James Daniel Crawford - Crawford Pioneers of Steamboat Springs

Transcription

James Daniel Crawford
June 23, 1908 – July 28, 1975
In Memory on his Centennial Birthday
By James Logan Crawford
Copyright 2008
by
James Logan Crawford
Last Modified June 30, 2014
www.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
Table of Contents
Chapter
Page
FOREWORD.....................................................................................iii
1
John and Minnie Crawford..................................................................1
2
Steamboat Springs, Colorado..............................................................9
3
Boulder, Colorado.............................................................................17
4
California..........................................................................................29
5
Albuquerque, New Mexico...............................................................37
6
Poston, Arizona.................................................................................47
7
Belcourt, North Dakota.....................................................................71
8
Keams Canyon, Arizona...................................................................79
9
Poplar, Montana................................................................................95
10
Billings, Montana – 1128 N. 32 St..................................................107
11
Billings, Montana – 3801 War Bonnet Trail...................................129
Appendix
1
Grandfather’s Stories For Michelle.................................................147
ii
Foreward
Following a Chinese custom, I wrote a short biography of Lulita Crawford Pritchett for her 100-year anniversary, and knew I would do the same
for my father. However the task became larger than I anticipated, and one
week away from his birthday, I still have 30 more years of his life to document.
It has been interesting to piece together what I can of Dad’s early life.
I’ve written this book for all of Dad’s descendants. The four of us children
who grew up with Dad will find plenty of material in here to stir up old
memories; the rest of you who never knew Dad will hopefully learn who
he was and how over his life he exhibited leadership and responsibility in
his work, loving care in his family, and a vast knowledge of the outdoors
that came with growing up in a pioneer family.
I have used a lot of different sources to compile this book: photographs, letters, diaries, notebooks, newspapers, interviews, memorabilia,
school yearbooks, official Bureau of Indian Affairs correspondence, and
personal recollections. Most helpful were the thousands of photographs in
albums and shoe boxes, and the hundreds of letters. I only found a couple
dozen letters written by Dad before 1950, but had scores of letters written
by Mom and even more written to Dad by his parents. His little notebooks
provided key information about college life and his road trips. I found
newspaper articles in the Steamboat Pilot, Lakeport Bee, Billings Gazette,
and Denver Post. My wife, Anna, found in a Cornell University library,
transcripts of two interviews Dad gave while at Poston.
There are more puzzles and more information that should someday be
looked at. I have not found yearbooks for Dad’s last two years in high
school. The Hayden Library at ASU at Tempe contains boxes about Poston in the Wade Head collection. Both the Orradre Library at Santa Clara
University and the UC Berkeley Bancroft Library contain microfilm of
camp newspapers. The federal archives contain personnel records and correspondence for Dad’s years with the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The Mormon Church might have records of Dad’s membership in the 1930s, such
as where he lived in San Francisco. And there are more memorabilia and
memories that my siblings have that they may add to the stories here.
I hope those who read this book are glad they did.
Jim Crawford
Father’s Day, 2008
iii
John Daniel, James Daniel, and Minnie May Crawford about 1912
Minnie and John about 1930
iv
1. John and Minnie Crawford
Dad was born June 23, 1908, but his story really starts with the story
of his parents. After all, everybody wants to know how a person’s parents
met since if they didn’t meet.… It is also important to know what the parents did and how they died, to understand the factors that influenced the
child’s life.
Dad’s father, John Daniel Crawford, was born February 8, 1873 to
James H. and Margaret E. Crawford on their farm near Sedalia, Missouri.
Three months later the family traveled by covered wagon to Denver and
eventually northwest Colorado, where they founded the town of Steamboat Springs. The story of the pioneering years of the Crawfords has been
told numerous times in the Steamboat Pilot, in Tread of Pioneers by
Charles Leckenby, and in numerous books by John's niece, Lulita Crawford Pritchett, including John Daniel Crawford in the Great Good Old
Days. John spent his early years hunting, fishing, and guiding into the
mountains, and helping with the Crawford cattle and horses. In 1893-94,
he lived in Sedalia with his Uncle John while he went to business school.
In the fall of 1894 he was back in Steamboat Springs, living in the Crawford frame house while the Crawford stone house was built.
Dad's mother, Minnie May Welch, was born October 19, 1874 to
Charles F. and Dorothy L. Welch on their farm near Beloit, Kansas. Both
Charles and Dorothy were born in Massachusetts. Charles fought in the
Civil War in the 18th Infantry Regiment of NH Volunteers, then followed
the railroads west in 1868 to Kansas where he married Dorothy and they
had two children, Minnie in 1874 and Grace in 1881. The family moved
to Denver in the late 1880s where Charles worked as a clerk for the B&M
railroad. Unlike the pioneer Crawfords in Steamboat who made a large impact on the history of northwest Colorado, the Welchs lived a quiet, meager life in the North Denver/Highlands area, first at 1446 Platte St. for 3 or
4 years, and then several blocks away at 347 Mary St. (now named
Umatilla St.). Minnie graduated from North Highlands High School in
1893. In August she was granted a third grade certificate that allowed her
to teach in the public schools of Arapahoe County. Her first job was to
teach in the small town of Arickaree, Colorado, 120 miles due east of
Denver (now where county road LL meets US36, population 152). At this
point her parents and Grace moved a couple of blocks to 213 Bigler St.
(now named W. 31st Ave). After a year in Arickaree, Minnie got a teaching job in Steamboat Springs in the fall of 1894.
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1873
1874
1876
1878
1880
John Daniel Crawford
1882
1886
We fortunately have two letters Minnie wrote to her family from
Steamboat Springs, and two letters her father wrote to her. The first letter
from Minnie was written two days before Thanksgiving, and is 30 pages
long. She wrote about her life in Steamboat and mentioned a number of pioneers such as the Crawfords, Burgesses, Suttles, Brooks, Metcalfs, Monsons, and Woolerys. She boarded with the Woolery family, including 13year old Clara who married Logan Crawford in 1899. Two of the Monson
boys were among the best scholars in her class, brothers of Jim Monson,
John Crawford's best friend. She mentioned the Crawford family several
times:
“Before the singing we had a meeting of the programme committee. They put me on that, as chairman at first but a great many advised me not to accept that position as it was the worst thing for they
quarrel so and I didn't want such a prominent position so now Mr.
Crawford is chairman, you know Crawfords are the friends of
Richards and the oldest settlers in the town probably the most important....
“I am going to sing in a sextette tomorrow at church (Thanksgiving), with Mr. Crawford, Mrs. Brooks, Mr. Metcalf, Mr. Brooks and
Laura Monson....
“Mr. Crawfords are very queer people but I like them ever so
much from the 2 boys or young men Logan & John, up to Mr. Crawford. Mr. Gun, Mr. Woolery, Mrs. Woolery (boarding mistress) and
myself went up there one evening and stayed until 10:30 sang and
played and had a most delightful time. Mary Crawford is 13 yrs. old
she is so nice, and has the most beautiful eyes I do believe I ever
saw, so has Logan though I am not much acquainted with the boys
yet. They have a married sister in Mexico and their house is filled
with trophies and relics from there. And oh the tiger rugs, lion rugs,
mounted deer's heads etc. They are simply grand. Nearly every one
has them here....
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1893
1898
1900
about 1905
1915
John Daniel Crawford
about 1930 about 1940
“I just love Mr. & Mrs. Woolery they are like a father & mother to me.
She told Mrs. Crawford that I was the lovliest girl she ever knew that I
thought everything was lovely etc. and Mrs. Crawford said I appreciated
things so much & Miss Richardson didn't. She ought to know I suppose
for she board Miss R. - I mean Mrs. Crawford did....
“Mrs. Crawford has beautiful flowers also....
“I have been invited to four places for Thanksgiving dinner, Mrs.
Burgesses', Mrs. Suttle's, Mrs. Shaffnit's and Mrs. Crawfords'. Mrs.
Shafnit invited me first so I am going there, at 12 after church then
to Mrs. C at 3 o’clock....
“You see I was just giving Clara her music lesson (for we have
brought the church organ over for this week and I think they will
bring it over every week after church) so I have started her on her
first lesson and we can play a duet together. Mary Crawford has
loaned her a music book and so I am going to practice four hours
every day if I can. The organ is an old fashioned small one and very
much out of tune, but it will do to practice on and Mrs. Crawford
says I may practice on her piano any time I want to.”
We can only guess how John and Minnie’s friendship developed over
that year, but as we learn in a later letter, on May 5th, 1895 they gathered
tulips and watched a sunset from the summit of Woodchuck Mountain. On
the next day, she wrote in his autograph book:
About 1888 about 1890
1899
1900 about 1908 about 1930
Minnie May Welch Crawford
about 1930
“Beautiful Nature! how we love you!
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Never changing always true,
Ever varying always new;
So is our friendship tried and true.
Always your true friend,
Minnie M. Welch
May 6, 1895, Steamboat Springs, Colo.
Woodchuck Mt.---Phil. 4 - 11
She left Steamboat in May to return to Denver, and a month later, John
wrote her a rather formal letter with an enigmatic postscript to it:
Miss Minnie Welch
Denver Colorado
Dear friend, I expect you think I am a fraud. You know I promised you I would send you some pond lillies which I did some time
ago but I addressed the package to you at Highlands Colorado and
I have no idea you ever received it. My mother had lost the letter
from you and we did not know your address. We are having fine
weather and the mountains seem in their prime. We all hope to see
you back among us soon again.
Hoping you will forgive me for my negligence.
I am yours truly
John D. Crawford Jr
Steamboat Springs Colo.
July 14th ’95
P.S. “The tints from the Western horizon” etc. etc.
We have no letters preserved from the following year, but clearly a romance started blossoming. In his letter dated July 20, 1896, he starts out
“My Dear friend” and includes a poem he wrote entitled
“Reminiscences” that ends with the line “For I love them all from pines
to girl.” We have a total of 50 letters written by John to Minnie over the
ten years they knew each other before they were married, and there are
references to even more letters that we no longer have. Sadly, we have
none of Minnie's reply letters to John. His greetings to “Dear friend” and
“My Dear friend” evolved to “My Dearest friend”, “My Dear Minnehaha”, “My Dear Lassie”, and finally “Queneetah”, which he started
using while he was in Mexico. He started closing the letters with “John D.
Crawford Jr.”, but sometimes used “John”, “Jack”, “Laddie” (to go with
Lassie), “Hiawatha” (to go with Minnehaha) and “Juan” (to go with
Queneetah).
Over the next ten years Minnie lived with her family at 3106 Gray St.
4
(now Wyandot St) and taught at the Bryant School at W. 36th Ave and Arlington St (now Shoshone St). We know she visited Steamboat Springs
again in the summer of 1896, Chicago in the summer of 1897, and Salt
Lake City in the summer of 1899.
3106 Gray St
Bryant School
Episcopal Church
John, on the other hand, spent those ten years principally as a miner.
He worked several months around Hahn's Peak in Little Red Park,
Columbine, and the Master Key mine. In 1897 he discovered a copper
vein at Yellow Creek just a few hundred yards from the continental divide.
He got some financial backing from Sedalia relatives, hired a crew of
friends, built a log cabin and lived there over two winters and a summer
while they dug the Sunset Mine tunnel. In 1899 he joined his sister Lulie
in Mexico where he worked in mines for his brother-in-law Carr Pritchett.
He visited Minnie in Denver on his way to and from Mexico. He also
spent February and March of 1903 in Denver with his parents, and saw
Minnie often. He was probably staying with his sister Lulie, who lived
about a dozen blocks from Minnie. A year later he sailed from S.F. to
Hawaii with his parents and sisters. In Steamboat he spent a lot of his time
camping, hunting, fishing, trapping, and mining. He often guided parties
into the mountains and would be gone for two or three weeks at a time.
One interesting question to pose is why John and Minnie took so long
to get married? His letters indicate that he is in love with her almost from
the start, and that they became engaged in 1900. However the one thing
that he lacked was money, in particular money to build a house for them to
live in. He alludes to this in a 1903 letter when he said
“I haven't any house built as yet for you and I but, why couldn't
we take to the mts until we form our plans and then work in double
harness?”
He made some money working in the mines, but not enough to support
a wife: Minnie's salary for the entire school year 1898-9 was $712.50.
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John's salary at the time for working at the Sunset mine was $2 per day.
Even working every day of the year he would have barely made as much
as Minnie (one month he did work 31 days, most winter months were
around 20 days, summer months down to 0 days). He made a little more
money surveying for Carr ($3 per day) during the summer, but he clearly
could not expect to replace her salary, let alone make enough for a family.
That changed in 1904, when the Elkhead Anthracite Coal Company was
sold to a N.Y. syndicate for $200,000. The shares of the Company were
divided by 6 people: JHC, Logan, John, two Denver lawyers, and a Denver investor. John's share was over $30,000. There is no mention of this
money in any of John's letters, but it cannot be a coincidence that by the
fall of 1904 they were discussing when the wedding date should be, and
Minnie chose June 21, 1905 so as to have a double wedding with her sister
Grace at the Episcopal Church just a block from their house.
After the wedding, Minnie moved into John’s room in the stone house.
In Sept. 1906 they bought land and a house for $1500 half a block away,
where they lived the rest of their lives. During this time John both trapped
for furs and worked as a real estate agent for his father, selling off lots in
the Crawford Addition to Steamboat. He platted a new West Side Addition
to Steamboat in 1909, but never sold any lots and eventually rescinded the
Addition in 1942. Around 1910 he ran The Pioneer Bakery along with
John C. Schwenk, but had to close in January of 1912. At this point he
went on a fishing trip with his father and brother to New Orleans. He and
Minnie discussed by letter what he should do to earn a living, and considered moving from Steamboat to someplace that had more jobs. In the
summer he worked on the Pritchett Ranch, and after the fall elections became deputy clerk for Routt County. After 4 years of serving as deputy
clerk, John was elected 14 times as Clerk of Routt County, a career that
lasted longer than any other clerk in Colorado. His salary was $2,100. In
1944 he chose to retire and not seek re-election, but unfortunately instead
of enjoying retirement years hunting and fishing in the high country, always keeping his eye out for a big gold or silver nugget, he died of cancer
less than 3 months after leaving office.
Minnie spent her first couple years of married life getting to know
Steamboat. She was game for camping and hunting and fishing trips to enjoy the mountains John so loved. She spent at least a month in summer of
1906 and another month in summer of 1907 living with her parents in
Denver. Her mother in particular was in poor health, and her father perpetually in debt. In the spring of 1908 Minnie stayed at home most of the
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time preparing for the coming child. She wrote 16 letters to her parents
just in the month of March. She was obviously excited to be pregnant and
as always with a very humble but positive outlook toward life.
When Dad was born Minnie became the devoted Mother that she
would be all of her life. When John became County Clerk she was hired to
do “clerical work” for the clerk‘s office. The 1920 census lists her as
“Deputy Clerk”. In looking through the large Grantor and Grantee indexes
still housed in the court house, I found it easy to spot the months that Minnie was working by her beautiful flowing handwriting with lots of curves
for every capital letter. The earliest entries were made by her in 1920, and
came in bunches until 1930 when they were all in her handwriting. The
last entry was written on Aug 30, 1931. On September 1, Minnie went
with her sister Grace to Beloit, where she died of breast cancer 5 months
later.
One puzzling question that arises in John and Minnie’s life is why
they only had one child. Minnie’s parents had two and her sister had two.
John’s parents had four and his oldest sister had two. From Minnie’s letters she obviously enjoyed being a parent, and I would assume she would
have wanted another child. I do not know for sure, but think the answer to
this question probably involved John’s brother Logan and his wife Clara.
After having one healthy child, Leola, Clara went through multiple childbirths only to have each child die in childbirth or within weeks. This is the
classic pattern when the mother is rh- but all of the children are rh+. Perhaps Minnie and John, observing the anguish that Logan and Clara went
through and not knowing the cause (doctors did not know about the rh
factor until 1937), decided to avoid trying to have another child.
Minnie milking cows, skiing, and camping at Yellow Creek 1905-6
7
.
8
2. Steamboat Springs, Colorado
An 8½ pound boy arrived at the John Crawford home yesterday
morning and there is corresponding joy in the household. Grandpa
and Grandma Crawford are also well pleased, for this is the first
grandson in the family.
This announcement appeared in the June 24, 1908 Steamboat Pilot.
