Results for: “Biography & Autobiography”
|Marianne Boruch||Indiana University Press||ePub|
California. Here we were. Frances smiled a little wanly, and not at me. At the thought of it, I guess. At all that lay ahead.
See, she said, I told you, you do need sunglasses here. That got me fishing the cheapo pair out of my pack, and I put them on. Sunglasses in March. Like some movie star.
We didn’t wait long. Another hippie van pulled over, this one not so freshly or enthusiastically christened as such, with its blistering blue paint, its one cracked window repaired with duct tape. The genuine article, I suppose you might say, clearly on the road for a while. We heard a voice: just get in the back! So we opened the rear double door and heaved up, into the thing, settling down, looking toward the driver’s seat, past all the predictables: the sway of hanging beads on the windows, pillows and Indian print spreads piled high, Zap Comix and Rolling Stone magazines lying about, The Whole Earth Catalog on top of everything, its black cover floating our home planet seen far away, from outer space. We could make out the two in the front seat, their long hair, their T-shirts, thin leather strips around their necks, one in a Mao cap—the usual get-up, all of which spelled cool, spelled young. Then they turned around. News flash: they were old, nearly as old as my parents, I remember thinking. Some of their teeth were missing. They looked awful.See All Chapters
|Robert W. Lull||University of North Texas Press||ePub|
Campaigning: Fort Whipple, Arizona Territory
In 1867, General Gregg established Eighth Cavalry regimental headquarters at Camp Whipple, Arizona Territory. Camp Whipple was outside the small community of Prescott, then the territorial capital. He went into Arizona to replace Colonel John Mason, commander of the District of Arizona. Arizona had been under jurisdiction of California’s Union volunteers, filling the void left when Confederates pulled out in 1862, ending their brief occupation of the Confederate Territory of Arizona.1
The United States Congress established Arizona Territory, in its current configuration, in 1863. Union troops from California built Camp Whipple late in 1863 as a response to increased Indian activity in central Arizona. A month later, the new territorial governor of Arizona, John N. Goodwin, directed the establishment of a territorial capital near Camp Whipple. In May of 1864, the post—now designated Fort Whipple—relocated twenty miles southwest to more favorable terrain. Without missing a beat, Governor Goodwin moved the capital to a site near the new fort, planting a seed that grew into present-day Prescott.2See All Chapters
|Michael Sparke||University of North Texas Press|
Adventure in Emotion:
The LA Neophonic
For much of 1964 Kenton was turned off from music altogether, in what may have seemed like over-reaction to a mere two weeks’ poor reception overseas, but which Stan explained in a long letter to Joe
Coccia dated September 7, 1964. This is just a short extract: “I haven’t been any place other than at home with the children, they need me so much to be with them. I’ve been through a period of adjustment, from wanting to give up music for something else, or retiring completely on a low budget. I’ve had terrible depressions and hardly any creative drive.
I’m delighted to tell you, however, that I’m about to come out of it, and I realize I’ve had these dry periods before, but that doesn’t seem to make it any less painful while they’re taking place.”
John Worster also explains how Stan’s psyche could easily put things out of perspective: “Stan Kenton is a man who’s immense in everything he does. When he trips, he doesn’t just stumble, he falls flat on his face.See All Chapters
|David M. Jordan||Indiana University Press||ePub|
THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC MARCHED BACK from Mine Run and the Rapidan and moved into winter quarters. Warren wrote to Emily, saying, “Our army accomplished but little on the late movement. We drove Genl Lee into his intrenchments when finding him too strongly posted for us to assault we came back.” He told Will, “You must not be disturbed by any attacks you may see on me in the newspapers. I have warning, that there is to be a regular charge on me because I declined to attack the enemy’s breastworks on the morning of the 30th November. But I am master of my position and good will come of it.” He warned Emily of “a grand newspaper assault on me” but hoped that out of it all “things will come before the public and I hope evils corrected that have long affected us.”1
Warren was anticipating the storm that would descend because of the abortive Mine Run campaign, but he was confident that his actions were immune to criticism. “Don’t let the late movements worry you,” he told his wife. “Thank heaven they were all right as far as I was concerned and the failure was to the plans not having been carried out by those with us, and then it fell upon me to decide we should not waste our men’s lives in hopeless assaults to make up for previous blunder. Rest assured I did right and all in the army will say so.”2See All Chapters
|James H. Capshew||Indiana University Press||ePub|
My door will always be open to you for the discussion of any of your problems. I am sure I may say the same thing for each of the other members of our faculty. Come to us frequently. We wish to know each of you personally, and to share with you your experiences and problems.
