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“ N o w a n d T h e n”
H
By
Steve
Fielder
Steve Fielder retired from a 33 year career in which he directed coonhound programs at
the sport’s three largest registries, AKC, PKC and UKC. Steve, accompanied by his Plott
dog, Hoss, writes from his cabin in the mountains of Western North Carolina and the
beaches of southern Florida.
is father, farmer
and local politician Alonzo P.
and his mother Nancy
no doubt raised Guy
Beeman the way thousands of boys were
raised in the early years
of
twentieth-century
America, on the family farm. History does not attribute
famous deeds to Guy and his name would otherwise go
unnoticed to this writer but for two things. He wrote a
story that was published in 1924 in a compilation of coon
hunting stories previously published in the then popular
Hunter-Trader-Trapper magazine and he lived in Newberg
Township in Cass County, Michigan. Whether or not his
family approved of this coon hunting ways is not known.
He was 39 years of age when he wrote his story and was by
all considerations, his own man. His father was a prominent figure in local politics having served as treasurer for
his township and for Cass County, as a director on the
school board for eighteen years and as the commander of
the Jones, Michigan chapter of the Grand Army of the
Republic (G.A.R.). Because his published story of a coon
hunt with a pair of grade coonhounds named Fanny and
Jack took place in a location familiar to me, Guy Beeman
became the catalyst for the historical journey I invite you
take with me this month that will give us a glimpse of coon
hunting nearly one hundred years ago.
I hunted raccoons in Cass County and neighboring Van
Buren County, Michigan from January of 1983 until the
first week of November, 2004, a period of nearly twenty-
two years. Most of my hunting was done in Van Buren,
County, southwest of the City of Kalamazoo and just
northeast of Jones where Guy Beeman lived. I moved my
family to the area to assume the job of field operations
manager for the United Kennel Club. This was thirty-two
years ago. The terrain is typical upper Midwest farm country with grain crops, wetlands and plenty of hardwood timber. The years I hunted there were the best of my coon
hunting life.
No doubt things have changed in this sport significantly
over those thirty-two years and even more so over the 100year span from Beeman’s story until today. Foremost
would be the rapid change in technology that is now inseparably interwoven into the sport. When I moved to the area
I was yet to experience the use of an electronic locating
device. No one else had one for that matter. My hound
locator was a hollowed out cow horn worn across my upper
body via a leather strap. My hounds were trained to
answer the horn and to come in when they heard the
mournful sound. My light source was a 4-volt Wheat wet
cell mining light purchased at a flea market in the southern West Virginia and my boots were nine-eyelet imported
rubber boots purchased at the local K Mart for five dollars
a pair. I bought my first pair of hip boots, heavy green rubber affairs with molded white soles and bearing the Coon
Hunter brand at the tops after my first attempt to negotiate those Michigan swamps in the ankle-high imports I
wore back home. But that’s enough about me. Let your
imagination free wheel back to the spring of 1918, just
eight months before the close of World War I, as the raccoon season in Michigan is coming to a close.
Before we take a look at the components of Guy’s story for
the purpose of comparison to the time of our own experiences, can we collectively agree that storytelling is a lost
art to coon hunters of today? Stories such as that of Guy
Beeman have given way to play-by-play accounts of one or
two-hour scorecard contests and that’s not surprising for
indeed that’s what the sport of coon hunting has become.
The sister publication to American Cooner, Full Cry was
once ripe with the renderings of O.L. Beckham, Obe Cory
and myriad other writers that could twist a coon hunting
yarn like a ranch hand’s lariat and leave the reader begging for just one more turn of the page. I’m showing my
age here but I’ll admit when the competition fire was burning hot within my chest, I shunned the literary side of the
magazines in favor of stud ads and winner’s shots. Now
that the fire has been contained, I covet those old stories
like an expectant mother craves a dill pickle.
Let’s permit our imaginations to take over for a moment.
I can see Guy and his friend Bert walking out to the barn
after supper and evening chores were done to pull the oiled
canvas tarp off the Model T Ford Guy bought new for $360,
the advertised price, two years earlier. The Model T was
introduced in March of 1908 at a price of $850 which was
increased to $950 by 1910. The price Guy paid, less than
half the original figure was made possible by a reduction in
production costs due to the moving assembly line that
Henry Ford introduced at the Highland Park, Michigan
Ford plant five years earlier in 1913. Coon hunters in
Guy’s day normally walked to the woods because they
hunted on either family lands or those of their adjacent
neighbors. But the coon hunters may have been among the
limited numbers of people living in America that had the
luxury of driving to their hunts, largely in Tin Lizzies as
the Model T Ford automobile was called in those days. The
book, Cooning With Cooners, in which Guy’s story appears,
has several accounts of coon hunts taken in Model T’s. The
Model T was the all-round multipurpose vehicle because it
could easily transverse rutted farm lanes, climb hills, and
assume the role of ATV and tractor. Some farmers removed
a tire, attached a belt to the hub and used the wheel as a
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At different times during the past two years the story would
come to Bert Simmons and I how some coon hunters had
been after a large coon, but after a long, hard chase he had
fooled them.