Dad lived in the house in which he was born for 18 years, plus a couple
more years after college. Except for a few photographs and some letters
his mother wrote, we know little about his early years. Undoubtedly they
were filled with a lot of attention from many doting relatives, as befitting
an only child. Here are some excerpts from Minnie’s letters:
1/1/1910…Baby is fine fat
well and healthy cutting teeth
back ones like every thing, and
walking all around. I wean ed
him entirely Dec 23, 18 mo. old
and if I’d known ‘twas so easy
I’d have done it last summer and
saved lots of trouble to us all. He
cried like a Trojan at first but
not very much when I refused to
give it to him then I talked with
him and finally put him in his
Dad with his parents August 1908
little bed alone after he’d cried
awhile longer I cuddled him in my arms in our bed and slipped his
hand in and he went to sleep. The next two nights he made a little
fuss but not much and after the 3rd night no trouble at all and he
sleeps generally all night now.
2/13/1910 … Every minute he learns. And he’s quite a little helper – shuts doors, picks up things etc. and understands nearly
everything we say to him. He just walks fine everywhere and he
doesn’t get into mischief because I keep him busy with plenty of
playthings dealt out wisely so they seem new to him. And he obeys
beautifully and is as stubborn as a __ mule but I’m very careful to
use tact generally so we get along lovely. He’s so jolly and laughs
out loud and is as happy and healthy as any one would wish. I curl
his hair every other day and he looks like a great big lovely doll
only lovelier. He’s so fat & plump and rosy cheeks double chin
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dimple and 3 double back teeth.... It’s an ideal place for babies. I
have a girl to do the work and we just live on the big sunny porch
and have mountains of fun.
4/5/1910…Baby Boy is out in the
sunshine playing. He just loves to be
out from early morn ‘til dark and usually is when ‘tis pleasant except 4½
hours in middle of day when he takes
his bath and nap. My how he is growing. You’ll just love him all to pieces.
He’s so jolly and happy and full of
Dad with baby bears
fun and always wants to help. I really
use up lots of time just playing with him and enjoying him & watching him & loving him. But then at the rate he’s going he’ll soon be a
big boy and off to school – oh dear – I hate to think of it.
1/17/1912… He’s been just as good as gold – Never cries, never
gets sick and plays for hours with 1st this boy & that. Yesterday he
sewed colors and made a fine house all himself as outlined in some
kindergarten work… Jamie says “Tell Papa I was a good boy and
when he comes here we’ll have a hug and kiss for him.”
The following letter is an early indication of the coughs Dad had all
his life:
1/26/1912… He coughed so much and hard and breathed so
short and quick and hard he couldn’t sleep. But I kept his chest
greased with turpentine & lard and have brought him out alright.
He’s much improved now only
woke up once last night. I’ve
used vaseline, onion syrup,
olive oil, mollasses & camphor
regularly hot foot baths, lemonade, hoar hound candy and
frog in throats in between. All
of which have helped in their
way but the turpentine proved
best for both of us.
Dad on his sled
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Dad, his mother and sometimes his father traveled a lot during the
winter: Denver to visit Minnie’s parents and the Pritchetts; Beloit, Kansas
to visit Minnie’s sister Grace and sons Rex and Glen; Indianola, Iowa to
visit Minnie’s Aunt Frances; and Sedalia, Missouri to visit John’s Uncle
Grant and Aunt Annie. All of these relatives came to Steamboat during the
summer. Dad’s grandparents and Aunt Mary lived just down the street,
and Uncle Logan, Aunt Clara, and Leola lived just outside Steamboat.
Lulita Pritchett was 2 years older than Dad, and Rex and Glen Pagett were
1 and 2 years younger than Dad. These three were the closest Dad had to
siblings. Dad said he and his mother would go to Beloit every summer, but
that his father usually made some excuse about having too much work to
leave for such a long time. As Dad put it, who would want to leave beautiful Steamboat for a few weeks on the hot plains of Kansas. But Rex and
Glen and their father Roy didn’t mind at all coming to Steamboat.
1909
1912
Both Margaret and Lulita Pritchett kept an occasional diary; we have
one which Margaret wrote for a month in 1917, and one Lulita wrote for 9
months in 1921. Margaret wrote on her birthday, July 11th, “Uncle John &
Aunt Minnie couldn’t come on account of the extra War business, but
Jamie came so nicely ‘fixed up’ in his new overalls & shirt & tie.” Lulita
reported that “Jamie” or “Jimmy”, as he was called growing up, went to
the movies with her on March 29th; brought rhubarb, peanuts, and chewing
gum to the ranch on June 1st; had chicken pox on June 8th; went to Aunt
Mary’s on July 5th with the Pritchetts and Grandma; went fishing on July
23rd with Uncle John, Lulita, and Margaret; went back to Aunt Mary’s on
July 31st with Roger Butler; came to the ranch Aug 6th; and went to Denver
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with grandma and Aunt Mary from Aug 9th to Aug 20th .
Roger Butler was Dad’s best friend. He
was Dad’s age but three years behind in
school. The Butlers lived behind Dad on The
Boulevard. Dad’s other neighbors included the
George Merrill family (two houses to the east
with three sons older than Dad; the wife of
George’s son Marcellus was one of the creators
of the “Women’s Gold” tapestry in 1976 that
now hangs in the State Capitol and included
Margaret Crawford on it); the Art Wessell
family (house to the east, son Lynn was considered a sissy but had a bike that Dad liked to
ride); the Jim Norvell family (across the street,
mayor in 1914 and the richest man in SteamDad and cousins Rex and
boat for awhile); and the Dr. Benjamin L. JefGlen Pagett, October 10,
ferson family (house to the west, State Senator
1914
and candidate for governor in 1908, attended Minnie when Dad was born).
I met Roger Butler twice: once in Billings and once in 1988 in Steamboat. He confirmed then that he was a participant in one of Dad’s favorite
stories about putting a cow in the school bell tower on Halloween. A lot of
the stories Dad would tell us in Billings around the dinner table came from
his boyhood years in Steamboat. Fortunately, a dozen of them were transcribed by Sharon as Dad told them, and can be found in Appendix 1,
Grandfather’s Stories For Michelle. They are worth reading to learn more
about Dad’s early years.
Dad, Aunt Mary, and his mother, late 1910s
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Dad on the Pritchett ranch with cousins Lulita and Margaret, about 1921
Dad went to the Steamboat Springs public schools. His report cards
show mixed results. In the lower years his grades averaged out to B’s but
bounced up and down from month to month, showing more a lack of effort
than a lack of ability. He got a few D’s spread over all of the subjects, although 5 out of his 27 D’s were in October of 6 th grade when he was absent 6 days, and another 5 were for “Deportment” in 3 rd grade. He never
got another D in Deportment, and even ended up in 7 th and 8th grades getting all A’s and B’s in Deportment.
In High School Dad’s grades were more consistent and varied by subject rather than by month. He got mainly D’s in 10th grade History, English, and Latin, and even got an E once in Latin. One month he got only
A’s (Geometry, Zoology, and Music) and D’s (History, English, and Latin). He got no lower than A’s and B’s in Gym, Music, Glee Club, Journalism, Manual Training, Business English, Social Science, Trig, and Zoology but only C’s and D’s in Spanish II and Latin. Dad had poor eyewww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
13
sight, but did not wear glasses until college; perhaps this affected his
grades.
Dad with friend at Steamboat
swimming pool, early 1920s
Dad played at least one year of football
and basketball, and swam in the town pool
where he earned his Red Cross lifesaver’s
certificate and was a life guard during the
summers. He was a Boy Scout starting on
his 12th birthday, and was involved in
Scouting all his life. He was in the drama
club, and in his sophomore year acted in
two class plays. In his senior year he was
the secretary/treasurer of his class. At least
for his senior year, three girls lived at the
Crawford home: Ruth, Beulah, and Alice.
Dad sent Ruth a letter a year later in which
he addressed her as “Dear little sister”.
In addition to his formal schooling, Dad received an excellent education in the outdoors fishing, hunting, trapping, camping, and horseback
riding. Even though the Crawfords lived in town, barely a quarter mile
away from the main street, they also raised chickens, cows, horses, and
dogs, and could easily walk to four different fishing streams in under half
an hour. Letters constantly mentioned eating fish that Dad and others had
just caught, as though it was as common as going to a grocery store.
Dad made his spending money by trapping. His father wrote in a letter
to Lulie March 8, 1916, “Jimmy goes snow shoeing [skiing] pretty often,
he has box trap set for jack rabbits and a couple of steel traps out for
weasels”. One year Dad kept a detailed log of his traps in two small
notebooks. He set out his first traps
on Oct 29, and had entries until Dec
3. At the end of the second notebook he recorded what he had shot
with his ’22 automatic: 4 grouse, 6
porcupine, 1st bear, half pound
trout, 3 snowshoe rabbits, 3 pine
Furs trapped by Dad and his
squirrels, and 1 S. weasel. Here is
father
his entry for one of the traps:
14
Date Set–Nov 10 Kind–Weasel Trap–No 0
In quaker grove just before going through pass under
large dead quaker tree on bank of creek from pass.
Date
Catch
Remarks
Nov. 16
Rabbits close
Nov. 20
1 M. Weasel
Nov. 25
After nite
Nov. 29
Rabbits there
Dec. 3
W. Close.
These two notebooks were among the first of many
notebooks Dad wrote all his life. He always had one Dad about 1926
handy. Most were unused bank books, week-of-themonth books, or plain lined pads small enough to fit in a shirt pocket. In
this regard he took after his father, although most of his father’s were diaries or ledgers of expenses or real estate transactions. Dad’s on the other
hand were school or work notes, or car trip mileages and expenses. Many
of Dad’s books are nearly illegible. This was one of Dad’s dichotomies:
on the one hand he had a beautiful signature that never varied his entire
life, and he was always very clear and neat when he printed, especially
tables like his trapping log. But his quick notational scrawl was terrible
and very hard to interpret, especially for his car trips.
Dad graduated from Steamboat Springs High School on May 27th,
1926. I don’t recognize the names of any of his friends in the list of 27
graduates, but there are a number of names from the early pioneer families: J. Homer Groesbeck, Albert Leckenby, Julia L. Stanko, and Claude and
John A. Utterback. On June 9 Dad was
given a Student’s Certificate for proficiency in rapid legible business writing
given by A. N. Palmer. Then Dad attended a summer course held in Steamboat
by the State Normal Institute and on August 14th obtained his Teacher’s Certificate, good for 2 years in the public schools
in Routt County. However he instead emDad and cousins Leola Crawford, barked on the next big chapter of his life:
the University of Colorado.
Margaret and Lulita Pritchett,
around 1925
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16
3. Boulder, Colorado
Dad enrolled in the University of Colorado in the fall of 1926. The
first year he took Chemistry, English, History, and Algebra, and swam
three times a week. He stayed with Mrs. W. W. Reed at 2044 Walnut St.
(photo on facing page), and had to perform chores such as shoveling and
feeding the furnace. We have 10 letters written by Dad during his college
years, four during his first year. In contrast, we have over 100 letters
written to Dad during college, of which only one was during his first year
and only two during his third year. Dad was addressed as “Jamie” by his
mother and grandmother, “Jimmie” by his grandfather and cousin Margaret, and “Jim” by his father, cousin Lulita, and friends.
Mrs. Reed
Paul Mullins
Toshio
Tsunekuwa
Wheeler Family
Mrs. Wheeler upper right
We know considerably more about Dad during his second year, during
which he received over 45 letters and wrote a diary between January 1 and
June 20. He lived at Mrs. Wheeler’s “little brown house”, although his
mail was addressed to the Registrar’s Office. He shared a room with Paul
Mullins, but his best friend was Arthur Anderson, who had a car and
whose parents lived somewhere near Steamboat. There were a half dozen
boarders at Mrs. Wheeler’s, and she provided meals as well as rooms. One
of the other boarders was Toshio Tsunekuwa, an engineering student from
Japan who once gave Dad a photo of himself signed on the back “To my
best friend Jim Crawford”. Dad started the year taking crystallography,
mineralogy, psychology, Spanish, and P.E.; however he soon dropped
Spanish, and added Geology after Christmas. His Sundays were spent
working up to 3 hours, attending the Methodist Church, and studying. He
also worked some in the evenings, but he never said what his job was. At
times he ushered at the theater, but his main job seems to have included
17
answering phone calls. He often worked Paul’s
hours when Paul was busy. He attended scout
meetings at the Episcopal Church. At one point he
attended Glee Club and thought about joining. He
also played his banjo, which he had bought in
1926 for $65.00 from Chas. E. Wells Music Co. in
Denver, with monthly installment payments of
$5.50. He made his last payment February 1928.
He studied a lot during the week and got 80 –
100 on all of his quizzes. On weekends he often
watched the sports teams: football, wrestling, basketball, track, and swimming. Dad swam several
Probably 1927
times a week, but never quite made the varsity
swim team. One week he almost got to swim in the meet, but the sick
swimmer ahead of him recovered in time. In May he taught Red Cross
swimming classes at the pool. He was certified as
an “Examiner of the American Red Cross Life
Saving Corps” from June 8, 1927 until at least
January of 1930.
1927 at Steamboat pool
Dad spent Thanksgiving at the Pritchett home
in Denver, two weeks at Christmas back in
Steamboat, and spring break at the Hiking Club
house party. Occasionally he was invited to eat at
the Maxwells or the Cheneys, both family friends
of the Crawfords from pioneer days. In the spring
he got trench mouth; his lips, gums, and throat
were sore for a couple of weeks and he lost
weight, which in January had been 149 lbs.
He mentioned several girlfriends in his diary: Leona, Emogene
(Peach), Louise, Billie, Helen, and Ruth Taylor. He received and wrote
letters to Leona and Peach, called Leona on the phone and sent them both
candy for Valentines Day. Billie was a blind date who he took to several
sports events. Helen he took home from the library in the evenings, sometimes stopping at the drug store and sometimes talking late. He had library
dates with Ruth, and the week of April 22 he took her out for Sunday supper, went with her to the Women’s Club dance on Friday, and spent Saturday with her at the A.S.U.C. (Associated Students of the University of
Colorado) lodge from 10 until 5:40. The following week he took Helen
18
out to dinner, wrote Peach, called up Leona, and took Ruth to the Booster
Club vaudeville show. The last week in May he had five dates with
Louise, and still managed to also see Helen.
He also mentioned going on hikes with U.C.H.C. (University of Colorado Hiking Club) starting in March of 1928: Flat Irons, Devil’s Thumb,
and South Arapahoe. He was initiated into the club on May 26. This became his biggest non-academic activity during his remaining time in college. We will return to this activity later.
In November of 1927,
Dad wrote his parents that
he was thinking of joining
the National Guard. His parents told him they would
support whatever his decision was, but his father
was definitely against it,
saying the three-year commitment could interfere with
his graduating from college.
His mother tried to keep an
open mind and asked everybody she knew what their
advice would be. Most said
don’t go, although a couple
said it would be beneficial.
Through the winter, their
letters kept asking him if he
had decided. On March 28,
1928, he enlisted in Company “F”, 157th Infantry of
the
Colorado
National
Guard for three years. He attended
some drills
1928
in
Boulder, but
the principle involvement in the Guard
was a 2-week camp every year in June
at the Rifle Range, Golden, Colorado.
His life there in his first year was filled
with cleanups, inspections, drills, KP
duty, guard duty, and Rookie school. In
his second year, his drill team won a
trophy and in his third year he was promoted to mess sergeant. On March 27,
1931, Dad was honorably discharged
with a marksmanship rating of “expert”
1929
and a character rating of “excellent”.
1930
We know little about Dad’s third year at college since we only have
one letter written by him and two letters written to him. He boarded again
at Mrs. Wheeler’s and took courses in economic geology, Spanish, mineralogy, philosophy, and physics. He continued hiking with U.C.H.C.,
19
where he met Ruth Stoeckly and was elected to be the club assistant manager for the following school year. While back at Steamboat in the summer of 1929, he received two letters from Ruth. He was offered a job as
camp counselor for boys at the Perry Mansfield camp, but we don’t know
if he accepted.
August 28 was a traumatic day in
Dad’s life. He and Rex and two girls were
in Rex’s car on their way to the Strawberry
Park Hot Springs. One of the girls, who
was younger and inexperienced, was driving when she lost control of the car and
panicked. The car turned over and according to his father, Dad was “badly cut
around right eye with his glasses and cut in
back of neck and ears.” He remained in the
Steamboat hospital for two weeks before
being transferred to Denver where he was
operated on at St. Luke’s to remove 12
Dad, Tim and bear in Steamboat bone fragments from his eye. In a strange
twist of fate, Dad’s mother was in Denver
where on August 31 she had a mastectomy at the Presbyterian Hospital to
remove a cancerous tumor, and was not even told about the accident until
6 days after it occurred. So while mother and son both lay in their respective hospital beds in pain and helplessness, neither had the other to support
and comfort them. And on the day Dad took the train into Denver, Minnie
took the train back to Steamboat, so they
passed each other somewhere en route.
