball team that was part of the Nebraska State League—like a farm team. Marion was born in 1909 and graduated from high school in ’27, so players in their twenties would have been near her age. Marion worked at the Vet’s Admin, doing clerical work, taking dictation, processing claims, and documenting expenses.
She wrote about games, sometimes mentioning players. And she was friends with a few guys over the years. Sometimes we read about Marion and friends going out with the players, driving around town with them, snacking after games, etc. Marion’s best friend is Elsie Walser. Elsie is mentioned frequently. Marion and Elsie enjoy skating (roller and ice), and they learned to play tennis about a year before her 1933 diary is written.
Found this HISTORY blurb online:
The Nebraska State League was composed entirely of teams affiliated with the St. Louis Cardinals (other Nebraska cities in the league were Norfolk, Lincoln, and Beatrice).
St. Louis’ General Manager, Branch Rickey, was largely responsible for the “farm” system—among his many innovations—under which the parent club controlled the minor league affiliates. Eventually, this system was adopted by all the other MLB teams.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 21, 1933
Monday night we went to the ball game at Legion Park between the Canaries and Beatrice, Nebraska. It was Ladies Night (ladies free). Of course there was a capacity crowd, and it was far and away the best game I ever saw. Stan Conaway’s striking appearance and splendid pitching had a lot to do with it. The game was full of thrills, the Canaries rallying after the score stood at 4 to 1 against them, to win by a point. Baseball under the floodlights is all right!
FRIDAY, JUNE 23, 1933
We’ve been skating at Neptune this spring. Sometimes George Baker comes—he likes Elsie. Sunday before last Roy Gehler came rather late in the evening. We had a good skate—we like to skate zig-zag and it went especially well that time. I must have had a good pair of skates and I guess Ray still brings his own. Ray is working again in a gas station at Hartford. He is playing ball also (first base).
AUGUST, 1933
One night at the ball game, Stanley Conaway sent me some gum by little Ray, the boy who puts on the jackets. May Fletcher told us last Saturday that the boys were crazy to meet us and that they even called her up one Sunday. Last night (August 8th) on the first game here since their last tour, Bill Harrison lost and apologized to us afterwards. He comes over to the car after the game, says “Good evenin’ ” and in his southern accent discusses some of the fine parts of the game with us. We enjoy what first-hand information he gives us. He says we are good luck—if he looks up and sees us sitting there, its _all right_.
On August 10th, Conaway pitched and almost had a shutout. The next day, Friday, we went to another game. Conaway amused himself by peeking at us through the megaphone. After the game Bill stopped at our car for a chat and we told him we were going to leave soon on our vacation to Okoboji. He thought that was too bad. While were were gone, Ruth and Aimee had some fun at the ball games. They went to two. A highlight was Ike Olk’s rendition of “Lazybones.” Another was some player who sent up a messenger to learn Ruth’s name (he said he was the best looking outfielder!), without avail.
Sunday, August 27, was the first home game after our return from the Lakes. We wond from Norfolk, 14 to 13. Monday was Ladies Night. Conaway pitched and won, 9 to 6. On Wednesday we lost to Beatrice. The umpire called some awful decisions and we had an indignation meeting afterwards.
Thursday Schroeder pitched and Beatrice took us again, 5 to 1. Bill Harrison and Rip Schroeder rode back to town with us, to their hotel. We made a tennis date for Saturday afternoon. We went to the Orpheum instead, because, as the Manager said when Bill got him to drive him out to McKennan Courts, “Hell, it’s too wet to play, anyway, damn you!” Bill said we were often the subject of conversation in the dugout, the boys speculating as to who we were, etc. It seems that Mitchell said he was dying to meet one of us and wanted Harrison to fix it up for him, but Bill said ” _____, I can’t even fix it up for myself.” (Bill graduated from the Univ. of Tennessee, M. A., and was the only five-letter man.)
Saturday night there was an unexpected game with Lincoln. Conaway lost, 4 to 2.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1933
Lincoln beat us 2 to 1. Dahl from Luverne pitched. We gave Conaway and Harrison a ride home and Harrison promised us tickets for Labor Day. Monday we played tennis in the morning and met Bill Harrison at the courts. We went to the afternoon and evening game.
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1933
We saw the Canaries play Sioux City Stock Yards and win, 7 to 1, Schroeder pitching. On Sunday the 17th, we saw them beat Alexander’s House of David. A _swell_ pepper game.