Just before law closed in March, 1918, Bert came down
with his coon dog, Queen. I unchained Ed, Fanny and Jack,
and we were soon in the woods. It was an ideal night for
coon. It had rained and stayed cloudy.
We had not gone far until they opened on a hot trail. After
a short run they treed and we soon had a nice male coon.
We hunted until twelve, and had, besides the coon, two
skunk. We were almost home and I was telling Bert how
near dead I was when his Queen opened on a hot track.
Fanny and Jack were soon in and they started for the Mills
Pond, three quarters of a mile away.
Just then Bert called and said he had found some coon
tracks. I went to him and found a track larger than usual. The
dogs were running him at a good fox clip.
When we got to the pond he had been in, also on every
tree for ten rods along shore. Jack was up in an old leaning
tree and said, “Treed.” Queen and Fanny were not sure
enough to sit down and say, “Boys, it’s up to you now to
shake him out.”
We could not locate him, so took them and circled the
pond. When we were almost back they all opened on the
trail where he had left one of the trees. He went back almost
over the ground where he came down for three-quarters of
a mile, dogs running hard and well bunched.
Talk about music. Fanny and Queen chopping it and Jack’s
long clear voice did sound good on the midnight air to two
tired coonhunters. They went almost one mile then he
swung east for about a half mile for another large pond. I
could not see how he could make it – but he did.
It is a large pond full of water and brush. For full one hour
he stayed in – would not tree or come out. At last he left and
Fanny was pushing him. She was soon joined by Queen
and Jack. They had gone perhaps forty rods when Jack
began pushing ahead. In a few moments we heard him say,
“I’ve got you, old boy.”
It was his second coon and he is game, but believe me he
sure got some beating before help came. They were too
late, for he was in the water again. But the pond looked too
small to the old boy for him and three hounds. He got out
and got a start but Jack caught him again and his head and
ears looked next morning as though he had been kicked by
a hay feeder.
He got away and through some wire fences and made for
the large pond again, when within about four rods of it he
treed on an old basswood tree, about ten feet from the
ground – there was a crack in it.
To close will say at 6 o’clock we were going home with a
poor old coon. Some of his teeth were gone and he measured fifty inches from tip to tip.
FANNY AND JACK
Owned by A.G. Beeman
Cass County, Michigan
power take off to run saw mills and other forms of rudimentary machinery. However they traveled, they were
lucky to be healthy enough to go hunting in the midst of
the national pandemic of influenza that was sweeping the
nation in that day.
After removing the tarp, starting the Model T could be an
interesting affair. First, a preliminary check of oil and
water levels was accomplished. A mixture of 30 to 40 percent wood alcohol was added to the radiator to prevent
freezing in Michigan’s cold winters. Before he used the
hand crank located in the front of the car below the radiator to start the engine, Guy would have climbed into the
driver’s seat and made sure the emergency brake/neutral
lever on the floor to the left of the steering wheel was all
the way back and the rear brakes were set. He didn’t want
the car to run over him when he turned the crank to start
the engine. He would have made sure the spark adjust
lever to the left below the steering wheel was moved to the
“retard spark” position and he would have moved the
throttle lever, found below and to the right of the steering
wheel, to approximately ¼ of the way down.Up is neutral
and all the way down is as fast as the car will go. He
checked the Magneto/Off/Battery switch on the dash panel
to see that it was in the “off” position. Stepping to the front
of the Model T, Guy pulled the wire ring that served as the
hand choke, found at the lower left corner of the radiator,
all the way out. With the battery/magneto switch still in
the “off” position, he turned the crank a couple of turns
until he reached a point just past compression. He then
turned the switch to the “battery” setting and the coils
began to buzz. Sometimes the engine would start without
further cranking but this time, due to cold weather, an
additional single, careful turn was necessary. He cupped
his fingers and thumb of his right hand to one side of the
handle, being careful not to grip the handle for fear the
handle would kick back and break a finger or thumb. He
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ratcheted the handle to the down position and pulled
sharply up to compression and the 177-cubic inch four
cylinder engine sprang to life. We’ll assume Guy had cobbled together some form of a dog box out of vegetable crate
slats although in all the photos I’ve seen of Model T’s on
coon hunts, I’ve never seen one with a dog box. He and Bert
would have then loaded Fanny, Jack and Queen for the
coming hunt. He mentioned a dog named Ed at the beginning of his story but nothing more was revealed about this
dog as the story progressed. Michigan weather in March
can be iffy at best but Guy and Bert came upon a bit of luck
in that they had a dark, damp night for their hunt.
Illumination for the night’s hunt would have come from a
kerosene lantern. Likely the lantern they used was manufactured by Dietz in either New York City or most likely, in
Syracuse, New York. It may have been of the Little Wizard
design that was introduced three years earlier in January
of 1914 or perhaps the D-Lite model introduced in 1912,
five years before the hunt. The Dietz motto was "A
Maximum of Light with a Minimum of Care." The lantern
would have produced approximately 200 hours of 9-candlepower-bright walking light on a gallon of K1 kerosene.