Dad did not return to Boulder for the fall
semester. He was able to recover enough to
do some hunting and trapping. Ruth wrote
him several letters to tell him about the football games, the astronomical society Alpha
Nu which she had joined and which he had
been scheduled to join, and the activities of
the Hiking Club, including that the club voted
to keep Dad’s assistant manager job for him
whenever he would return. He went back to
Boulder the first week of January and lived
once more at Mrs. Reed’s house. Minnie con- Dad and webs in Steamboat
20
stantly reminded him the rest of the school year to take it easy on his eyes
and not study too much. His eyes did improve, and he finished the year
with good grades: oil geology (89), cartography (86), general geography
(82), ore deposits (93), and geology of Colorado (85), but without a diploma.
After a summer of fishing, camping, and
hunting in Steamboat, Dad returned to Boulder
for his fifth and final year in the fall of 1930,
again staying with Mrs. Reed. Letters from
home this final year often mentioned Minnie’s
health problems concerning her legs, calling it
sciatica or neuritis. She could hardly walk at
times, and rode to and from work during the
winter in a hand sled pulled by some students
she hired. Her weight dropped from a high of
over 185 down to 140 lbs while Dad’s increased to 165 lbs. In March of 1931 a letter
described how Dad’s dog Tim was hit by a car
and was killed. They ordered another redheaded Irishman pup for $30 from the same
kennel in Indiana that sold them Tim, and
Dad heading back to
Boulder
named it Tim also. This was the second time
Dad’s dog was killed accidentally. The Oct 16, 1925 Routt County Sentinel reported that Dad’s father accidentally shot Dad’s dog Turkey, a
Spitzenbergen-shepherd, while cleaning his gun in the house.
On June 15, 1931, Dad graduated with a Bachelor of Arts. The yearbook lists him as a member of Alpha Nu, the Colorado Mountain Club, the
Rocky Mountain Climbers Club, and president of the University of Colorado Hiking Club. U.C.H.C. was a major part of his life in his final year
and a half. Fortunately, he saved a photo album with scores of pictures of
hikes and skiing trips, plus several sets of playing cards that were autographed by fellow club members during house parties he organized. The
first such party was during March vacation in 1930, and when it was over
he wrote a very detailed letter that so thrilled his mother that she typed it
with seven carbon copies to send to relatives. Here is the letter as she
typed it:
21
Hiking Club – Dad on rock at upper right
Boulder, Colorado; Sunday, Mar. 30, 1930.
Dear Mother and Dad:
Back to Boulder again, after one of the most glorious weeks I've ever
spent. Don't know just where to start and what to say, but expect the best
way would be to make a diary out of it and be sure of not omitting anything.
We packed the groceries, bedding, skiis and suitcases in one truck with a few
riding in the back part; and then loaded everybody else in the other truck. Point
of Pines is only 34 miles from Boulder, so it didn't take us long to get there. We
stopped on the way at Lyons for some gum, etc.. In the drug store there were two
deer heads with horns locked which proved very interesting to me, also others.
The Rocky Mountain Climbers Club of the University of Colorado had a house
party from Friday night until Sunday noon so we couldn't do much from the time
we arrived at 11:45 till they left at 12:30 except stay out of their way.
Managing House Parties is some job and I had one fine time doing it. One
has at least six “irons” in the fire at the same time.
After the other club moved out we started dinner and began to get the
rooms assigned to the people so they could get located. The afternoon was
spent in getting the pantry arranged so I could find what was wanted
when it was needed. Shelves were made by piling boxes on top of each
other and then the goods placed in these. Also got K.P. (Kitchen Police)
list made out for a couple of days. This told when and who were to cook
and wash dishes.
Here is a schedule of Trips and Night events:
22
Sun: “Getting Settled”. Get Acquainted Night.
Mon: Short Trips-Get acquainted with skiis (etc)
Night-Flashlight Treasure Hunt
Tues: A Scouting Trip.
Main Bunch to Copeland Lake.
Stunt Night.
Wed: Allen's Park Ski Course.
Kid Party.
Thurs: Major Trip: To Wild Basin.
Fri: Ski Carnival.
Banquet and Big Night!
Sat :
Packing Up.
Dad on webs
_______________________________________________
Games were played Sunday eve until every body was sleepy. It was
great fun and nearly every body knew everybody else before the evening
was over.
Sleep on the House Party was almost unknown to me, for I had to be
the last one to bed and the first one up. This averaged 5 hours per night.
Seven of us (5 fellows & 2 girls), Tuesday, drove up near the Long's
Peak Inn to visit Mac Dings, a Ranger friend of mine, who goes to the
University and boarded at Mrs. Wheeler's last year.
We wanted to get some dope on the skiing and places to go. His mother
and fiancée were there spending the vacation. We then went up to the
Hewes, Kirkwood Hotel, as I wanted to inquire about rates etc. for future
house parties. We left the car there and proceeded up the Long Peak Trail
for several miles skiing most of the way, as there was lots of snow in the
heavy timber.
That night we were to have a fry with the Treasure hunt but a cold
Wind came up and so we had our fry in the dining room and spent the
evening dancing.
Music was quite plentiful for we had a radio - and it
worked mighty good victrola, piano, 2 violins,
cornet, accordion, 5 mouth
harps and a Jew's harp, also
my banjo.
Hiking Club - Dad at left on railroad tracks
23
Hiking Clug – Dad at far left, Ruth seated third from left
Tuesday, the six best skiiers including Ruth S. and Evelyn (Wolcott)
went on the scouting trip to Wild Basin. It snowed hard all day but skiing
was fine! We actually climbed from 8 till 4 without going down a single
hill along our course. The snow was 4 to 6 feet deep in the heavy timber,
well packed, allowing the skiis to sink only through an inch or so - and yet
it wasn't crusty.
Saw three blue grouse. All were in trees and flew. Also three snowshoe
rabbits and one cottontail. Animal and bird life was certainly scarce for
on the whole trip we saw only a few rabbit and squirrel tracks, one weasel
track and one coyote track.
This was about a 15 mile trip and on account of the snow falling we
were unable to see much country outside of what we went through.
At 4 o'clock we started down, each riding a dead pine pole which I had
selected and cut for them. It was great fun with three hours of continual
riding, with a few interruptions of pulling the
girls out of snow banks, unwinding from trees,
etc. Didn't get home until near 7, only to find that
because the President and Manager were away
they had awaited supper for us, so instead of our
anticipated cold lunch we dined on roast pork,
sweet potatoes etc. Every group put on a stunt
that night and they were all mighty good - even
the one four of us put on. I had to loan my hunting knife, white trousers, big hat, yellow shirt,
blue suspenders, red socks, striped under pants,
& cap & sweater to different members of other
Dad with Hiking Club
acts until I thought I’d have to wear a flour sack
for my own comfort during the evening.
24
Went skiing over to the Points on Wednesday and the new snow made it
splendid. As usual, I had to teach the bunch new turns, tricks, how to jump
and ride and had the pleasure (?) to escort the
ladies down the hill as the other fellows had all
they could do to get themselves down right side up.
I built a little “shoot up” jump and went about 50
feet in length and 20 feet up. More fun!! Everybody
had plenty of thrills especially those who were on
the hill & skiis for the first times. Started from the
top of the hill and went the 500 yards in 35
seconds. The wind made me cry so hard, I thought
I'd fall a time or two, because I couldn't see the
track.
The Kid party that night was a lot more fun. We
played all sorts of “kid's” games and acted more
than usual like a bunch of them. Some of us made
candy and popped “Bushels” of pop corn which
Dad with burnt cork we topped off the day by eating.
We bought fresh milk from a lady some 8 hundred
yards away. I was coming back from getting it one night when my right glass
bow broke - just popped off. Never could find it. So I played occulist and made
one out of copper wire. It worked splendidly and still have it on - will get a new
one tomorrow.
Everybody went to bed early Wednesday night - that is I got to bed at
12:30, so that the big trip could be made on Thursday. Breakfast at 6:45
off at 8:00 on one of the best trips I've ever had. 21 went including 4 girls.
We skied along a forest trail which reminded me of the one from Swamp
Park to Big Creek, or from Rabbit Ears to Buffalo Park, only it was continually climbing. Though it was snowing most of the day, the clouds lifted
now and then to let us see the rugged, beautiful country of and around
Wild Basin. This is just South of Long's Peak. The trail led through heavy
timber by one lake - Finch Lake - and to Pear Lake, but we didn't quite go
to it. Coming back
we strung out along
the trail in sort of a
cross country race
fashion. Ruth and I
were the first home,
not counting three
fellows who left
early and only beat
us in 15 minutes. We
were 25 minutes beHiking Club getting skiis ready – Dad at right
fore the first bunch
arrived and an hour and a half before the last ones. I have taught her so
25
many useful skiing “tricks” whereby to make time that she is better than
any of the other girls and most of the fellows.
Though a long trip, it was
an easy one and so we played
cards, games, danced, listened
to the radio, until quite late.
The bunch didn't want breakfast till 9:30 so I didn't have to
get up as early as usual Friday morning.
Friday was one busy day!
What with “putting on” a ski
carnival and banquet, I had
plenty to do. Ruth helped me
make out the ski carnival program. We chose captains and
Hiking Club – Dad at right, Ruth at top of
divided the skiiers into 4
cairn
teams as evenly matched as we could. There were seven on a team as that
was all the prizes I had. For Ruth had to have her pick of the skiis before
we even went on the party, thus leaving 7 pair.
There were eight events and everybody entered had one grand time. Because
of the evenness of the teams we had to resort to higher mathematics in several
events to find out who won. This because it was team work and not individual
work.
The winning team was not announced until well along in the banquet.
They went wild over their prizes and certainly liked them. The President's
team won and so I gave his pair to Mary Joan his three month old baby
who also enjoyed the house party.
Had six chickens for the feed
and all that goes with them clear
through to ice cream & cake
which three of us made - (fine
too!). After the crew of dish
washers finished cleaning up we
had the program dance. I so arranged my dances that I didn't
have any when another fellow
didn't, and we saw to it that our
partners did have. So we slipped
away down to the Girls Dormitory and with the aid of one of the
girls we had let in on the joke
collected all the pajamas, socks
Hiking Club – Dad at right
and much other apparel which
we found no name for, piled them
by the sewing machine then with red and other colored thread and a fine stitch
sewed up all openings and sewed them all together into a quilt.
26
After this was finished we hid them in the Chaperon's room and just made our
exit when the first ones left the dance. That was one reason why several stayed
up all night. Those that did go to bed spent more than an hour untangling the
mess! As yet we've been called everything and threatened with lots more, but the
blame hasn't been definitely placed.
After the program dance some of us made sandwiches, hot lemonade and ate
the left over chicken etc. Then we played cards awhile, listened to the radio
danced some more, made candy, popped some corn, danced more until it began
to get daylight then we went skiing several miles, getting back in time for Hot
Cakes at nine o'clock.
After eating and getting all packed until after the noon meal some of us
went skating as it was 17 below that night and the ice on the lake was fine.
After the “Left Overs” meal we finished cleaning and packing and left for
Boulder about 3, tired but pronouncing it the best House Party yet.
One certainly has to have an iron physical constitution to do so much
in such a short time on so little sleep. But I feel fine to-night after the rest
last night and this morning.
Had 4 letters awaiting me on my arrival home - Mother's, Jack's, one
from Roger & Peach's. Enjoyed all the news from Steamboat.
Aunt Lulie just called up and said she
was calling up Steamboat tonight so by the
time you receive this you will have heard
most of the news.
Certainly enjoyed the Hat, as well as did
every body else, for it was the pet and the idol
of the bunch. Everyone had to try it on and
have their pictures taken in it. I'm afraid I'd of
had mighty sore lips if I'd had to follow the old
rule of kissing all the girls who wore it. I'll return it right away.
Will send presents to the birthday folks
soon. Got 75 in Structural Geol. 82 in M.
Draw. 90 in oil - (got 96 on the final highest in the class.). Haven't heard from
the rest yet.
Must close now, Love, Jim
Dad with his Hat
27
28
4. California
This chapter is by far the most mysterious chapter of Dad’s life. When
he died, I knew only that Dad spent the 1930s working in the mining industry in California. I assumed that the Depression meant there were no
jobs for Dad in Steamboat, so he left to use his geology training in a bunch
of temporary jobs in California before finding a permanent government
job in the Indian Service in New Mexico.
The first inclination that there was much more to the story was a letter
I read in 1978 when I was rummaging through an old trunk of letters and
photographs from Dad and his parents. This letter caught my eye because
it was addressed to Dad in Glendale, California in 1939. It was written to
him from his Aunt Grace, and was a letter of condolence. However the
only name mentioned in the letter was “Peach” in quotation marks, which
I took to be Dad’s dog. I had no time to read more letters, and put it out of
mind for 25 years.
Then in 2004, I decided to look again in that trunk. I found 18 love letters written during the Civil War by Dad’s grandfather, James H. Crawford, to his future wife Margaret E. Bourn. I excitedly reported my find to
my siblings. In talking about this trunk of letters, Nancy asked if I had
read the “Peach” letter from Aunt Grace. Nancy and Sharon had seen that
letter in 1960, when they went with Dad to Steamboat to help him clean
out his family’s barn. My mention of the old trunk had brought back her
memories of the letter. Spurred on by her puzzlement
over the letter, I finished searching through the trunk and
gathered a dozen letters written to Dad during the 1930s.
I also found four letters written in 1927 by Peach, including a photograph. In the past four years we have discovered even more: newspaper articles, census and
cemetery records, diary entries, and photographs. And
through the miracle of the Web, we were contacted by
nieces and nephews of Peach, whose real name was Photo in letter
from Peach
Lucinda Emogene Harrison.
Here is what I now know of the great secret Dad (and Mom) kept from
us. To simplify the story, I will refer to her here as “Peach”, which was the
term most commonly used by others, and often in quotation marks. Occasionally she was called Jean, and Minnie sometimes called her “the fruit”.
However all of Peach’s letters to Dad are signed “Peaches”.
29
We must now backtrack a few years.
According to the Steamboat Pilot (June
1939): “The Harrison family lived in
Steamboat Springs one summer while Mr.
Harrison was field man for the Texas
company in the Tow Creek field. It was
then that James and Imogene Harrison became acquainted.” This was probably the
summer of 1927; in the fall of 1927 Peach
wrote four letters to Dad from Saratoga,
Wyoming, where she worked as a school
teacher. She was born and raised a Mormon in southwestern Wyoming, and other
than the summer in Steamboat had probably not lived outside of Wyoming and
Utah. Dad’s 1928 diary mentions sending
and receiving letters and Valentines to and from Peach. Minnie occasionally refers to her in letters to Dad. In her March 8, 1930 letter she says
“What a wonderful memento from Peach! That was fine of her. No wonder you like her. She has an intuitive thoughtfulness for others that makes
her know what the other fellow would like! You see she just knew that you
would catch the sweetness in the message of fruit and flowers from sunny
California and the maiden there. ‘Dad’ used to send me things from the
mountain life like that. Yes, I’d say she
is a winsome Lassie indeed though I do
not know her.” Peach moved to California with her family sometime in 1928 or
1929, and was listed as a beauty operator in a beauty parlor in the 1930 census.
Dad’s father wrote her a letter in Inglewood, California, August 30, 1929 to
tell her about Dad’s car accident.
We do not know if Peach ever came
back to Steamboat to visit Dad, but we
do know he took a trip to California in
the summer of 1931 after graduation,
and there is a hint that he may have
been to California one other time before
Dad with J.H.Monson in Oakland
then. In Steamboat, Dad had no regular
July 1931 near 568 47th Street
30
job for the next year. He was a scoutmaster, taught Sunday School, took
several correspondence classes, and probably did more trapping and hunting. Minnie left Steamboat on September 1 to stay with her sister Grace in
Beloit. Dad and his father were on the train to Beloit when she died on
January 20, 1932. Dad spent the next year “baching” it with his father and
Uncle Logan. On December 14, 1932, Dad and Logan drove from Denver
to Los Angeles in four days. Except for vacations of up to two weeks, Dad
would never again live in Steamboat Springs.
The Jan. 13, 1933 issue of the Steamboat Pilot reported that Uncle Logan and Dad were on a prospecting trip at Trona, California, with Henry
Schaffnit Jr. and Mr. Whipple. However Dad was soon living at 10013
Freeman Avenue in Inglewood, just a few blocks from the Harrison home
at 224 W. Buckthorn. The March 17 issue of the Pilot described a letter
Dad sent to his father about a serious earthquate in Inglewood. The quake
struck when he was in his car waiting for Peach, who was in a store He
was thrown back and forth ind hurled against the car door. He saw buildings collapse, and heard a roar from all of the crashing timbers, bricks and
broken glass. He saw the big theater building tumble in on a whole section
of stores along the block. Later he tried to go to Long Beach to see cousin
Leola. The police were not allowing unnecessary traffic on the highways
so he drove to San Pedro and took the street car to Long Beach. He found
the shop where Leola worked locked up, and her apartment was in ruins.