Herman B Wells, 1935
Through the process of juggling three jobs in state government, Wells gained invaluable administrative experience. Work was his life. Endless meetings, telephone conversations, and document preparation left him little time for sleep or leisure. He preferred bachelor quarters, living at the Claypool Hotel or at the Indianapolis Athletic Club, both at the hub of downtown Indianapolis. Bedrooms for sleeping were simple and Spartan, but the public spaces were impressive. Elegant lobbies, dining facilities, meeting rooms, and exercise areas were designed to accommodate the needs of successful and cultured men. Wells found it quite comfortable, and it was a convenient starting point for his frequent business travel to other parts of the state. He was also at ease with the quotidian accoutrements of his job, such as tailored business suits and restaurant food. Occasionally he was able to slip away to Bloomington and visit old friends, or go to French Lick to relax in the grand hotel and gaming establishment. In May 1934, he wrote to his mother about his recent physical examination, saying “I am in perfect condition,” but the doctor suggested that Wells lose 50 pounds, do less work and more play, and to get married: “This is rather a peculiar prescription – most of it made in fun, of course.” He added that he would be following a diet that evening.1See All Chapters
|Rebecca McClanahan||Indiana University Press||ePub|
Early photographs of my mother confirm my father’s frequent remark: “She was a living doll.” Sometimes I correct him, joking that if he’s looking to make points, he shouldn’t use the past tense. But usually I don’t make a federal case about it, partly because the remark doesn’t seem to bother my mother, but mostly because his affection for her is so obvious and steadfast. Let’s say she’s getting up from her chair, where she’s been piecing a quilt or arranging photographs in an album or writing a note to one of their fifteen grandchildren. As she moves across the room, my father’s gaze will follow her with the admiration of a newlywed, for, if we are to believe his eyes, she is all news to him. Sometimes, out of the blue, he will say to me, “You have an amazing mother, do you know that?” This is a rare gift: for a daughter of any age, let alone a daughter as old as I am, to witness a father’s love for her mother. And I mark it here, so I will not forget. If beauty resides in the beholder’s eyes, my mother is still beautiful.See All Chapters
|John Mark Dempsey||University of North Texas Press|
T H E M , I F T H E Y ’ L L K E E P M E T H AT L O N G ”
many of the trips then, but I was doing the payroll and turning the bills into the mill,” Smokey remembered. “Jerry Elliott did a lot of those [trips]. And Bill Hudson, who played the guitar, and Paul Blunt.
Lefty Perkins made a lot of those trips” (Montgomery oral history,
168; Elliott interview, March 8, 2001).
The arrival of Jerry Elliott signals the beginning of the modern period of the Doughboys. Jerry joined the Doughboys as a substitute for Smokey during Smokey’s Levee Club days. Elliott is a distant second in seniority with the Doughboys, at a considerable 40plus years of service. “In any other group, that would sound like a very long time,” he said with a smile (Smith, 19).
Elliott was working as the manager of a Fort Worth music store.
Doughboy Johnny Strawn, a fiddler modern-day Doughboy Art
Greenhaw calls “a great artist,” actually invited Elliott to join the group.
“Johnny came by out at the store one time, and said, ‘Hey, Smokey is going into the Levee Club, and we need somebody to go on the road with us and play banjo.’ And I said, ‘I don’t play banjo very much. I play a few chords well enough to sell ’em across the counter.’ And he said, ‘Well, that’ll do. You sing and sing parts, so come to work with us on the road with the Doughboys.’ And I said, ‘Well, I said I don’t even know how to play banjo very well.’ And he said, ‘Well, tune it like a guitar.’ Well, I tried that a time or two, but that just didn’t work for me. So I learned to play the darn thing right, but I never could play solos like Smokey. But I knew all the chords and did all the vocals, so I started traveling with the Doughboys.”See All Chapters
|Edited and Annotated by Charles M. Robinson III||University of North Texas Press|
“So That I Could
Show the White Men”
ay 20th 1881. Breakfast over, Mr. Graham took me to one of the corrals to see the Zunis shearing their sheep. The corral was a simple affair of small poles fastened with rawhide and contained as many as 250 sheep and goats, whose bleating and baa-aaa-ing made the place a pandemonium. A man would seize a sheep by the hind leg, and as soon as the animal had become exhausted with kicking, a squaw would seize the front leg on the same side and thus easily throw the sheep down, when all four feet were promptly tied together and the shearing began; the instrument employed being butcher knives, sharpened pieces of sheet iron and, occasionally, shearing scissors.