Kerosene at the time of the hunt was running about 15.2
cents per gallon. A gallon of kerosene would have provided
nearly seventeen dusk-to-dawn nights of hunting at a cost
of less than a penny a night.
Perhaps the gun they carried to dispatch coons from the
numerous hardwoods of the area was an old .22 caliber
Winchester fall block-actioned “Winder Musket” nicknamed for its founder, Col. C.B. Winder and manufactured
by Winchester after buying the patent and manufacturing
rights from John Browning in 1883, thirty-five years before
our story. The rifle would have been chambered for either
.22 short or .22 Long Rifle and would have weighed a hefty
eight and a half pounds. Or if they were lucky, they may
have had the upscale Remington Model 12 pump repeater,
introduced in 1908. Coon were very scarce in that day and
a hunt in which two coon were caught, even though it took
all night to do so, was a very good hunt indeed.
We’ve come a long way in the nearly one-hundred years
since Guy Beeman’s story. We even have remote start buttons for our vehicles.We’ve made progress in many ways
but it hasn’t come without considerable price. Hunting territory was virtually unlimited in Guy’s day although coons
were much more scarce back then. Raccoon populations,
due to the reduction in hunters and available lands on
which to hunt have burgeoned since that damp, dark night
in 1918. Technology and the American farmer’s industry to
produce grain crops at record levels across the heartland
produce an unlimited food source for all creatures great
and small. While Guy and Bert’s monetary investment in
the hunt consisted at most of a three-hundred dollar automobile, a lantern that sold for .35 cents, and a firearm that
cost five dollars or less, today’s coon hunter invests what
Guy and his partner would consider to be a king’s ransom
when compared to the cost of things in their day.
Four-door crew cab pickups easily top $40 grand. The diamond plate dog box costs $800 and the GPS tracking system another seven or eight hundred and on and on. It costs
$2.50 or more to move that 4 x 4 pickup fifteen miles down
the road. Coonhound puppies cost as much as the Model T
Guy drove and commercial dog food costs more for a 40-
pound bag than Guy and Bert had wrapped up in their
entire hunting outfit, gun, light, boots and all.
Perhaps more than the monetary differences in coon
hunting today and in the early twentieth century is the
quality of the hunt itself. In other words, I believe Guy
Beeman enjoyed coon hunting in ways today’s hunters no
longer appreciate or understand. I’ll explain.
In all the accounts of final fours published in coonhound
publications do you recall an account of a good race lasting
even thirty minutes not to mention an hour or more such
as recounted by Guy Beeman? Races of this nature were
common years ago. I recall one such race in a 100-acre
cornfield along Hoffman Road in St. Joseph County,
Michigan in the 1980’s in which the dogs ran the coon into
a hole in the cornfield after a non-stop one-hour race.
Mark Blount, the originator of the custom-built dog box
and my friend Robert Gallentine from West Virginia were
my companions on this hunt and we had four coonhounds,
two Plotts, a Treeing Walker and an English Coonhound in
the race. You could have covered all four hounds with a
blanket for the entire race. Why don’t coons run like this
today? Has the soft living and abundant food supply created a generation of lazy raccoons? Has living in close proximity to man reduced the fear factor that drove raccoons in
Guy’s experience to literally run for their lives while coons
today leisurely take the first available tree when hearing a
coonhound bark? Are the “bucket” coon passing this behavior on to their offspring?
Furthermore, have the one and two-hour competition
hunts produced a one or two-hour hunter? Is that time
frame considered the norm now when in Guy’s day, a dusk
to dawn walk over torturous terrain was more common
than not? Have today’s coon hunters gone soft under the
influence of convenience and technology? I believe the
answer to both questions is an unequivocal yes. I know
that I am not the hunter I used to be. I have an excuse as
I edge nearer to my three-score and ten years of life and I
know if I’m not doing it I have no right to criticize anyone
else. There’s really no crime in taking advantage of the
technology and the advances in convenience that we have
at our finger tips today. We would be foolish not to do so.
But, I can’t help but think that Guy and Bert, riding in a
Model T, carrying a kerosene lantern, and hunting from
sun to sun, had more fun and that’s really what this sport
is supposed to be all about.
I have the old Remington Model 41 bolt action single-shot
rifle that my dad and his brothers bought in the 1930’s. I
can buy a current model of the Dietz Little Wizard
kerosene lantern online for less than thirty dollars and a
gallon of kerosene for about $3.50. I may just leave the
electronic devices on the shelf and get my buddies together this fall for a retro coon hunt, ala 1918. Maybe we can
recreate the magic of hunting in simpler times. Progress
can be a wonderful thing or it can change our lives in ways
we never expected or may not appreciate. As I ponder our
sport, now and then, I believe Guy Beeman just may have
had the better idea.
Thanks for reading.
1. Guy Beeman, “Cooning With Fanny And Jack,” in
Cooning With Cooners (The Hunter-Trader-Trapper,
Columbus, Ohio, 1924), 95-97.