He went to city hall, where missing persons were registered, and found her
address at Alhambra. He returned to Inglewood and talked to Leola over
the telephone. She had been in her apartment, but was uninjured.
Dad was baptized in the Mormon Church
on March 4, 1933; confirmed on March 5; ordained a priest on May 9; and ordained an
elder on June 25. On that same day, Dad and
some of the Harrisons drove to Salt Lake
City, where Dad and Peach were married in
the Mormon temple on June 30, 1933. They
next drove to Steamboat for two weeks of
fishing and camping, followed by a roundabout trip back to Los Angeles via Peach’s
old homes in Wyoming, Yellowstone National Park, Montana, Idaho, Washington, and
Peach and Dad – perhaps
Oregon. In a little red notebook Dad used, he
at start of wedding trip
summarized the trip:
31
June 25 – August 1, 1933:
Gas 286 gal =
61.66
Ports & oil
26.20
Groceries
19.12
Miscellaneous
46.91
Total
$153.89
Average cost of gas per gallon .2156¢
Average cost per mile
.0293¢
Average mileage per gallon
18.34
Mileage of trip
5246
Actual value of trip
$$$$$$$
We know little about the next several years. Until the end of the year
they lived at 723 Myrtle Ave. in Inglewood. In the summer of 1934 he
wrote geology and Mormon information in a little green notebook, which
also included shopping lists, survey notes, diagrams of bear traps, and a
two week daily diary of working a sluice mine. He never identified the
location of the mine, but the surveying was in Lake County, California,
100 miles north of San Francisco. In December, 1934 Dad received a letter
addressed to him at Lakeport. The Lakeport newspaper, Lake County Bee
printed an article on January 24, 1935 about Dad winning a coffee percolator door prize at a party (Dad never drank coffee, consistent with Mormon practice), and another article on July 4, 1935 about Mr. and Mrs.
James Crawford attending a dinner party. On October 11, 1935, the
Steamboat Pilot reported that Dad and Peach arrived in Steamboat from
Lakeport for a visit of several weeks, which included a successful elk
hunt. At the end of his red notebook, Dad copied a prescription for digitalis (a heart medicine) for Mrs. Emogene Crawford filled February 13, 1936
at Curries Drug Store in Lakeport. Another little memorandum book is
filled with notes about Mormon meetings from March to June, 1937, but
no indication of where the meetings were held. The Steamboat Pilot reported on September 30, 1937 that Aunt Grace left Steamboat to visit Dad at
Lakeport, the last date we have that Dad was still in Lakeport.
Dad appeared earlier that year in San Francisco, where he walked
across the Golden Gate Bridge on the day it opened May 27, 1937. He
worked in San Francisco for a year on the 3rd floor of the Ferry Building.
We have an employment letter written about Dad by the head of the Division of Mines for the state of California. Its description of Dad fits perfectly with my own image of him:
32
December 14, 1937
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
It gives me pleasure to say a word in behalf of Mr. James Crawford
who, I understand, wishes to secure permanent employment as a geologist-engineer.
Mr. Crawford has worked under my supervision for nineteen months
under the temporary employment of the Federal Works Progress Administration. The work assigned to him was on (a) compiling information and
drawing mining claim maps in the Recorder’s Office in Lake County; (b)
correction and completion of our State geologic map; (c) preparation of
an oil field map of California. The work on the last two items was done in
our San Francisco office.
Mr. Crawford has shown unusual aptitude for the work assigned to
him. He is extremely careful, thorough, and sensible. He does not waste
time. He is modest but makes friends readily. He is always a gentleman
and I have found him to be absolutely faithful and trustworthy.
Although I will regret losing him, I shall be glad to see him get into
permanent employment where he may be of greater service to the profession.
Yours very truly,
Olaf P. Jenkins
CHIEF GEOLOGIST
Dad did get a new, permanent job, but not in the field of geology. On
March 1, 1938, he started his new career with the Indian Service at the
United Pueblos Agency in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The Mormon
Church records indicate that he transferred from the Inglewood-Hollywood branch to the Lakeport Branch of the California Mission on July 13,
1936, to the Reading (or Mayten) branch on August 29, 1938, and to the
Alburqurque branch on March 30, 1939. Clearly their record keeping
lagged years behind the actual moves. The Reading branch transfer is
puzzling, since Reading is far north of Lakeport. Peach's mother was also
transferred there. Perhaps Peach lived with her mother in Reading while
Dad worked in San Francisco. The Steamboat Pilot reported February 24,
1938 that Dad arrived on the bus from California on his way to Albuquerque, while Peach remained in Redding. On June 23, the Pilot said
Peach and her mother came from California to Steamboat for two weeks,
where Dad met them and drove them back to Sante Fe. Dad's office was in
Santa Fe, but his home was at Camitas (?) on the Indian reservation.
33
Mrs. Harrison, Peach, and family friends in Reading at the start of
trip to Albuquerque via Steamboat Springs and Denver
In Denver on way to Albuquerque, 1938
Peach, Mrs. Harrison, Margaret, Lulita, Lulie, and Carr
34
There is one more part to Dad’s California life. In May, 1939, while
Dad attended a conference in Washington D.C., Peach went to visit her
family at her brother’s house at 1034 Thompson Ave. in Glendale, California. She became sick of heart trouble (perhaps brought on by childhood
rheumatic fever), and Dad flew from Washington to be with her. Two days
later on July 4, 1939, Peach died. The last letter we have that mentions
Peach was the condolence letter written by Aunt Grace that was described
at the beginning of this chapter. It is only fitting that we should end the
chapter with a few quotes from that letter:
Monday P.M.
Beloit
My own dear Jamie. Just to let you know, Aunt Grace is right by you
every minute holding your hand, & praying God to be very near & dear to
you, and comfort you & give you strength as only he can do in this your
more than great sorrow.
You have no regrets. You were always loving, faithful, patient and kind
to our precious girl, and how she did love you and plan for your future,
with all the confidence in the world that her Jim would be clear to the top
some day she was so proud of you & her & the sweet memories will ever
be an inspiration to you to keep right on climbing - & "Peach" will always
be by your side.
I have so many regrets, if I'd only stayed & helped more & taken care
of her. I never realized it was so serious. She was always so careful, not to
complain in any way, & always had a smile, that wonderful smile for
everyone.
Some things to be glad for dear, you got there & was with her she
might have been alone, in Albuquerque, and she was with or near all her
folks. Rest is hers, and sweet remembrance ours.
…
All my love.
Your Aunt Grace
35
36
5. Albuquerque, New Mexico
Dad was already in New Mexico at the end of the last chapter, but his
life reached a sad dead-end, and we need to backtrack some so he can go
down a different branch and make Albuquerque a beginning, rather than
an ending, of life. We must go back to his years at Boulder when he met
Ruth Stoeckly, and re-tell the story.
Ruth was the third of five children of Swiss immigrants. Her father
was an engineer who built and ran sugar beet factories. He ended up running the sugar beet factory in Garden City, Kansas, where Ruth was born
on March 16, 1910. All five children went to the University of Colorado,
and all five married fellow students at the University. Ruth was bright and
studious. She graduated from high school at age 16, and spent the next two
years at Garden City Junior College. She arrived at Boulder in the fall of
1928. Her only activity listed in the 1929 yearbook is the Presbyterian
Union, though we also know she joined Phi Beta Kappa and Alpha Nu,
and met Dad on some hikes of the Hiking Club. The 1930 yearbook lists
her activities as the Presbyterian Union, Alpha Nu, Women’s Club, Womens Athletic Association, U.C.H.C., and Mathematics Club. In the summer of 1929 she worked at a store in Garden City, took an extension
course, and wrote at least two letters to Dad. In the fall when Dad did not
return to Boulder because of his car accident, she wrote at least three more
letters, and talked about both the Hiking Club and Alpha Nu. When Dad
returned to Boulder in January, we know from Dad’s House Party letter
(see Chapter 3) that they were more than just casual friends, as he brags
about her skiing and mentions that he gave her one of the pairs of skiis
that were meant to be used for prizes.
Her letters to him resumed in the summer of 1930: she wrote at least
15 letters over the next seven months. Since she graduated from Boulder,
her letters came at first from Garden City, and then from Meeker, Colorado, where she worked for two years as a teacher. In September, while
Dad was still at home, she wanted Dad to come visit her in Meeker, or
pick her up to take her to Steamboat, but only if Minnie invited her because she is afraid her visit would be too much work for Minnie. We have
no direct evidence of her visit to Steamboat, but a family rumor states that
she did visit but was given the cold shoulder by Minnie. In November she
thanked him for the photographs he sent with his last letter. And in
December she asked him not to get her anything for Christmas, because
she knew he was working extra to have enough to live on at Boulder, and
37
Dad
she did not want him to spend needlessly on her.
Her last letter in January thanked him for the long
letter he sent her. We also have one letter she
wrote to her “Round Robin”. She and from four to
seven of her high school friends (including her sister Margaret) wrote communal letters which were
sent from house to house in one envelope.
Whenever one of the friends received the packet
of letters, she would take out her own last letter
and write a new letter to add to the packet. In that
way they could read the gossip from all of them
while only having to write one letter. They continued these R.R. letters for over fifty years. In this,
the earliest R.R. letter that still exists, Ruth wrote,
“I haven’t had a date or seen the boy friend for –
well months, anyway. But that doesn’t mean we
aren’t writing!!”
By the spring of 1932, when Ruth started a diary, she has forgotten
Dad and moved on to other boy friends. Ruth must have realized Dad had
chosen Peach over her, and in traveling to Switzerland for two years she
physically was getting as far away as possible from him. We can now fastforward back to the end of the last chapter, back to Glendale, California in
June, 1939, where Dad prepared to return to Washington, D.C.
At Boulder, Dad was friends with Enos Ryland,
who married Ruth’s older sister Margaret and lived
in Los Angeles. He also knew Clarita Pond, one of
Mom’s housemates from U. of C. living in New
Mexico. Dad found out from Clarita that Ruth was
still single and living at home in Garden City. He
visited with Ruth on August 18 on the way back
from Washington to his home in Albuquerque, and
they were married on January 19, 1940, in Garden
City. To say the least, this was a little rushed to remarry so soon after the death of a spouse; in fact,
the wedding might have been even sooner: a letter
from Mom (now that they are married, it is more
natural to use the name I knew her by) to her
Round Robin on Christmas, 1939, stated that the
wedding would not be until the last part of January
Ruth
38
because she was still sick: “…it is slow business
getting well from what was just one step removed
from a complete breakdown”. Once again, we can
only speculate what was going through Dad’s
mind and heart. I think this indicates that Peach
was probably sick for some time, and Dad was
mentally and emotionally expecting her to die
soon. I think it also indicates that Dad and Mom
must have each thought about marriage a decade
earlier, so they did not need a long courtship. In
any event, their marriage started a new life for
both of them, and closed the door forever on the
Peach years. Probably at Mom’s insistence, Dad Dad on Mom's turkey
agreed to never reveal Peach to us children. Fortu- farm in Garden City
nately, his trunk of old letters and photographs was so disorganized that he
couldn’t remove all traces of Peach.
Two days before the wedding, Dad wrote the following letter to Mom,
the only existing letter from him to her before their marriage:
January 17, 1940
My Darling Sweetheart –
Two more nights – one more day and then I’ll be in Kansas
again, holding my soon-to-be-wife in my arms and kissing her dear
sweet lips. I won’t believe it can happen until I actually feel the
warmth of your lips on mine.
How different it will be to step from the train this time than when
I did five short months ago – five months almost to the day – Aug.
18. Then I was going west – with many strains and seemingly unsolvable problems facing me. Five months has been time to accomplish much. And now as the train goes again to Garden City it is
with such a different person aboard. The heavy clouds of uncertainty have disappeared and in their midst the sunshine of happiness
& certainty shines on all sides.
This has been a most hard day though I’m feeling pretty fine. I
don’t see how I can ever get my work organized well enough to stay
away two weeks but when I leave Albuquerque I shall leave behind
my work, I promise you it shall be left behind, in the business way at
least.
Tomorrow I have to drive to Santa Fe – Ralph is taking up a
Doctor’s car & I have to bring him back – also bring Clarita Pawww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
39
dilla, a Tesuque girl, back as an attendant for the Sanitorium. This
will take a great part of the day and I will have to work early & late
to accomplish all – but someway I shall have the will and strength
to carry through tomorrow and make it to the train where I shall relax as only a tired happy man can.
The evaluation of Quarters summary is finally getting along. I
have everything well under control and believe that the work will go
along nicely in my absence. Undoubtedly there will be many questions come up but I’ll have a couple of weeks before the engineer
arrives to straighten things out.
Darling, I cannot believe I am soon to be a married man and you
are to be my partner, my Darling wife. How wonderful God has
been to us to bring us together through such a hard journey, with so
many, many obstacles thrown in our way. How much we can show
our appreciation for his guidance protection and blessing – must be
our supreme thought. I shall never cease thanking Him for making
possible your love, your life.
I shall purchase the train ticket tonight when I mail this letter
and instead of sending a letter on it tomorrow night, I shall send
myself. It still doesn’t seem possible!
How I hope I shall always be worthy of your life, your love &
your companionship. And everything in my power will be directed
that happiness shall always be yours. Of course we’ll have all normal problems plus many more – a real challenge – but through them
all if God will grant us understanding hearts – tolerant minds and
even strengthened love for each other – no problem will be too
hard, no task too great.
Hurriedly I have written these few lines – but you know from my
pen that my love is ever stronger, ever deeper for you – and now I
will soon have not just two weeks but a lifetime to prove my letters.
Until I see you Friday, may God grant us peace, rest and protection. All my love now & forever. I’m always
Yours, Jim
Mom wrote her Round Robin a long letter in February, written on seven sheets of stationary from seven different hotels, describing the wedding
and honeymoon. Around the 9th of January Mom decided the date should
be the 19th since that was a weekend (Friday) and that was the 35th Wedding Anniversary of her parents. She wanted a simple affair, but ended up
40
inviting 70 people, 18 of whom were her teacher colleagues. However the
only relatives that attended were her parents and her brother Fred. They
left in Mom’s new blue 1940 Chevy Tudor (bought in November for
$876) after the dinner reception at her parents’ home. Fred, ever the trickster, tied cans to the undercarriage of the car in such a way that they did
not drop down and make a racket until an hour into their trip. He also
sprinkled rice throughout their suitcases, clothes, and car.
The first night they spent at “The Lassen – Kansas’ finest hotel,
Wichita”. Their trip took them through the corner of Oklahoma (Hotel
Tulsa) into Arkansas, where a snowstorm caused them to “stay in a very
tiny little place called “Mena” – we wont soon forget the country hotel
there (Hotel Mena) – or the good breakfast.” From there they went
through Arkansas: Hot Springs, the capitol at Little Rock, and Pine Bluff
(Hotel Pines); through a sliver of Mississippi starting at Vicksburg (Carroll Hotel), and on to the capitol at Baton Rouge, Louisiana and finally
after a week of travel to New Orleans (St. Charles Hotel). Mom complained that they drove in snow all but the last day, and New Orleans was
so cold there were no flowers in bloom. After three days in New Orleans
with side trips to Biloxi, Mississippi and to the delta of the Mississippi
River at Venice, they drove west through New Iberia (Hotel Frederic) to
Mom and Nancy at her dressing table – Dad in mirror
41
Galveston, Texas, which Mom especially liked because it was finally
warm and they could find shells on the beach. They drove through Houston, visited the capitol in Austin, and stayed at Waco (Glenora Courts);
drove through Dallas and Fort Worth, and stayed at Norman; and visited
the capitol in Oklahoma City before hitting a snow storm in Dodge City.
The total trip was two weeks and 3100 miles, averaging 19 miles per gallon. After a day of packing they headed through Liberal, Kansas and Dalhart, Texas (De Soto Hotel), and arrived in Albuquerque Sunday evening.
We don’t know where Dad lived in Albuquerque for his first two years
there. Mom and Dad spent their first week in a motor court before using
an FHA Loan to buy a new house on a corner lot near the University of
New Mexico at 401 Princeton: two bedrooms, large living room, large kitchen, bath, hall, and small back porch. Outside was white stucco with
slanting green roof, separate garage, and nothing in the yard except some
Chinese elms and two arbor vitus bushes. They had no furniture, and spent
the next week buying furnishings. Mom ended her letter saying “I hope
everyone is as happy as I am!”
