Showing posts with label Caldwell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Caldwell. Show all posts

Sunday, February 20, 2011

FARM KIDS TO CITY KIDS


There's no doubt about it. These Ryland kids - Bobbie and Florence standing on the ground and Virginia (my mother) sitting on the horse - were farm kids.

Ultimately there were seven kids in the Ryland family. Two were born in Colorado Springs, where my grandfather often went for short periods of times for his health. The rest were born in Caldwell, Kansas, where "home" really was. Caldwell was a real "cow town" -- a place where in the 1870s and 1880s the cattle drives up from Texas heading toward the railroad in Wichita brought those longhorns right through the area on the old Chisolm Trail. But by the time my mom was born, the cattle were gone and farm life was pretty much what was going on day after day.

The picture above comes from an old family album that finally came into my possession. So many of the formal portraits are unidentified, but my grandma took lots of snapshops, stuck them in every available space, and labeled and dated each one. Lucky me. The Haystack picture says "Grandpa 75, Byrd 43, Bobbie 16. Mulvane farm August 14, 1926. 112 degrees." The grandpa noted above was James A. Ryland, my great-grandfather and "gentleman farmer." Byrd was my grandfather, who died before I was born. Bobbie was my mother's oldest brother.

In 1929 my grandmother Jessie divorced my grandpa Byrd. The family was living in Colorado Springs at that time. In the settlement Jessie was given the Mulvane farm in lieu of alimony. As often happens, some families do not talk about unpleasant affairs, and the Ryland family was certainly this way. In spite of all us cousins asking our parents about the "whys" of the divorce, our parents said they didn't know. Of course they knew, but they weren't talking. The most my mother ever said was, "Oh, well, I was a teenager and I was busy with my friends and I know my dad wasn't easy to live with, but I don't know any details." I have copies of the divorce papers that say he was abusive to his wife, and the judge ruled he wasn't fit to have custody of the children.

After the divorce, Jessie packed up the kids and headed for the farm at Mulvane, and it is here that the picture below was taken. Shown are my aunt Marie and my uncles Bert and Hughie. This was also the place where my grandma had chickens that she always told us grandkids about when my sister and I were little girls. Oh, how she loved her chickens.


Shortly after this picture was taken, the farm burned down.
On July 17, 1930 the Mulvane News reported the following:

THE JESSIE RYLAND HOUSE IS BURNED THIS MORNING.

Fire destroys farm house of Mrs. Jessie Ryland and family who lived four miles east of Mulvane. It was first noticed about 9 o’clock this morning. The fire had progressed so far when discovered that it was impossible for Mrs. Ryland to put it out with just the aid of her children, and when neighbors came in response to her phone call all that could be saved was the furniture and other articles from the two front rooms where the flames had not made entry impossible.

Mrs. Ryland’s home was a nice, seven-room house and was one of the well-kept, better-appearing homes of the country east of Mulvane. Mrs. Ryland was out caring for her chickens and after having been away from the house for some time she noticed black smoke coming from the kitchen. She ran to the house and attempted to spread the alarm by giving a line call on the rural telephone line. However, the flames and smoke prevented her from staying at the telephone only long enough to say, “My house is afire” after ringing. Neighbors who heard that brief statement had to find out for themselves whose house it was that was burning. W. H. Ferguson who lives a half mile east of the Ryland home first discovered the location of the fire and telephoned to other neighbors to help.

A brisk southwest breeze carried burning embers to the other buildings on the place but these were saved. The many dense cedar trees near the house were thought to be an aid to holding the fire from spreading to the other buildings.

Contents of the living room and a front bedroom were all that were saved of the family’s household goods and all clothing except that worn by the family at the time of the fire were destroyed. The loss was estimated at $3,000. This was of course partially covered by insurance.

The three oldest children (Bob, Florence and Virginia) were out on their own prior to the family moving back to Kansas. My mother, after graduating from high school in 1928, had taken a job with a local portrait studio and was learning how to retouch and color photographs. The picture below was taken of her by the studio so she could practice her skills. It is retouched, and mother always kept it because she was the only one who ever knew what the original looked like! All she told us kids was that she loved her work and did a good job!


After the fire, my grandma decided to come to California, where her son Bob had already moved. This was in 1930 during the depression and he told her jobs were plentiful in Los Angeles. My mother was needed to help grandma with the move, so mother left Colorado for California. There is a possibility that if the family had stayed in Kansas I might have been a farm girl too.

While I am actually pleased that we became California kids instead of farm kids, I have always had it in my heart to have and raise a fat hen. It's obviously not going to happen in my lifetime, Jerry says, but I suspect that desire comes from my grandma and her chicken stories.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

WARM FUZZIES


Seems like in doing genealogy you either have too many pictures or not enough. Or maybe it is that you have way too many snapshots and not enough portraits. This snapshot is one of many dozens that have survived on my mom's side of the family - and my generation is hard pressed to know what to do with them all.

I look at this picture and know that it is of my uncle Bob and his paternal grandfather. I have portraits of both of them, so I don't really "need" this picture, but for my money it tells me a whole lot more than those portraits do.

Grandpa James Arthur Ryland (my great-grandfather) looks older than Moses in this picture, but I know that since little "Bobby" was born in 1906 and JAR was born in 1847, Grandpa was really only 63 year old and he would live through the births of 8 more grandchildren and not die until the mid 1930s when he did, in fact, look more like Moses.

This picture shows me that little boys even after they were old enough to start walking were dressed in dresses. I don't know for sure but I'd guess it had something to do with putting them in pants when they were toilet trained (and boys are notoriously slow at that!). But whatever, little Bobby (his name was actually Nevalyn Eugene Ryland) sure does look cute and cuddly here. And for sure he is trying to trying to ask his Grandpa what that large black animal is.

James Arthur Ryland came from Indiana to Caldwell, Kansas as a young man, intending on teaching school. There is a book entitled "Midnight and Noonday: Or the Incidental History of Southern Kansas and the Indian Territory 1871-1890" by G. D. Freeman (and ghost-written in 1890 by JAR's wife Louise Hall Ryland, according to a letter JAR wrote that is in the possession of other family members). This book gives a great look at just what kind of a rough and tumble, wild western town Caldwell was when Ryland arrived. He did, in fact, teach some school, but he also bought up old bedraggled cows that were being brought up the Chisolm trail and were too tired to go any further. He bought some land, put the cows on it to fatten then up, and then he sold them at a great profit. It is likely that the photo of little "Bobby" and his Grandpa was taken on that ranch in Kansas.

I look at this picture and I see the world my mother was born into. She was the third of seven children born in Caldwell to JAR's son Byrd Ryland. She told us stories of growing up in Kansas - the farms, the tornados, the hanging of wet sheets in front of the doors to try to cool off the house, the one-room school houses, the animals, the vegetable gardens, and yes, the chickens. The Ryland family (at least most of it) left Kansas for California in 1931. I have gone to Caldwell several times and while I feel some symbiotic feeling for it, I can't help but be thankful that at least my line of the Rylands went west. We may have earthquakes but we don't have tornados!