In their herds, I noticed hybrids,—half sheep—half goats: the skin of one of these serves as a rug in Mr. Graham’s. Bought a pair of
Zuni ear-rings, of same style as those of the Navajoes—paid for them $1.50. I have now been enough among the Zunis to observe that not a half-breed can be seen among them; this remark does not apply to the children of men, like Jesus, adopted into the tribe. A woman passed us crying bitterly for the loss of her mother who died yesterday. The funeral came along in a few moments and we had every opportunity for observing it: The corpse wrapped in a coupleSee All Chapters
|Barbara Tepa Lupack||Indiana University Press||ePub|
Richard Edward Norman JR. was born on July 13, 1891, in Middleburg, Florida, a small rural town outside of Jacksonville. The oldest child of Richard Edward Norman Sr. (1855–1942), a pharmacist who owned his own store, and Katherine (Kate) Kennedy Bruce Norman (1861–1939), he had two brothers—Earl Redding Norman, who volunteered and served with the Royal Canadian Forces during World War I and who later drowned at a Florida beach, and Kenneth Bruce Norman, who became a partner with Richard in the film production business before leaving to pursue other interests.1 After high school, Richard attended Massey Business School in Jacksonville, where he honed a number of the skills that would serve him well throughout his career.
According to his family, Richard was an industrious young man. As a teenager he began working at a local Jacksonville theater, where he often entertained audiences by playing the piano, possibly providing musical accompaniment to some of the early silent pictures screened there. After his parents separated in 1910, Richard and his brothers moved with their mother to Kansas City, Kansas, to be closer to her relatives. In Kansas City and later in Chicago (where he met and married his first wife, Ethel), Richard found employment with several film companies and also pursued some of his own entrepreneurial ambitions.See All Chapters
|Mark T. Smokov||University of North Texas Press|
he tri-state area, which included Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah, was experiencing increasing activity from rustlers who found sanctuary in hideouts such as Robbers Roost, Brown’s Hole, Powder
Springs, and Hole-in-the-Wall. Owing to the rising price of cattle, the problem became so great, it was reported that “The gangs have almost depopulated the ranges within 200 miles of their retreats,” with raids netting one hundred to five hundred head at a time.1 A meeting of cattlemen was held on February 15, 1898, in Rawlins, to discuss a plan of action.
It was suggested that stock detectives should be hired and a reward or bounty placed on the rustlers.2
It is difficult to trace the whereabouts and activities (criminal or otherwise) of the various outlaws that rode with the Wild Bunch in 1898.
The Pinkertons reported that Sundance spent the winter of 1897/1898 employed at the Frank Kelsey ranch, a neighbor of A. R. Reader, in the Little Snake River Valley.3 Within the January to March 1898 time frame, it has been stated that Kid Curry robbed a bank in Clifton, Arizona, in the company of Texas outlaw Ben Kilpatrick, and then to have taken a solo trip to Paris, France, with the proceeds.4 Both incidents would have to be considered as hearsay, since they cannot be backed up by contemporary news reports or any other tangible evidence. It is not known if Curry was acquainted with Kilpatrick at this time, and it also seems quite out of character for him to travel to Europe, especially at this time of his life.See All Chapters
|George Lambert Bristol||Texas A&M University Press||ePub|
Our first home back in Denton was a summer-vacated girls’ dormitory near campus. It was perfect. It had a piano in the lobby and a great kitchen and was just down the hill from the college swimming pool. Because Granddaddy Donoho was a faculty member, we had pool privileges and it seemed every afternoon we swam there, even though polio raged across Texas and the country. Mom’s position was fatalistic: the dreaded disease would or wouldn’t hit us, regardless of what we did. Many parents kept their children indoors. Aunt Donnie and Uncle Brooks wouldn’t let Don and Judd venture out often, but sometimes they came over and we had a splendid time being together and swimming.
Restrictions to going out did not apply to churchgoing. I suppose most thought that God’s house was a sanctuary against not only sin, but also disease. There in the summer of 1947 and for the next two years we continued to learn about Jesus, prayed, and after church walked or drove with Granddaddy’s friends to the cafeteria at the college for lunch.See All Chapters
|Susan Spano||Roaring Forties Press||ePub|
The morning I left New York in 1998, I closed the door to my apartment, went downstairs, and found a drunk sleeping in the lobby.
I took it as a sign. It was time to move on. I’d lived in the city for almost 20 years. Everyone I knew had been mugged at least once. My clothes were all black and my driver’s license had expired.