Dad, Mom, Mom's sister Erika and husband George Saltzman at corner of 401
42
Princeton
Dad started work for the Indian Service as a Trainee, then an Engineering Aid, then an Administrative Assistant to the Executive Medical Officer. In 1940 he was in charge of the census of the United Pueblo Indians.
The reservation was divided into 19 Pueblos scattered from 12 to 170
miles from the agency headquarters in Albuquerque. Dad had to travel to
each Pueblo with an interpreter, ask permission to take the census (the Indians typically did not want to have anything to do with the government),
find people who were literate and spoke both English and their native language, instruct them, and finally check their work and compile the results.
Mom helped him with secretarial work, and often accompanied him to the
Pueblos.
Dad at the government census training in Denver
In March they drove up to Denver where Dad attended a government
census school. By June he had all of the data, and in the middle of July he
packed up 63 portfolios and shipped them off to complete the task. Mom
said she felt like a convict sentenced to hard labor, and that grading papers
10 hrs. a day would have been easier than the exacting, nerve-wracking
work she helped Dad do. Dad had to work on July 4 th, but was able to see
the “Coronado Entrada” at the University stadium on June 1 st to commemorate the 400th anniversary of Coronado coming to New Mexico. Later in
July they saw dances at Cochiti Pueblo, and two different corn dances. In
43
September they stayed for 6 weeks in government quarters in Old Laguna Pueblo, 60
miles west of Albuquerque, while Dad was
on an assignment. He took more trips to the
Pueblos to get Indians to sign up for conscription, sometimes making three trips to
the same place. They climbed Mt. Taylor on
a camping trip. Dad liked to hunt cottontails,
which tasted better than chicken to Mom,
and took Mom antelope hunting in southwestern New Mexico. They both got an
antelope after stalking them on their hands
and knees – the first time Mom had ever
Dad with antelope, Oct. 1939
even seen an antelope. They also hunted
doves – Mom got her limit of a dozen. In
December Dad took a week off and they went to Garden City for Christmas followed by three days in Denver visiting the Pritchetts, Dad’s father,
and Uncle Logan.
Dad continued to spend many days visiting the Pueblos, mainly to attend Council meetings. Once he had to drive to Arizona to find a Navajo
woman who had a deed relating to a land
problem Dad worked on. Another time Dad
and Mom drove into the mountainous countryside to check on land usage of a remote
area. Unfortunately, the last 25 miles were
on a dirt road. After 20 miles the road
crossed an arroyo with water in it that
seemed impassable; after several tries, a
pickup came by and pulled them the last bit
up the side of the arroyo. However after the
pickup was gone, they discovered they
couldn’t budge: the transmission was shot
and they were stuck in the middle of
nowhere. Fortunately, somebody came by
who gave them a lift all the way back to Albuquerque, and Dad went out the next day
Mom and Nancy – note
with a coworker to tow back the dead govantelope over the fireplace
ernment car.
44
They went to more Indian dances, often unpublicized ones that Dad discovered when he went to a Pueblo for
business. They drove one weekend to
Garden City for Mom’s birthday and saw
her parents and Fred. Most of their free
time was spent gardening together. All
her life, Mom had large gardens that
were here major hobby and source of
pleasure. She enjoyed planting, weeding,
watering, and harvesting. Dad, on the
other hand, enjoyed the major landscaping projects such as planting trees and Nancy on pillows made by Dad’s
Grandmother Crawford
building rock walls, so there was plenty
for him to do with Mom in landscaping what was originally just a dirt
field. They ended up with five flower beds, a strawberry bed, a vegetable
patch, 12 fruit trees, and a chicken coop with six leghorn chickens. Mom
spent two to four hours every day out in the gardens.
On October 8, 1941, Nancy was born, nine days early. Mom and
Nancy stayed in the hospital for a normal 10 days. Mom complained that
her muscles were tired from lying in bed
so long, but that it was fun being in a
ward with so many diverse, entertaining
women. Their first trip with Nancy was a
repeat Christmas trip of the year before:
nine-hour drive to Garden City for
Christmas, followed by one day in Denver. The family seemed to be thriving:
Nancy was growing daily, and Mom
wrote “She is so good all the time she is
a real joy.” Mom loved the climate and
her gardens, Dad loved the hunting and
outdoors and wrote to his father: “Enjoying my work more every day & sure
have lots of Indian Friends.” But their
Albuquerque chapter was soon to end.
Dad and Nancy on Easter,
April 5, 1942
45
46
6. Poston, Arizona
Dec. 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor, changed most people's lives, and Dad was
no exception. In April of 1942, he received a letter from an Indian Service
(BIA) acquaintance offering Dad a job working for the War Relocation
Authority (WRA) in San Francisco. The WRA was a part of the War Department given the job of incarcerating all 110,000 Japanese people living
in California, Oregon, and Washington: the 40,000 born in Japan forbidden to become American citizens by our exclusion act, and the 70,000
born in the US and therefore American citizens (I will refer to both groups
as Japanese). The WRA built 10 relocation centers in 7 states to house the
Japanese for the duration of the War. It is a very sad chapter in US history,
and is described in detail in many books. Poston was unique because it
was run not by the WRA, but by the BIA. The BIA provided land on the
Colorado River Indian Reservation and ran the camp, in exchange for the
WRA funding the camp and building irrigation canals to allow the Japanese to raise crops on the land, which would revert to the Indians after the
War.
John Collier, BIA Commissioner in Washington, selected Wade Head,
superintendent of the Papago Indian Reservation, to become the director
of Poston. Word went to all of the BIA offices that jobs had to be filled at
Poston, and Dad was notified that he could transfer. He was then faced
with three possibilities: 1) take the job with the WRA in San Francisco; 2)
transfer to Poston; or 3) remain with the BIA in Albuquerque.
Water-color on paper signed: “Kakunen Tsuruoka '43”
Inscribed on back: “To James D. Crawford from K.T. 4-8-44”
47
Water-color on cloth, unsigned
In 1945 Alexander H. Leighton authored a book about Poston titled
“The Governing of Men”. Leighton was a sociologist and psychiatrist who
became professor at Cornell U. after the War. He spent 1942-43 researching the life and policies at Poston, and interviewed Dad three times. Transcripts of those interviews are in the Rare and Manuscript Collections,
Carl A. Kroch Library, Cornell University. In the first interview, Dad
talked about how he came to Poston, and since he can tell the story far better than I can, I'm including here Leighton's notes of the interview, with
my comments in braces [].
10-27-42
A.H.Leighton
The following account came after I told Mr. C about my trip to Washington last week and asked him for a history of Poston. Today he came to my
office and I took him to my room about 3:30. For one half hour he talked
about various things that have happened recently and then started on the
story. The recent things he talked about are noted in my journal. He spoke
rapidly all the time with hardly any questions from me.
Mr. James Crawford's Story
AHL: Review of Poston to reminisce?
JC:
I don't know if I should go into why or how I came?
AHL: That would be useful.
JC:
I had never known Fryer [E. R. Fryer, superintendent of the
Navaho Indian Reservation, regional WRA director in S.F. until early
1943] or Petrie. Petrie was interested in young fellows assigned to
48
Navaho area as field assistants. He attended meetings in Albuquerque.
AHL: What was his position?
JC:
Executive Secretary to Mr. Fryer - or something of the sort. He is a
child genius - very young. Came from down in Fryer's country.
[I met him] when sent to copy Platte records. I met him again at Window
Rock in Jan 1942. I was no particular friend of his - just acquaintance. In
April he wrote me from S.F. just after he and Fryer had left Navaho.
Wanted to know if I would accept position in S.F. Outlined WRA. I wrote
to him this vague letter I would be interested to find more facts. Was
working under civil service. Had wife and baby and home things to consider. Before he got this he sent me telegram offering position in regional
office as assistant to Mr. Fryer. I wired back that I needed more info.
Before getting this or my wire he wrote me a letter with a lot of info in it. I
took that up with Dr. Aberle [Dr. Sophie D. Aberle, superintendent of the
United Pueblos Agency 1935-1944, PhD from Stanford U.]. I felt very
loyal to the Indian Service and especially to Dr. Aberle who had helped
me a lot. Liked field work and direct contact with Indian people reporting
directly to Dr. Aberle. Had a great deal of responsibility. I was given full
responsibility and initiative in relations between Indians and Non Indians.
I knew more Indians personally than any one else in the agency. Mrs.
Crawford helped me with census 1940. Met lots of Indians personally. Dr.
Aberle was out of town so Mr. Formhals (next in command) advised me to
wire that Dr. Aberle was out of town and I'd have to take it up with her
when she came back.
At this time Dr. Aberle had received a telegram from Comm. Collier
which stated all the Indian agencies were to cooperate with Poston in
equipment and personnel. Get in touch with Mr. Head to see what was
needed.
Everything was arranged. Mr. Formhals was to come down here to see
Mr. Head. We were sending down 6 CCC trucks. He talked to Mr. Head
and found they needed administrative personnel and would be glad to
have me.
Got 3rd telegram from Petrie the morning Dr. Aberle got back. It said
after San Francisco office I would be assigned to a relocation center in
some administrative capacity.
At this time Mrs. Crawford and I had been writing a list, one for Albuquerque, one for S.F. and one for Poston. The selective service entered
the picture. I found married men were to be taken to the draft. Found local draft board would look most favorable on continuing in Indian Service
49
Parker – Colorado River is dark band running right to left with California
at top of photo; dark area to the right is train station with 2 trains
in Poston, rather than S.F.
Dr. Aberle called Mr. Collier in Washington, to find if WRA had any priority over other depts in regards to policy. Mr. Collier called me to the
phone and said I would be making a great mistake to leave the Indian Service. Work in S.F. would be controlled by the work on the projects. Felt
there would be just a bunch of figure heads at S.F. Said by all means to
stay in the field. On the morning train I received a letter from my father. I
had written him about it. He said he was glad to hear of my opportunities,
but said I was quite young when WWI was completed and I didn't realize
the changes that took place there in Steamboat Springs Colo. He cited
cases when fellows had changed jobs for more money but lost out after
entire life changed just because they thought the grass was greener on the
next pasture. He cited 2 cases especially. He had worked as County Clerk
for 25 years, and had built up a friendship and a confidence that people
going from one place to another don't develop. Change of job position
doesn't enter his mind.
So all those things together and the fact the Indian office had been good to
me caused us to decide to come down to Poston rather than S.F. Then we
had to decide to leave Albuquerque. As far as priority ratings went, Indian
Service was at the bottom of the list - no. 5. Then it seemed it would be
better for the Indian office to spend its little money on Indians rather than
on me or other administrators. So we decided to go to Poston. That was
Friday and we decided to be in Poston Sunday night. Ruth happened to
have a sister at Parker Dam. So I was assigned on 30 day detail. She
wanted to visit her sister and look and go over her new living quarters
there. During 1st month Mrs. Crawford lived with sister at Parker Dam
50
and I drove up there once a week.
AHL: Date of arrival?
JC:
May 4th. [The first Japanese arrived May 8th.] During 1st 10 days
everyone stayed at Parker. Sunday nite I arrived, Parker was like an oil
boom town 2400 workers on the project. What lights there were gleaming.
All during 1st 10 days I commuted back and forth until we moved into Poston I. I was one of first to move in the transfer of us with Best and Campbell - now assistant director Manzanar.
Monday morning I walked into Mr. Heads office and I had never met him
before. He began introducing me to personnel. He said “Ned, come over
here.” I said I bet that is Ned Campbell. I knew him back in Colorado in
1925. He used to be traveling rep. of American Red Cross. My grandparents came out of Missouri to Steamboat Springs and founded the town.
One spring is 103° called the bath springs. Ute Indians had told my
grandmother and grandfather where it was. Bathed the children in it. Developed it as a spa later. Naturally I had grown up in that atmosphere and
had done lots of swimming. I was life guard at this pool in the summer. Lo
and behold the Red Cross Chapter had sent a Red Cross examiner to
Steamboat Springs and it was Ned. Then I met him at school - he was
swimming on Univ. Colorado team and was head cheer leader. I got out
of school in 1931. Ned had gone back to a Texas school. So I was quite
surprised to hear his voice.
I was assigned to Ned. I met more government officers within the small
town at Parker. None down here. Unit I had buildings 6 and 11 completed. Buildings on west side of area were up, if not completed.
Dad in May, 1942, helping new arrivals at Poston I
I learned what the problem was, learned by doing and tried to combat it.
There were no cars here - I had a car so I immediately became a chaufwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
51
feur. I took Ned over to Earp to see about ice cars. We had no way of
keeping any of our food. Ned got some ice, but we could get it at Earp for
1/3 the cost at Parker.... The first day we went to engineer and placed an
order of our original registration tables. No signs on any of the blocks. No
cots, no mattresses, no nothing. At warehouses we found ticking and the
straw pile beside the windows where the garage is now located [canvas
ticks filled with straw served as mattresses].... There was a great deal of
anxiety and checking by Gelvin [Ralph M. Gelvin, Associate Project Director at Poston] and Mr. Head and then Campbell. Mr. James [Norris
James, Reports Officer at Poston] came about that time.
Some of the 1st impressions - contractors were working extremely hard. A
foreman called Slim - great big Texas fellow getting $600. per month was in complete charge. Block 6 was to be 1st and 11 the second. In going
over there we passed through block 31 & 19 where they were just putting
up the walls. I hadn't seen the main production before. Campbell explained just how we were going to fill up. The plan to start at 6 and put 6,
11, 5, 12 and then go to quad 21, 22, 27 & 28 - maybe I have left out a
quad. We expected to include 20 in total. Then next quad, 37, 38, & 39,
42, 43, & 44, 53, 54, 57, 60. It actually didn't work out that way.
In traveling with this foreman we paired with one of the night foremen Jenkins. We were talking about this and that when Slim said, Jenkins,
“better check that man over there.” And they fired a man just like that. He
just happened to be standing still. A little later they did the same with another man they found sitting down.
Water-color on paper signed: “Kakunen Tsuruoka '44”
52
The Crawfords and Rylands (Enos, Eddie, Errol, and Margaret)
They said they had so many poor men they had to fire them right off when
they stopped working. The carpenter was getting $1.50 per hour for a 10
hour day. “
(Interview stops because it is 5 PM and JC has to go.)
The day before they left for Poston, Mom wrote a letter to her Round
Robin saying she was glad to go to Poston rather than San Francisco because she was thrilled to move closer to her sister Margaret Ryland, who
lived 17 miles away at Parker Dam. She liked living in Albuquerque and
hoped they would keep their house and return after the War. Dad lived in a
dormitory in Poston while Mom and Nancy stayed 5 weeks with the Rylands. Dad then drove them back to Albuquerque, and on June 8 th wrote a
post card to Mom indicating he had arrived back at Poston and had to meet
a train of Japanese at 3:45 AM. He wrote 17 letters to Mom over the next
month, always waiting for trains in the night, fixing flat tires (one he
changed in 6 minutes), and complaining about the heat and dust:
...about two o'clock the wind from the south comes blowing and
the first thing we know it is so dusty and dirty everywhere that the
incentive to work has been completely killed. The dust gets in everywhere, even with the windows closed. It is so hot with the windows
closed that the crew can't work so we close shop. My room is pretty
hot until late at night.
...it’s pretty hot – drank 27 glasses of liquid yesterday and that
wasn’t a big day. It just falls off of me.
53
On June 27th, Dad wrote that the housing situation was still up in the
air, and listed 5 different scenarios that might occur, one of which was to
move into the house of somebody moving to Unit II. On July 2nd he wrote
that the previous night he took a cot and blanket to Unit II, put them in the
middle apartment where he could see the stars, and was the first person to
spend the night in Unit II. His letter of July 11 described his promotion,
and showed his elation at his pay raise:
My Sweetheart, As Director of Camp, I am holding up the mail
delivery man in order to write you a note. Have been so busy these
last two days - it (work) is increasing every day.
Have just finished filling out my Civil Service papers - for Assistant Project Director $4600.00 per year. I'm so elated I can
hardly wait to get a few $1 bills & a few dimes & quarters jingling
in my pocket. A dollar bill now lasts me two weeks. Guess I set my
sight too low when I dreamed about making $10.00 per day
($3660.00) Now of course I have to raise them again...
This being boss is quite a new experience to me & am I having
inward fun & outward headaches doing it.
The mail must go.
Love you so much Dear & am anxious to have you & Nancy
here. Always yours
Jim.
