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Appendix A

Keagan LeJeune University of North Texas Press PDF

Appendix A

The information for this manuscript comes from a variety of sources.

In addition to the many articles and books cited throughout the work, the manuscript builds on interviews, field notes, and archival material.

The work also draws from the many local sources that collect various people’s accounts of the Smith legend and the Grabow War.

Long before the official work for this book began, I had heard various stories and details about life in No Man’s Land and several accounts of Leather Britches Smith’s life and deeds. Some of the more general observations about the region’s culture draw from these experiences. In

1999, I focused my efforts on the Smith legend and its connection to the Grabow War. I interviewed many people, often relying on taking notes rather than recording the conversations.

No attempt was made to select consultants based on gender, age, or status in the community. Instead, through the course of the conversations and informal meetings, I realized that for the Leather Britches legend many people turned to a few key persons in the area. The nature of this research dictated a focus on those persons known to possess the deepest knowledge of the time. Moreover, hesitancy by many to slander a family’s name on tape or to have their conversations about such events recorded on tape necessitated an approach focused on key members of the community. These people had garnered enough community status

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3. On the Yellowstone

Edited and Annotated by Charles M. Robinson III University of North Texas Press PDF

Chapter 3

On the Yellowstone

We remained on the Yellowstone from the 17th to the 24th of August, a description of one day answering for all the others. There was not much work to be done: cavalry commanders looked to their horses;

Infantry officers picked out the men who began to show signs of exhaustion. General Crook’s command moved once up the Yellowstone to get better water and more grass and be more in proximity to fuel. The steamer Far West lay moored to the bank near our second camp. This craft is the one which first ploughed the waters of the

Big Horn. General Terry embarked upon her with the survivors of the Custer Massacre. Captain Grant Marsh, her commander, was the first navigator of the Upper Missouri and the first one to run a steamboat up the Yellowstone. He made his first voyage in company with General Sandy Forsyth, of General Sheridan’s staff, in the summer of 1875 upon the steamer Josephine. They advanced as far as

Pompey’s Pillar,1 and a few miles beyond, or something over a hun1. Bourke is referring to a Smithsonian expedition which, obviously, had a military escort. Pompey’s Pillar itself is a 120-foot sandstone pillar that rises above the plain on the

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V. Dramatis Personae

Caki Wilkinson University of North Texas Press PDF
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Joe Murphy

Larry A. Sneed University of North Texas Press PDF




when the motorcade was to pass. That was the only time that traffic was allowed to stop on the freeway. Many of the officers were north of the overpass as much as a quarter of a mile from the overpass where the Elm Street entrance entered the freeway.

Others were just riding the area stopping with messages they had for me. We were all channeled to listen for any information from the office or from the dispatcher.

Prior to the arrival of the motorcade I saw some men walking up on the Triple Underpass. Based on how they were dressed, I assumed they were railroad people. There was also at least one officer there as well.

I could see the motorcade when it came down Main and turned right onto Houston and over to Elm. But there were some trees that obscured my view at Elm and Houston, so I lost sight of it for a moment or two. As it approached my position, I heard the shots and a flock of pigeons took off flying in circles. I couldn't tell where the noise was coming from due to the reverberations. In fact, I didn't realize they were shots at first. But I did hear three, what were later defined as shots, and they were about evenly spaced. I could see that something was wrong in the car as it got nearer to my position because the President's wife was leaning over toward President Kennedy, and as I was standing right above them, I heard someone say, "Get us to the nearest hospital!"

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Polly Buckingham University of North Texas Press ePub

Baby Michelle slept like a kitten against Sheila's chest, Nick's white crew hat completely covering her face so it was hard to tell she was anything other than part of the baby sack. Nick lifted the edge of the hat with his thumb, but all he saw was the hat's arcing shadow; even her tiny red fists had disappeared into folds of cloth. “Hey there, Little Buddy.”

“Stop calling her that,” Sheila said.

The air smelled of butter and corn and meat, and the cacophony of twenty or so bands playing at once stirred Nick, the rhythm like a pulse. He wanted to jump up and down in a crowd close to the stage and the speakers which thumped like his insides thumped, to hold his arms in the air and shout above the deafening sounds of a grunge or punk band, to bash his body against the bodies of others.

“But that's my Gilligan hat,” Nick said, stepping in place so as not to get ahead of Sheila. He'd gotten the hat on a trip to the coast to visit his aunt and uncle. They were always giving him gifts. As a child he'd loved them more than he'd loved his own parents, a love that eventually turned to shame the more he grew to dislike his parents. He'd grabbed the hat along with the one small duffle bag of stuff he cared anything about—his coolest shirts and surfer shorts, some books Sheila'd given him, and a couple of giant moonshells—when his parents had “recommended” he move out. “We just can't take it,” his mother'd said, meaning, we don't want to be responsible for your baby. He should have been glad his life with them was over, but instead he'd hated himself for not leaving sooner, hated himself for waiting until he'd gotten his high school girlfriend pregnant and moved out only by default.

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