During September, when Bill was in town, I saw him quite often. One Saturday, we arranged to meet at the East Side Court and had some good tennis. We had orangeade at the 12th & Minnesota drugstore. Bill asked me to go to a show with him that night. He came out in a taxi. We went to the midnight show at the State and saw Marlene Dietrich in “Song of Songs.” Afterwards we went to the Tip Top, then hiked in the rain to the taxi stand.
Jerry Donovan is a friend of Bill’s from Sioux City, a salesman who spends his weekends here. When Bill got back from playing in Minnesota, we went to see “Three-Cornered Moon” at the State. Bill drove Jerry’s car. Afterwards we drove about and visited the Hills of Rest Memorial Park. On another occasion, we drove out to Seney Island.
On Dot’s birthday, I played tennis with Bill and Stanley Conaway was an interested spectator. After we had dropped Stan at the Ritz, we drove out to Sherman Park and had pop at some stand at a golf course. After the birthday party at Swanson’s, later he took me riding, having borrowed Jerry’s car.
The following Thursday Bill was back in town and eager to see me. He was going home to Tennessee to visit for the first time in five years. Bill’s winter plans were completed; he was keen on playing basketball with the Rock Springs Sparklers under Stucker’s management, and was to be back in Sioux Falls in a month. He called a couple of times when I wasn’t home. Toward the end of the week in the sport news came the announcement that Bill Harrison had been shipped to Arizona for his health. The End.
Later in the fall, there was a fast basketball game wherein the Rock Springs Sparklers got the best of Babe Didrikson and her team.
1871, March: PSB wrote to JMB in Iowa
Our great-great grandmother wrote fairly understandable letters to her son in the “West,” but there’s erratic punctuation and capitalization. I did chose to standardize that somewhat in this post. Makes it much more readable.
Auburn, New Hampshire
March 19th, 1871
My dear son, James, how do you do, away out there in the cold. I should like to see you, but I do not suppose I shall, I should like to know if you are alive and well. I have not heard from you for a long time. I have not had any letter from you since you were married.
The pictures came but no word from you, James. Please write. I consider you are mine as much as ever you were. I thank you very much for those pictures. I would thank you for a letter. I think Willie looks a good deal as you used to, I think Willie is rather more fleshy. He looks like a good child.
I want you to teach him to love the Savior, tell him the story of the Cross, and how Jesus loved the little children and took them up in his arms and blessed them. When on earth let him look you in the face and see that you mean what you say.
I can’t ask you to come home to see us and then have to go back. There are so many railroad accidents. If you could live not far off I should like it.
How is your health? If we are well now, it seems to me that time with us on Earth is very short. I hope we shall be more & more in earnest to make our calling and election sure and have our treasure in Heaven. Seek to love God above everything else and try to do his will, be obedient to his commandments. I think I have, by the help of God, been trying to do right, but I find that I come far short in everything, so, I will leave it all with Him to do more, far more, and better for us than we can ask or think, for Jesus Christ’s sake.
I should like a letter from Mary any time. Children die sometimes very sudden as well as grown folks. Your father seemed to drop away pretty quick at last and easy. He was very sick the night before. He talked some that forenoon and died little past twelve. He wanted to tell Franklin and Mary something that morning. They asked him a good many things but he said he could not make them understand.
Sarah has been sick a good deal. She wan’t able to come to the funeral. She had been sick more or less most ever since I suppose she had the typhoid fever last summer. She did not get able to be up round much ’til cold weather. Then the children had the chicken pox, and then after they got better she got sick again. The doctor came. He said one of her lungs was badly affected. He thought he could give her something that would help her. She has been better, but not able to sit up. I do not know how it will turn with her. She has not been so well this afternoon.
March 20th
Sarah is about the same, rather better I think. My health is good, for me. Jacob’s wife’s health is poor. The rest of us are about the same as usual. Mary & I try to do all we can for Sarah. Frank appears to be well and smart and tries to do his best. I think Charles H was at home to Town Meeting. He was well. If you want to hear any more about your father, I will write another time.
Good bye, all.
Please give my love and best respects to all inquiring friends, and a good share to yourself. Give Willie a good, sweet kiss for me, James M. Buswell.
——
<<P.S.>>
The children are, all of them, pretty well now.
James, my health has been remarkably good all the time since your father was taken sick, and last summer, while Sarah was sick, except one week and then I was round. I have not scarcely had any cold to speak of. I was up nights with him a great deal. He was a terrible distressed man most of the time, I think.
This from your mother, Mary Buswell.
Things mom saved. 