Dad wrote his last letter to Mom on July 16th. Mom spent June packing
and renting their house for the upcoming year, then went to Garden City
for two weeks. She met Dad at Albuquerque on July 26th and the family
immediately left Albuqu- erque for the
last time. An October 15 letter to Lulie
mentions Nancy had her 1st birthday in
Camp with 8 Japanese babies also born
in October, and their mothers. Mom
wrote 20 letters to her Round Robin
from 1942 through 1944. She wrote that
from August until December of their
first year they lived in two office rooms
in one of the administration buildings in
Front of home showing walk,
Unit II, the first Caucasian women to
fence, and adjacent barrack
54
live there. During the first week in
December they moved into a 20' x 28'
house which did not yet have hot water,
a working stove, or a heater, although
they did have use of an inadequate electric heater Enos brought from California. Mom was able to specify where the
partitions went up to create 3 rooms and
a bathroom with shower, and to design
the kitchen cabinets. They decorated the
white interior walls with Indian rugs, a
brown bear skin, and a bobcat skin (the Mom and Nancy in doorway, Dad
result of Dad’s last hunting trip in New reading paper; bobcat skin upper
left, Indian rug upper right
Mexico). Mom personally built a block
walk and white picket fence around the house, spending all of her free
time for a month (“It was such fun.”). Later some men transplanted 18
cottonwood trees from along the river, and Mom of course planted grass
and had a garden, which grew best in the winter and spring (summer temperatures up to 120°).
Mom’s tone noticeably changed about the Japanese. Before Poston,
she calls them “lousy Japs”. But by December she had made friends and
softened her tone:
We find many of the Japanese tremendously likeable. When you
know them you almost forget they are of Japanese descent. Some of
the girls are quite pretty. And those educated here seem as Americanized in their habits as any other Americans.
Back of home with sandbox and
play area for Nancy
Mom’s letters constantly talk
about the hard work Dad did. He was
often up late in meetings or talking
with people who called. One letter
talks about him registering all 800
men in Camp 2 for the draft. In March
1944 Dad himself had to take a preinduction physical for the draft. He
failed due to poor eyes and broken
bones in his cheek, and was reclassified 4F. Another letter says he was
busy day and night working on the se-
55
Water-color on cloth, unsigned
gregation program where 699 people out of 3400 in Unit II were sent to
Tule Lake Relocation Center for not pledging their loyalty to the U.S. Dad
had to personally interview every head-of-household.
In the time spent at Poston Dad had 3 vacations. In May 1943 Mom
took Nancy for 3 weeks to Garden City. Dad joined them for the last
week, and they all went to Steamboat for 8 days. In October 1943 they
went on a 1-week camping and hunting trip to the mountains around
Prescott. And in April of 1944 Dad went to Chicago for a week conference
of all Relocation Program Heads, dropping Mom and Nancy off at Garden
City for 2 weeks.
Besides the letters describing what life in Poston was like for Dad, we
have Leighton's second and third interviews. These interviews are strictly
about the organization and functioning of the Camp. Dad's job was very
similar to a Town Manager, who administers a town according to the
wishes of a town council. In Dad's case, Wade Head (and the bureaucrats
above him, all the way to FDR and his cabinet) set the rules and policies
that governed Poston. Dad took the directives from above and carried out
those polices as best he could, given that he had no control over the
budget, nor the organizational makeup of the departments, nor the personnel who were hired. He did in fact have a major role as the main point of
56
human contact between the Japanese and the administration. Here are excerpts from the second interview:
Interview with James Crawford by AHL.
4-28-43
After some preliminary detailed talk about the weather (in which JC told
me he kept a chart of daily temperature readings which he compares with
a similar set of figures kept by his brother at Parker Dam) ... I asked how
many Caucasians helped him and JC said, really none. McClaren ran the
schools and Miller and Scott lived there and ran the police, but he rarely
came in contact with them. In fact he could never find Miller when he
wanted him. He seemed to spend a lot of time in Parker, maybe it was official business, but he was getting worried about it and so was Wade. For
the most part, the evacuee heads of the different departments ran their departments and the Council and IAB don't do much. The Labor Commission and the Merit Board do a good job. JC runs the executive end of the
camp by himself. I asked if he didn't have some executive assistance, such
as Mr. Wumino in Unit 3.He said, oh, yes, George Nagano, the Block
Manager Supervisor was ex-officio actually an administrative assistant.
He is a fellow who is very popular in the camp and a great help to JC. Before evacuation, he had some low salaried job and he hasn't got too much
education, but he has done well here. Then there were some other persons
JC
Poston Unit II – photo shows about ¼ of the barracks, each 20’ x 100’.
White buildings in upper left are the staff quarters – the small white
building which is 3rd from the left is the Crawford home
57
leans on for advice. There is Herbert Yoshida, the truck dispatcher who is
an older Nisei. Then there is John Maeno, head of the Legal Department.
Mr. Doi, previously mentioned, and Mr. Miura who is supervisor of the
block gardeners. He works closely with George Nagano and while George
has contact with Niseis, Mr Miura controls the Isseis.
Water-color on cloth signed: “H. Yoshizumi '43”
I asked Mr. Crawford how he spent his day. He said half of it was out in
the field. He was constantly going around from one job to another getting
a first hand view. He tried to know as many people as possible and he felt
he did know a great many by one of three things. Face, name, present occupation. He also tried to know a little personal something about each
one, such as who grew good sweet peas so he could mention it when he
talked with them. He felt that this paid big dividends and that he was a
popular director. In the office he spends his time on the following. Checking and signing requisitions, (which doesn't take much time), signing
leave clearance (this used to take a lot of time because he liked to look up
all the facts he could about each person so he could give them a good recommendation if they deserved it), reviewing reports (every day he has reports sent in from all divisions and work projects). Also block manager
logs. Much of this is compiled and analyzed by his secretary and he sees
only final figures, but all special or unusual items she brings to his attenwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
58
tion and he makes it a point to read the complaint section of the block
manager's log. By the study of these reports, he can make best use of his
time when out and around. He can understand better what he sees.)
Straightening matters out between his Division heads and the Caucasian
staff of the branch offices and divisions. For example if his block manager's supervisor tells him they have screens in 3 and in 1, but none in 2,
how come? JC calls 1 and 3 to find out if they have - if they do he calls
Mr. Popkins to find out how come and then lets the block managers know.
I said, “Can't an executive assistant do that?” He said, yes, as a matter of
fact he did most of it. I asked did he have trouble getting things done because evacuees got the brush off from Caucasians in the administration
and other offices, and he said, no, he never had trouble that way.
He mentioned he had preached two times to the Buddhists on Sunday. He
thinks most of the bad eggs are Buddhists, but not all the Buddhists are
bad.
He said that the only vacation he had had since coming here were two saturday mornings. (2 weekends including Saturday A.M.) He feels very
much in need of a vacation now. He is at home nearly every evening and
up to 10 P.M. there is a steady stream of callers coming with various
questions.
On 4-25 while talking with Wade Head I asked him if he could work well
with JC. He said, “Oh, yes.” I asked if JC would go through with something after they had talked it over and reached an agreement. Wade said,
yes, he certainly would. In fact he was too conscientious about following
out orders.
JC was very proud of the Boy Scout troop in 2.
Water-color on cloth signed: “Kakunen Tsuruoka '42”
Dad saved many announcements, invitations and camp papers. Unit II
was a town of 5,000 people, and had many of the same events that small
59
Program for New Year's Festival Jan 1-3, 1943. Note Day 3 is “Mr. Crawford Day”,
featuring the finals of softball and basketball
towns around the country have: dances, weddings, graduations, sports
events, fairs, Scouts, meetings of the American Red Cross and Future
Farmers of America, etc.. Dad was invited to these events and often he
would have to speak, or be a judge (such as at the Coronation Ball). One
invitation was for a boxing bout to be held at the “Crawford Arena in Poston II”. Another was for a 3-day New Year's Festival, where the third day
was called “Mr. Crawford Day”. Dad was the Boy Scout Commissioner
for Poston, and Mom was an advisor to the Girl Scout Leader group. In
one month from Dec 22, 1942 to Jan 24, 1943, Dad was mentioned in 12
articles in the Poston Chronicle including two where he reported the
weather for Poston. Others were for Scout events, a talk he gave to a
Christian youth fellowship,
school ground-breaking ceremonies, and the New Year Festival. In 1944, when he was no
longer Unit II director, he is
mentioned much less often in
the paper: only seven times in a
3-month period with one article
about Scouts and the others
about his role as the local Selective Service representative
for Yuma County.
Dad also received many post
cards and letters from the Japanese, most thanking him for one
60
thing or another. Again, it is hard to know which of these are written to the
Unit Director (and would have been written to any Unit Director), and
which were to Dad as an individual. Here are excerpts from letters that
went beyond the normal bounds of politeness to express some sincere
opinions of Dad. The last letter in particular is especially poignant; it was
written by a resident of Unit I.
April 14, 1943
Mr. Crawford allow me to say frankly that you are truely a one
in a million man. You have won and still winning the admiration of
all the Japanese who have come in contact with you and known you.
I have never seen another man like you who is so kind, genial, unselfish, considerate and industrious. I can also say the same thing of
your wife she's really a wonderful person. I shall cherish your association always.
May 7, 1943
First of all, I must thank you so much for all you have done. I
really appreciate it all & never will never forget it. My folks often
speak of you and how well all the Japanese thought of you. You
should have seen them brag about you folks at Topaz.
Front steps of Crawford home.
“Nancy had her 2nd birthday last month and we did it up properly with a birthday party
with 17 children invited including Japanese, Indian, and Caucasian. Plus all their
mothers about 30 present.”
61
October 1, 1942.
Mr. James D. Crawford
Administration Building, Camp #2
Poston, Arizona.
Dear Mr. Crawford:
It is with heavy hearts that we learned of the tragedy that took
the life of one of your Camp #2 boys. Our sympathies go out to the
family of the boy and to all who knew him.
Today we learned the story of your relentless devotion to duty -how, from 10 A.M. Sunday until 6:30 Monday evening when the
body was found, you led the search; how you dived and swam up
and down the river even after all others had given up, discouraged
and exhausted; how you shouted words of encouragement to rescuers whose strength and spirits flagged. “Let's try once more,
boys”, drew out endeavors which no longer seemed possible.
That story has spread by word of mouth throughout this camp
and your name is spoken with awe and you are held in the highest
respect and esteem by all who have heard.
I am happy to be privileged to tell the people here, “Yes, Mr.
Crawford is that kind of a man”. I could have told them so long before this mishap.
Permit me to feel a deep pride in knowing you, in having worked
for you.
Differences of language, race, or religion, are barriers swept
aside when strength of character, true kindness, sympathetic understanding, and sheer heroism is revealed in a man.
It is with this feeling of gratitude, admiration, and appreciation
that I pay my respects to you.
Very Respectfully yours,
Thomas Yakura
Block 22, Apt. 14
Poston, Arizona.
62
Oil painting signed: “L. Vennimy 1943”
At the end of 1943, control of Poston was transferred from the BIA to
the WRA, and Dad’s position as Director of Unit II was abolished. On
Nov. 25, 1943, Wade Head sent out a memo saying Dad was appointed
Relocation Program Officer. The Relocation Program was started to help
any Japanese who wanted to leave Poston to find jobs and housing. Initially they were forbidden to return to the west coast, but by the middle of
1944 even that restriction was abolished. Wade Head soon left, and probably all of the BIA career employees were told to start looking for BIA
jobs elsewhere. Dad was offered a job back at the United Pueblos Agency
under his old boss, Dr. Aberle.
About this time Dad started corresponding with Ralph Gelvin about a
possible job as Superintendent of Red Lake Indian Reservation in Minnesota, once the current superintendent retired. However on Sept. 23,
1944 (the day before Sharon was born), the Commissioner of the BIA
wrote Dad that the man was not retiring, but that the BIA was offering
Dad the superintendency at Turtle Mountain Indian Reservation instead.
One week later, Dad accepted the job with the following letter:
63
September 30, 1944
Dear Mr. Commissioner:
Mr. Mills had spoken to me about the possibility of returning to
the Indian Service and I am very happy to accept the superintendency at Turtle Mountain Agency, Belcourt, North Dakota. My acceptance is accompanied by a deep feeling of humbleness, and an
eagerness to assist in the problems involved in such an important
and responsible position.
Both Mrs. Crawford and I were disappointed in the failure of the
Red Lake superintendency to materialize. As you know, we have
been anticipating the Red Lake assignment since November 1943,
and had so directed our plans. However, we appreciate being given
this opportunity to accept a substitute agency.
I am available immediately; that is, as soon as the transfer can
be accomplished and my property accounts can be attended to here.
It will be possible to turn over my work at any time to my assistant.
The thirty months away from normal Indian Service work leaves
me with a feeling that I need some time to devote to Indian Service
policy, present conditions, and anticipated future planning, particularly in regard to the situation at Turtle Mountain. What arrangement can be made for my indoctrination?
My family consists of my wife and two daughters, one daughter
three years old, and a baby born this week. It will be necessary for
us to drive our car through to our destination. Mrs. Crawford desires to visit her parents in Garden City, Kansas, for a few days en
route.
I am deeply appreciative to you and Dr. Aberle for my Poston assignment. To have worked with such men as Mr. Head, Mr. Gelvin,
Mr. Evans, and Mr. Mills, and many others, has greatly broadened
my perspective and increased my capacities.
I will be awaiting instructions from you.
Sincerely yours,
James D. Crawford
64
Mom and Sharon outside home at Poston
Exactly 2½ years since arriving at Poston, the Crawfords left on Nov
3, 1944. Unlike his previous 4 years in Albuquerque and 5 years in California, Dad had an opportunity to make a real difference in the lives of
several thousand people. He rose to the task and gained valuable experience that he could directly use over the next 10 years of his 3 superintendencies. He also made some Japanese friends that he would write to all his
life.
Finally, I must include in this chapter what I learned directly from
Nancy, Mom, and Dad about Poston. Nancy was only three when the family moved to Belcourt, so she really does not have any direct memories.
But the one thing that sticks in her mind is the rabbits. Irrigation ditches
were built around Poston so the Japanese could grow commercial crops on
adjacent farmland, and these farms included areas for hogs and chicken.
But animals were not allowed in the living areas of the Camp. Nancy
thinks that through Dad's help, the Japanese raised rabbits to supplement
their food. We don't know whether Dad helped get the rabbits, or just
turned his back to allow the activity under the table, and we don’t know if
the rabbits were raised among the barracks or on one of the farms. One of
Dad’s unwritten stories about his Poston experience he titled “Rabbit raising illegally”. Dad and Mom themselves raised chickens, receiving 50
baby chicks from Montgomery Ward on May 1, 1944. They also had 17
hens laying an average of 8 eggs a day, and a black cocker spaniel named
Cappy. Cappy would remain with the family through 4 different moves
until succumbing to old age in Billings. And rabbits would once again
enter into Dad’s life in Keams Canyon and Poplar.
65
Water-color on paper by unknown artist (digging the irrigation canals)
The other thing Nancy remembered from Poston was the swimming
pool. One of the irrigation canals went through Unit II, and a swimming
pool was built with the canal water. The water was brown, but nobody
minded. The temperature on most summer days was over 100°, and often
over 110°, so the water would have felt cooling despite the mud. Nancy
remembers all the mothers sitting besides the pool with their feet dangling
in the water.
I only remember Mom mentioning one thing about Poston: the dust
and wind and heat. Actually, I only remember her mentioning one thing
about Belcourt too: the snow and wind and cold. And I don't remember
her ever mentioning Albuquerque, Keams Canyon, or Poplar. She was
probably happy to not have to worry about the constant dust with a new
born baby. Fortunately she did describe her life in the many Round Robin
letters she wrote. She was good at describing her current life, just not very
good about telling stories of her past.
Dad never talked about Poston or Belcourt either, but I think that was
because he was too busy telling stories about fishing and hunting and
growing up in Steamboat. When I graduated from college, Dad and I
drove from Pasadena up to Seattle and had many hours to talk. Because I
thought the Relocation Camps were some kind of prisoner-of-war camps, I
66
asked Dad if he ever felt scared. He said only once, during the strike in
Unit I. The strike occurred around Thanksgiving of 1942. A bunch of Japanese men in Unit I beat another resident because they considered him a
stool-pigeon for the FBI. The police (i.e. a Caucasian sheriff) arrested two
men with the intent of turning them over to the FBI to have them tried in
Phoenix. Supporters of these two men assumed that meant they would be
convicted, and promoted a general strike of Unit I to demand the sheriff
release the two suspects. For a week, there were bonfires and vigils outside the jail, preventing all activities within Unit I except for meals. Unfortunately, Wade Head was out-of-town when it happened, and basically
nothing could proceed until he returned.
Dad told me that the strike did not directly affect Unit II, but that there
were many discussions in Unit II about whether they should strike also.
He learned that one evening some of the “young hotheads” were going to
have a secret meeting in the basement of one of the buildings (this was
probably one of the tornado cellars). He went to the meeting unannounced
and without any weapon or military police to protect him. He told me that
he was worried that he might be physically hurt, but he wanted to show
them that he personally would never do anything that might hurt them. He
talked to them awhile, calmed some of their worries, and left, and he said
he never had any trouble after that.