I spent the next five years in L.A., mostly missing New York, especially on 9/11, when I sat on the stoop with my neighbors in Hancock Park, nursing a lighted candle, secretly feeling like a defector who could never go back to the homeland.
Then came eight glorious, nutty years abroad, writing about travel from the Seventh Arrondissment in Paris, Beijing in the run-up to the 2008 Olympics, eternal Rome in the shadow of the Coliseum.
Along the way, I rented furnished apartments, moving in with only a few suitcases. My stuff—an inadequate word for my mother’s writing desk, family albums, and my college diploma—ended up in an eerie Hollywood storage unit; if I ever kill someone, that’s where I’ll hide the body. On visits back to L.A. I sometimes added things I’d collected on my trips: Buddhist prayer flags from Lhasa, a Vietnamese water puppet, dried lavender clipped at a friend’s place in Provence. God knows what all was in there.See All Chapters
|Edited and Annotated by Charles M. Robinson III||University of North Texas Press|
Into the Uintahs
uly 26th. Major C.S. Roberts 17th Infantry, reported to Genl.
Crook for duty on his Staff as Aide de Camp.
Applied to War Dep’t. for revocation of my detail to the Mily.
July 28th. General Crook, Major Roberts, A.D.C., Miss Gertrude
Belcher (a bright, pleasant young lady daughter of Major [John
Hill] Belcher, U.S.A.) and the writer, left Omaha for the West. In the car with us were Mr. Burt Watson and Miss Yates, accompanying
Miss Belcher as far as the incoming train from the West at Valley.
Shortly after leaving the dépôt, General Crook received a telegram from Lieut-General Sheridan informing him that the Hd.Qrs. Dep’t
Platte were to be removed back to the city of Omaha. This is simply a common sense move, based upon wise business consideration. The transfer to Fort Omaha in the first place was a piece of clap-trap and demagoguery to which, unfortunately, the General of the Army,
Sherman, lent too ready an acquiescence. It was, besides being an unnecessary hardship and inconvenience to the officers immediately concerned and their families, a serious hindrance to public business in separating headquarters supply departments from the mercantile branches of the community, and an extravagant increaseSee All Chapters
|Paula Young Lee||Travelers' Tales||ePub|
If the [zodiac] stars are animals, what food do they eat?
nephew of Adelard of Bath, 12th century
The neighbors had been losing chickens, Ruth remarks over dishes in the sink. Kept finding them with their heads gone.
and...? I prod. Shes washing. Im wiping. With one eye, I look through the kitchen window, scanning the henhouse, but its the middle of the day. Outside, nothing moves. No birds. No insects. Just flakes of snow, swirling on invisible breezes, falling in the gray light. Its utterly silent until the winds start to whip. Then the whole house sets to rumbling. These snowflakes sting if they hit you in the face. The edges are like little razor blades, but they are very pretty.
They set out traps, she continues, her arthritic hands busily scrubbing a casserole dish. Finally caught a white weasel. Hed been decapitating them. She shakes her head and scrubs some more, marveling at the peculiar thirst of animals.
Weasels want the blood. Rats attack the flanks. Foxes decimate the bird, leaving nothing behind but cracked bones and feathers. Americans want the breasts, putting the rest into fancy feasts for cats. The hunger reveals the beast.See All Chapters
|Vince Bell||University of North Texas Press|
Play Like You Practice
took three trips to Europe during that
Texas stay. The first was in 1995 to Holland and Belgium as the supporting act for the Jayhawks.
Tivoli, Utrecht (w/The Jayhawks)
Paradiso, Amsterdam (w/The Jayhawks)
Luna, Brussels, Belgium
Noorderlicht, Tilburg (w/The Jayhawks)
Leidsekade Live (National Radio Show) (afternoon)
Nighttown, Rotterdam (w/The Jayhawks) (evening)
Oosterpoort, Gronlingen (w/The Jayhawks)
Zalen Schaaf, Leeuwarden (w/The Jayhawks)
Tom Tom Club, Heythuizen
Cactus Club, Brugge, Belgium
When I did my own solo dates as well, Sarah, our driver Bert, and
I saw the kilometers in between. In Den Bosch, it was at a joint down from a twelfth-century cathedral and a Mexican restaurant. Utrecht was a busy, paved-over university town, and a whistle-stop on the rail line between Amsterdam and Rotterdam. On the border with Belgium, I played the hippest spot in a little hamlet. There weren’t as many people walking the one street in the day as there were for mySee All Chapters