Water-color on cloth signed: “H. Yoshizumi '43”
67
Dad acquired a few prized possessions
made by the Japanese at Poston. On Dad's
desk, he had a fancy nameplate with his
name inlaid on one side, photos of Mom
and Nancy on the other, and little containers on top for paper clips. A similar
wooden box with “Mother” inlaid on top
was kept unused in a drawer. In our family
room he had a chest of drawers with a drop
leaf desk top and three shelves enclosed in
glass, that held Dad’s Hopi Kachina doll
collection. Carved in the decoration on the
top was “Poston II Arizona Carpenter”. I
always assumed it was just the Kachina
dolls inside that were special, but I now
also cherish the cabinet itself. In our basement we always had stored six cedar
trunks made by the Japanese that were invaluable for the long moves the family
made in the 40s and 50s. Finally, in Dad's
workshop in a garage in back of our house
in Billings were the familiar faces of
Washington and Lincoln, carved in wood
with a crude stick frame around them. Dad
chest of drawers and shelves
always raised the American flag on the appropriate holidays, and these two faces
seemed like one other example of his patriotic spirit.
Finally, the paintings that I have included in this chapter were all
drawn by Japanese artists. Dad never displayed them, and I don't know
how he acquired them; I assume they were given to him as gifts.
Top: two views of nameplate box inlaid “James D. Crawford” and “Smile”
Bottom: top of simple box inlaid with “Mother”
68
Wood carvings of presidents signed: “Teruo Kasamatsu”
Bibliography of books about Poston:
Bailey, Paul: City in the Sun - The Japanese Concentration Camp at Poston, Arizona, 1971 [mainly Poston I].
Franchi, Ray, Through Innocent Eyes - Writings and Art from the Japanese American Internment by Poston I Schoolchildren, 1990 [Dad is
mentioned on page 74].
Gesensway, Deborah & Roseman, Mindy: Beyond Words: Images from
America’s Concentration Camps, 1987 [dozens of paintings of Poston
including two by Tsuruoka and two by Yoshizumi].
Hayashi, Brian Masaru: Democratizing the Enemy: The Japanese American Internment, 2004 [mentions Dad].
Hirabayashi, Lane Ryo: The Politics of Fieldwork - Research in an American Concentration Camp, 1999 [mainly Poston I].
Leighton, Alexander H., The Governing of Men. General Principles and
Recommendations Based on Experience at a Japanese Relocation
Camp, 1945 [mainly Poston I; Dad mentioned only by title].
Matsuoka, Jack: Camp II, Block 211 Daily Life in an Internment Camp,
1974 [cartoons about camp life].
Nishimoto, Richard S. (ed. Hirabayashi, Lane Ryo): Inside an American
Concentration Camp - Japanese American Resistance at Poston, Arizona, 1995 [mainly Poston I].
Oppenheim, Joanne: Dear Miss Breed, 2006 [an excellent, very moving
discussion of the personal experiences of San Diego children internees
who lived in Poston III].
69
70
7. Belcourt, North Dakota
The family drove from Poston to Belcourt via Garden City and Beloit,
and Dad took a side trip by bus to Steamboat Springs. They reached their
new home on November 12, 1944, and Dad started work on the 13 th. He
had moved a big step up the civil service ladder from his days at the
United Pueblos Agency, where he was one of the administrative personnel
under the superintendent. Now he was the superintendent. However he
took a pay cut from his $4600 position at Poston to only $3800 at Belcourt, which was offset by the much larger government supplied house.
On July 1, 1945, his pay was increased to $4300 for a civil service grade
CAF-11; May 19, 1946 it was increased again to $4410; on July 1, 1946 it
rose to $5152.80; and probably July 1, 1947 it became $5,403.60.
The Turtle Mountain Indian Reservation was small: just two townships
of land for a population around 3,500. The Indians were Chippewas, but a
typewritten report among Dad’s letters stated that they had more French
blood than Indian blood, and that 75% of them had facial features that
would not be recognized as Indian in a crowd. The report went on to say
the people have “the fine human qualities of integrity, energy, ingenuity
and thrift”, but not enough land to sustain them economically which led to
many social problems (drinking, fights, promiscuity, broken families, etc.)
The report ended by suggesting the government should spend 4½ million
dollars to buy adjacent land to make the reservation 10 times larger.
Dad was in charge of a dozen local Indian Service employees. The
policy and budget for the Agency was handled by the Indian Service Office in Chicago, or the District Area Office in Billings, which covered all
of the reservations in Montana, Wyoming, Nebraska, and the Dakotas. In a
letter to the Commissioner on February 7, 1945, Dad detailed the personnel issues the Agency had such as people leaving, positions unfilled, and
too much work. He ends the letter with:
I find the work at Turtle Mountain most interesting and certainly challenging. The residents are most appreciative and cooperative and many
programs can be developed by proper understanding. I have found the climatic conditions, the personnel and the problems all most acceptable.
A large part of Dad's work involved the economic and social welfare
of the Indians. He went to many meetinings to help the Indians start a Coop. He also traveled a lot to attend superintendents' conferences in
Montana and South Dakota, meet with Canadian officials in Winnipeg, go
to the Indian Service office in Chicago, escort Indians to hospitals in Minwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
71
neapolis and Washington
DC, and even to pick up
school buses from Carson,
Nevada. In the first six
months of 1946 he went on
five trips lasting 25 days.
During a similar period in
1947 he went on five trips
lasting 34 days. He was reimbursed for these trips for
actual car expenses (he
Mom, Nancy, Sharon, and Mom's parents at
would drive government
Garden City, November 10, 1944
cars) plus $6 per diem. In
1945 William A Brophy
was appointed Commissioner; he was Dad’s former classmate at the U. of
Colorado, and the husband of Dad’s old boss at Albuquerque, Dr. Aberle.
Dad said he enjoyed going into the Commissioner’s office and saying
“Hello Bill”.Dad also had to deal with any crises that occurred on the reservation. Some were just reports of run-away or promiscuous children
that school personnel would recommend be sent to reformatory schools. In
his first month he had to find two AWOL soldiers, one who had been hiding out in the forest for months, and talk them into taking the trains back
to their units. Once he was summoned to
a local fire that killed three children. Dad
wrote a report of the fire for his files in
which he described that he helped carry
two of the bodies out of the house after
the fire was put out. Another time a man
was run over by a car and died three days
later. The FBI were stumped. Somebody
gave a tip to Dad, who then interviewed
six different men who were in the car, and
when their stories all disagreed, he talked
to each again until finally he got the
driver to confess. In a letter written
September 22, 1946, Mom complained
that she had to listen for two hours while
an excited Indian woman voiced her complaints to Dad in their living room, on Dad, Nancy, Sharon, and Aunt
Grace at Beloit, November 11,
1944
72
Sunday no less. The night before another woman showed up in the evening to report her drunken husband had just beaten her and taken their four
children with him in the car. Dad and the peace officer spent 3½ hours
trailing him until they finally stopped him and retrieved the children with
no coats and no car windows on a cold night.
Dad was a member of the Rolla
Chamber of Commerce (Rolla was a
town of 1000 just off the reservation
seven miles from Belcourt), organized a Boy Scout Council, and spent
half his evenings attending parent
meetings in the five school districts
on the reservation. The superintendent of the school district was Glenn
Lundeen. The Lundeens became life
long family friends. Myrtle Lundeen
was a 6th grade teacher and led the
Sunday School, while their two sons
were playmates of Nancy.
Dad hunted as much as possible.
Belcourt, November 1944
House is at top of photo
In his first two weeks at Belcourt, he
went pheasant hunting twice, and he
always got fishing and big game licenses. Soon winter came with its
fierce 30° below weather, which
meant Dad could once again enjoy
snow for skiing. He bought skiis for
the kids and taught them how on the
slopes around the house. When there
was no snow, he would take Nancy
ice skating to the flooded tennis
courts across the street.
Dad in backyard
School in background
The house seemed palatial after
the cramped conditions in Poston.
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Mom described it in a letter:
…large basement with room for our
car, a very convenient laundry, a fruit
and food storage room, and furnace
room. The garage part has 2 long lines
for hanging clothing. Also enough room
for Nancy to play, or for a ping pong
table.
House is built side ways on a slight
incline. You climb the steps to the kitchen and also to the back door. We
have a kitchen, dining room, living
room, bathroom, hall and 2 bedrooms
on main floor, and a very nice large
room upstairs. Electric stove for cooking. Fireplace in living room. P.O. and
store only 1/2 block away.
Dad and Nancy on skiis
Another time she added that the house had clothes chutes to the basement, a laundry room, heated double garage, automatic heat control, hardwood floors, fine furniture, and a bathtub, and the outdoor yards felt like it
was an estate. There was
plenty of land around the
home, and Mom was able to
have a large 12 ft by 65 ft
garden in which she planted
23 different vegetables. She
wrote it was the best garden
she ever had, and that even
with a short three month
growing season, the long
Sharon’s first time on skiis – March 1946
days of sunlight meant
everything grew fast. Dad helped Mom plant the seeds, and he used the
hand cultivator to make nice and straight rows. Dad put out 13 bird boxes
which he made, and Mom marveled at the variety of birds: Baltimore orioles, blue birds, western kingbirds, yellow canaries, goldfinch, tree swallows, wrens, and purple martins. A large 3-story brick school was just
across an open field to the southeast, and the hospital a block to the west.
The front, north side of the house bordered a sidewalk-only boulevard that
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led east half a block to Dad’s office.
Living in Albuquerque was just a moderate train ride from family in
Garden City, and living in Poston was just a half hour drive to Mom’s sister Margaret at Parker Dam. However living in Belcourt felt like being at
the end of the earth. They were 900 miles from Garden City or Denver,
with no possibility of going by train (or plane). Dad’s father planned to
visit them, to see Sharon for the first time, soon after he retired in January
of 1945. However he only made it as far as Denver. While staying with his
sister Lulie, he saw doctors who found an ulcer at the end of the stomach
and a lump where he had once had a hernia operation. On Feb. 14th, Lulie
wrote that no operation was needed and everybody was hopeful a good
diet would suffice. By March 15th he still was unable to eat anything, and
the doctor finally suspected a malignant tumor. He entered St. Joseph’s
Hospital on March 16th and died March 21st. Dad drove down on the 19th
and was with him for two days.
Plowing Mom's garden – south and west sides of house
In September the family took a 12 day trip to Garden City, possibly in
the 1941 Plymouth that Dad inherited from his father. They drove
overnight, stopping for only a 2 hour nap, because Sharon got car sick and
they felt it was best to drive while Sharon slept. Dad then drove to Denver
and Steamboat for six days, and came back with Uncle Logan. Uncle Logan was the first relative to visit them in Belcourt, but unfortunately after
two weeks he had some medical problem, was sick for two weeks and
ended up in the hospital. He needed better care than the local doctors
could provide, so Dad, the doctor, and one other man drove Logan in 24
hours back to Denver where he immediately had an operation and recovered.
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The following year tragedy occurred on Mom’s side of the family. In
spite of his being 68 years old, Grandfather Stoeckly continued to work at
the sugar beet factory. Mom let her feelings known in a letter to her sisters
on July 28, 1946:
…can’t understand Dad getting all involved with enlarging the
power house doing more work than ever – when he should be retiring. I believe he never will quit. But I don’t like it, at all.
As often happened, Mom was interrupted and wrote no more after the
above sentences until over a month later:
…I can scarcely find words to say what I want to say. A week ago
yesterday Dad was working hard--- today he has gone to the great
beyond…
On August 31 when her father watched an employee make a routine
check of the sugar beet factory’s power plant switchgear, a circuit was accidentally closed, causing 3,000 volts of electricity to bridge a gap and
burn him on the head and shoulders. He was recovering in the hospital
four days later when a nurse making night rounds found him dead on the
floor by his bed. Mom was unable to be there because Dad was in
Montana for meetings and was unreachable, Mom couldn’t drive by herself with the children, had no one to leave the children with, and could not
get to Garden City by train.
A month later the family drove to Garden City for a three week stay to
be with Mom’s mother. Dad took a side trip to Steamboat Springs, where
he went elk hunting and brought back 20 lbs of meat after giving the rest
to his relatives. Nancy attended kindergarten during this visit. Mom’s letters constantly talked about how Nancy was generally bored in Belcourt
and spent summers outdoors all
the time (Mom was out all the
time gardening) and winters skiing with Dad. Sharon, on the other hand, was always in motion
and was not safe anywhere except
in her playpen or swing. She
mimicked everything Nancy did
and said, and they both had to
have identical dolls and doll
clothes for peace in the house.
Cranberry picking – October 1945
Mom said Sharon went to bed and
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got dressed without any problem,
and was “such a good baby”.
Nancy had mild chicken pox two
years in a row; two weeks after the
second time, Sharon came down
with a bad case, covered from hair
to toes with pox.
John was born on January 13,
1947. Aunt Erika came and took
care of the girls while Mom stayed
in the hospital for 9 days (hospital
cost was $36). The day they came
After baptism of John – March 30, 1947 home from the hospital Dad left
for a two-day conference in
Billings. John was a large baby at 8 lbs 7 oz. and was “really about as
good a baby as they come.” Mom was as busy as ever, especially since
Dad was gone all but 8 days in June and another week in July. To add to
the work, in August Dad took over the superintendent’s job for the Ft. Totten Indian Reservation. Dad had to drive 100 miles there once a week in
addition to his Turtle Mt. work.
This arrangement, however, was to be short-lived: on September 7 th
the Indian Service asked Dad to transfer to the Hopi Indian Reservation in
Arizona. Mom said they liked
their home in Belcourt and it was
hard to leave their friends, but the
biggest drawback there was the
cold winters, and Dad “never particularly enjoyed working with the
type of Indians we found there –
mostly half breeds and the biggest
problem is relief plus low or no
morals.” After Dad took one final
trip to Chicago while Mom
packed, the family left Belcourt on
Sharon’s 3rd birthday, September
Summer 1947
24, and headed to Arizona.
77
78
8. Keams Canyon, Arizona
After stops to see Mt. Rushmore, Mom’s sister Margaret in Denver,
and Mom’s mother in Garden City, the family arrived at Keams Canyon
October 1, 1947. Mom described the house in glowing terms: "We really
have a mansion to live in. There are 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, 2 halls, 2
porches, very large living room, large dining & nice size kitchen. Ceilings
are all 10 ft high and the house is built of solid native stone walls 15"
thick. The living room is 20' by 30' with dark wood vegas and cream
painted walls and native stone fireplace." Nancy entered first grade at the
two-teacher public school with ten children in her class. By October of
1948, the school was in a new building and Mom was the chairman of the
Public School Board.
We don’t know as much about life in Keams Canyon as we do about
Belcourt because we only have three letters Mom wrote from Keams
Canyon to her Round Robin. However we know a lot about Dad’s work
because we have his Superintendent’s files: over 2000 copies of all letters
and memos that Dad wrote during his time in Hopiland, as he called it.
The Hopi Indians were very different from the Chippewas; in fact, the
Hopis are a unique group among all the American Indians. The Hopi civilization is the oldest continuous civilization in the continental U.S.: the village of Old Oraibi dates back to 1100 AD, 440 years before Coronado’s
men first wandered through Hopiland. The Spaniards controlled the territory for a hundred years, and even converted one village to Christianity,
but they couldn’t find any way to exploit the Hopis because their land is a
semi-desert and has none of the precious metals found elsewhere. Once
the Spaniards left, the Hopis were pretty much left alone by everyone except the adjacent Navajos. The two tribes have completely different cultures: whereas the Navajos are solitary sheep herders scattered throughout
four states, the Hopis are village dwellers dependent on their dry farming
skills to eke out an existence on what is probably the least productive agricultural land in the US. The annual rainfall is only 5” to 10”, half of it as
snow, making the land a semi-desert not even suitable for game such as
antelope or deer. The Hopis grow mainly corn, but also some beans, peppers, apricots, and peaches and they graze a few cows and sheep. They are
masters of their techniques of watering each corn stalk individually. Their
entire culture and religion centers around the growing season, and to bring
rain and good fortune to the crops. They have many dances, including the
popular snake dance which uses live rattlesnakes.
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Hopi mesa with village on top – photo taken by Dad about 1949
The Hopi reservation is one of the few Indian reservations that contains all of the ancestral lands of the tribe. In fact the reservation is entirely
surrounded by the Navajo Indian reservation, and land disputes have arisen not from the white man trying to take over the land, but from the
Navajo. There has always been friction between the village-dwelling, agricultural Hopis and the scattered, but more numerous Navajo. In the past
100 years the Hopis have leased some of their land to the Navajo for grazing, but think the Navajos have encroached on more than just the leases.
The U.S. Supreme Court has had to step in several times to draw boundaries and force the relocation of some Navajos, and neither side is happy.
When Dad worked there, Hopiland had about 4000 Hopis on 3,863
square miles of land, about the same number of people as Turtle Mt. but
on 50 times the land. Only 7130 acres were cultivated using dry farm
methods and 27 acres were irrigated gardens. There were two coal mines
operated by the Hopi Agency producing 3000 tons of coal per year for use
on the reservation. Five day schools and two boarding schools taught 925
students, 150 of which were Navajos. The Hopis lived in 12 villages
clustered on three mesas in the western half of the reservation, one of
which was started by a group of migrant Tewa Indians and still spoke a
different language from the rest of the villages. Ten miles east of the
nearest village was Keams Canyon, where the Indian Service Agency was
located. The Canyon, as Dad sometimes called it, had a Catholic Church, a
Baptist Church, Post Office, two trading posts, café, the Agency hospital
(one doctor and seven nurses), the Agency boarding school, one public
school, and the Agency headquarters including Dad’s office, a power
80
plant, machine shop, and living quarters
for all of the Agency employees.
The principal functions of the Indian
Service in Hopiland, according to a fact
sheet put out by the Agency, was to
provide 1) limited health service (half of
the patients at the Keams Canyon Hospital
were Navajo), 2) education through high
school, 3) technical advice about land uses,
4) maintenance of primary roads (all roads
were dirt), 5) assistance with Law and Order (there were three part-time Indian Police and one Indian Judge), and 6) a very
limited amount of relief for the old, blind
and crippled. This was not quite the “city
Nancy, John, and Sharon on
manager” type job Dad had at Poston,
front steps – January 1949
where Dad carried out the policies of the
people who governed the camp. In Keams Canyon, the Indian Service did
not govern the reservation, but only ran the limited number of programs
listed above. In fact, nobody governed the reservation: each village governed itself independently.
Dad arrived in Hopiland during the
midst of a crisis caused by drought.
“Starving Navajos” and “needy Hopis”
were making national headlines, and one
of the first things Dad had to do was escort three different Congressional Committees around the reservation. The investigators included Senator Butler of
Nebraska, Senator McFarland of Arizona, Representative D’Ewart of
Montana, and Representative Jensen of
Iowa. This was not to be his only contact
with politicians; in 1950 he responded to
a letter about motor freight regulation to
Barry Goldwater, two years before Goldwater was elected to the US Senate.
Sharon, Mom, Dad, and Cappy
in front yard
As Superintendent, Dad was in
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charge of 237 Agency employees: 123 full time and 114 part time. Only
49 full time and 1 part time employees were white, the rest Hopi and
Navajo Indians. Dad was proud that the percentage of Indians was so high,
and once responded to the father of a Hopi woman who was not hired by
the agency and who charged the Agency with favoring whites, that he personally always chose an Indian over a white when presented with two candidates who fulfilled the Civil Service requirements. (In her case, she was
fired from her job at the Navajo Agency for incompetence, which meant
she no longer qualified for the Civil Service jobs available in Hopiland).
A large part of Dad’s correspondence involved personnel issues: responding to job inquiries, hiring and firing of people, dealing with transfers within the Indian Service, requesting job title changes, memos about
specific problems with employees (e.g. drinking on the job), and writing
thank you letters to employees who were leaving. All of the Agency was
under Civil Service regulations, which meant Dad was not directly involved with pay rates or raises. Each job was classified for a certain grade
level, which along with a person’s years of experience at that level, determined the salary. Actual job applications were handled by the Civil Service office in San Francisco. In one letter urging Washington to upgrade
some jobs for more money, Dad wrote that 22 out of 50 white workers
New Years Eve Party in living room – Mom and John on the right – note Kachina
dolls along back wall - 1949
82
Christmas Day party in dining room – note chocolate stars, not moons - 1949
quit in 1947 because their salaries were too low and not competitive even
with other Indian Service jobs because of harsher living conditions. Not
only did the people living in Keams Canyon have to deal with isolation –
65 miles over dirt roads to the nearest town of Holbrook – but they also
had to live in government housing with primitive infrastructure such as
direct current wiring and sporadic phone service.
Several times Dad wrote memos to himself to add to the file. These
were usually recounting his version of any incident that could potentially
end up in court, such as the time he was called to a trading post where a
loud alcohol-induced argument was occurring. Or the time one of his division heads came in with an employee that was drunk; when Dad concurred
with the division head’s recommendation to either suspend the employee
for two weeks or fire him outright, the drunk employee threatened the division head.
Another large part of the correspondence was to other Indian Service
Agencies (mainly Turtle Mountain at Belcourt, Colorado River at Parker,
and Navajo at Winslow), to the Area Office in Phoenix, and to the Commissioner’s Office in Washington. His letters to Belcourt were usually to
answer inquires they had about events that happened during his time there.
However one issue dragged on for a couple years: a $35 debt one of the
83
Keams Canyon from top of mesa looking northwest – Crawford home hidden by
large stone building on the right – about 1949
Indians had at the Co-op that the Area Office determined was Dad’s personal responsibility. Dad repeatedly asked Belcourt to find the person
(eventually they did, in jail for drunkenness), and help him find part-time
jobs to repay the debt.
His letters to Parker were to Superintendent Ralph Gelvin, who he
knew from Poston, and revolved around the relocation program where a
few dozen Hopi and Navajo families were allowed to transfer to the Colorado River Reservation to obtain land that was newly irrigated by the Japanese during the war. One Indian that moved was one of Dad’s employees, Albert Yawa. He had worked at Keams Canyon for 38 years, and was
so valuable for his knowledge of the Hopis that Dad maintained him on
his payroll. Every two weeks Dad mailed him his paycheck, along with a
long letter describing any new issues, plus personal notes.
His letters to the Area Office included ones about the Southwest Indian Superintendents’ Conference held quarterly in Phoenix. In 1950 Dad
was the Chairman of the conference when Commissioner Myers canceled
the group because he said the Area Office should handle such meetings.
While in Phoenix Dad would also meet with a wide variety of other
people. During the December 13, 1948 meetings he talked with the State
Parole Board, the FBI, the State Department of Education, the U.S. District Attorney, and several machine companies (looking for repair parts).
Dad also traveled to Washington D.C. at least once or twice a year,
84
and his letters often referred to commitments he received there during
meetings with various individuals, but which were never carried out.
These letters often pertained to budgetary matters, since Dad had no control over the budget other than making itemized lists of what he felt the
Agency needed. Ultimately, Congress and the President allocated money
to the Indian Service, and the Commissioner’s office created the detailed
line-item budget to be adhered to. For example, one letter involved
$18,265 left in one budget account that Dad wanted approval to spend on
seven different projects involving wiring, heating, and water systems in
the Agency buildings.
There were certainly plenty of other reasons Dad had to write to Washington. Sometimes he asked them for forms, pamphlets, or information
(e.g. what was the status of land leased to the Mennonites for a church that
burned down and was no longer being used), and sometimes he supplied
information Washington asked of him. One of the biggest issues discussed
in these letters was the formation of the Hopi Tribal Council. The Council
had originally been organized in 1936 but had only lasted six years. Dad
spent a lot of time talking to all the leaders of the villages about what advantages the Hopis would see if they formed the Council again. The two
most pressing needs for a Council were to submit any land claims the
Hopis had against the US or Navajos, which the Supreme Court or Congress said had to be done by August 13, 1951; and to grant or deny oil
leases on the reservation. Dozens of oil companies sent Dad letters asking
about oil leases, and Dad always responded that the Indian Service had
Keams Canyon from top of mesa by water towers looking westCrawford home in center, hospital on the right – about 1949
85
nothing to do with leases, that it was a matter that only a Tribal Council
could decide. He finally succeeded: a new Council started again in 1950.
He attended all of the meetings as an observer, and had his office type up
and distribute the minutes of the meetings, but he purposely stayed handsoff. Whenever somebody, including Hopis, requested he take up a matter
with the Council, he stated that it would be highly inappropriate for him to
lobby in the governmental affairs of the Hopis.
Washington wasn’t the only one asking Dad for information. At times,
it seemed Dad acted like the Hopi Chamber of Commerce responding to
inquiries about visiting the reservation, or buying Hopi arts and crafts, or
having Hopis participate in area art shows or dancing exhibitions. One request for Kachina dolls came from France, another request for information
came from Spain. Other requests came from academics who were studying
the Hopi culture. Dad wrote a half dozen letters to Harold S. Colton, who
was with the Museum of Northern Arizona and who visited the reservation
and met Dad several times. In 1959 Colton wrote the book, “Hopi
Kachina Dolls with a Key to their Identification”, which is the best, most
complete guidebook to Kachina dolls.
Another author whom Dad met and corresponded with over a dozen
times was Walter O’Kane, author of the book “Sun in the Sky” about his
personal experiences when he visited Hopiland. During the 1940s. Dad
read a draft copy of the book and wrote
a half dozen pages of corrections and
comments which O’Kane incorporated.
The book was published in 1950, with
Dad in the acknowledgements. Dad
liked the book so much that he several
times wrote the Commissioner’s Office
urging them to buy multiple copies of
the book to be read by all Indian Service personnel dealing with the Hopis,
and he ordered 30 copies for his employees.
Dad’s Kachina doll collection
Dad corresponded every few
months with the American Friends Society in Pasadena, CA, about several
programs they ran for the Hopis. One
program involved busing 18 Hopi chil-
86
John on tractor with chickens and swings in the background – about 1949
dren to San Francisco and Los Angeles to live with Friends families for
the summer. Dad gave his full support to this program and coordinated
with the school principals in selecting the children and working out the logistics.
One of Dad’s biggest headaches in his first two years was the procurement of war surplus material for use on the reservation. This provided a
big opportunity for the Agency to obtain supplies such as trucks, ambulances, generators, and Quonset huts at cheap rates, often free except for
transportation. Once the material was identified and appropriate authorization was obtained both from the Commissioner’s Office and from the
Army or Navy, Dad would send several of his employees to San Francisco
or San Diego or Albuquerque or some other location to drive the equipment back. He always wrote letters-of-introduction for these men; one
time it was over ten men to drive back Jeeps that were available. The most
frustration transaction was for Quonset huts. Early in 1948 he had found a
Navy source that would give them free to the Indian Service; Dad only
needed to come up with $5000 for 60 huts to cover transportation. He obtained approval from Washington for the funds through some government
program, but before he could contact the Area Office in Phoenix to get a
purchase order, the program was suspended awaiting some Congressional
vote. Months later, when the funds came available, the Navy had already
given away their supply of Quonset huts, and Dad had to wait almost a
year before more huts became available. This time he obtained the purchase order only to find that the Navy had not reserved enough huts. Dad
wrote a rather angry letter to Washington pleading them to contact the
Navy themselves to try to get the huts. He outlined what the huts were gowww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
87
Crawford home in center looking east, modern hospital on left, water towers at top
of mesa – photo taken October 16, 1994
ing to be used for: school classrooms, staff housing, machine shops, work
areas for arts and crafts, garages for the motor fleet, etc., and how their absence was affecting many areas, e.g. they could not hire some employees
that were budgeted and needed because all available family housing was
full.
Lack of housing was always an issue for Dad. Dad was in essence the
landlord for all of the employees who lived at Keams Canyon. He would
post regulations concerning dogs or noise or parties, and shuffle families
from one house to another whenever somebody left. For a while, he could
only accept new hires that were single because they could pay $45 per
month for board and a furnished room with a semi-private bath at the Employees Club. One of Dad’s harshest letters was written to a manager of
the Club who was reassigned to a job with the Area Office and who took
all of the records with him, along with $338.62. After several attempts to
rectify the situation, including letters to the man’s new boss, Dad wrote
that the man had lied repeatedly and if he did not return the records and
money, the Club would hire a private attorney, and Dad would write to the
Commissioner and Civil Service Commission (which would effectively
end the man’s career with the Indian Service). Dad showed in a number of
cases that he could forgive a person for stealing money if the person gave
the money back, but Dad was exceedingly honest, and could not tolerate
somebody who lied.
Dad perceived his job was to do anything he could to help the Hopi
88
people. He wrote in a letter to a teacher about “… aiding all Indian people
to help themselves to become the part of our Nation that they so rightfully
deserve.” He often ended letters by thanking the person for helping the
Hopis or being interested in the welfare of the Hopis, such as: “Your
splendid cooperation and sympathetic understanding of our problems are
deeply appreciated.” He dealt with many personal problems of Hopi individuals such as life insurance claims, divorce proceedings, debts, medical
problems, parole hearings, and child support payments. He was really acting as the interface between the white world and the Hopis, especially the
older traditionalists who were illiterate or who didn’t even speak English.
At times Dad’s involvement was simple and straight-forward, such as
sending to a movie company a release signed by a Hopi giving his permission to be in the movie “Jim Thorpe – All American”.
However some of these
cases involved many letters
such as one that involved at
least a couple dozen letters
about the death of a Hopi in
California. Initially, it was
thought that the man was struck
by a train, and Dad corresponded with the life insurance
company holding a policy on
the man. But there were rumors
about the man last being seen
drinking with two other Indians, and Dad had to write several times to the local sheriff
requesting that the sheriff look John, Sharon, and Nancy skiing in front
into the possibility that it was
yard with hospital in the background
not a train accident. It was over
a year before he wrote his penultimate letter to the insurance company: he
agreed with the insurance company in their finding that the man was
murdered and therefore the company was not liable. However Dad ended
his letter with a personal appeal:
... The mother and children of Richard Blacksheep, deceased,
live a few miles from Keams Canyon. Although they are not
starving, they are far below the average Navajo family. Their resources are very limited; the season is very dry and there are poswww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
89
sibilities of considerable hardship during the coming months. I feel
sure that you and members of the Association would perhaps be
willing to grant a contribution to the welfare of this family. I can
certainly assure you that it will be gratefully received and well used
by the family. Betty, Kee, and Jerry Blacksheep, ages 17, 12, and
10, respectively, have not had the privilege of attending school.
Hoskie Blacksheep, the mother, has been blind for many years and
is only able to take care of the children through the assistance of
her sister and other members of her family....
In his last letter to the company, Dad thanked them for sending a contribution.
When asked later in life which Indians he liked best, Dad always
answered the Hopis because of their culture and their farming skill and
their foresight of never expecting the crops to be bountiful. When they did
have a good harvest, they would divide the crop into three parts, one for
each of the next three years, in case the crops failed. But just as Poston
had the heat and dust, and Belcourt had the snow and cold, Keams Canyon
had its isolation, 65 miles away from modern civilization over dirt roads
that became impassable for several days every time it rained. In November
of 1950 Dad requested a transfer by September 1953 because there was no
high school in Keams Canyon for Nancy to attend. He gave as acceptable
locations Albuquerque (where he stated he still owned his home), Carson
Agency in Nevada, Colville and Yakima Agencies in Washington, and
Wind River Agency in Wyoming. He also wanted a promotion to GS-13 at
a salary of $7600. (On January 22, 1950, Dad’s salary was raised from
$6000 to $6200, and it was raised again in October, 1950.)
On January 11, 1951, Washington responded by calling him with an
offer to transfer to Fort Peck Agency in Poplar, Montana, with a promotion to GS-12. After consulting with Mom, he replied that they wanted to
stay in Keams Canyon at least another year because they did not want to
return to cold country with young children. However Commissioner Myer
spoke to Dad directly, and he reluctantly agreed to go immediately.
On January 25th Dad must have spent a long emotional day at work
typing over 60 letters he sent to his employees, associates, and Hopi
friends. Each letter thanked the person for his hard work and dedication to
improving life on the reservation and for helping Dad during his time in
Hopiland. He complemented his employees for the various skills they possessed, and encouraged them to continue working hard. Each letter was
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unique, always filling one page and sometimes spilling over onto a second
page. Dad had done the same thing when leaving Belcourt, but then he
only wrote 11 short letters, one addressed to all 8 of his division heads. He
also wrote a similar thank-you letter to five of his key employees on his
one year anniversary working at Keams Canyon.
The overall impression I have from Dad’s correspondence was that
Dad was excellent at his job. He treated his employees, his employers, the
Hopi people, and the general public with courtesy, honesty, respect, and
professionalism. He worked long hours, took his job very seriously, and
tried his best to do what he could for the Hopis. His job was not easy. At
times it must have been tedious (like responding to the many job requests),
at times frustrating (like failing to get the Quonset huts), and at times
stressful (like dealing with the drunk employee). I, for one, would have
failed miserably at the job. But Dad’s ability to talk with anyone, face any
challenge, and focus on the details allowed him to enjoy his three years
and four months in Hopiland.
Dad’s life at Hopiland was not all work. Dad was able to go hunting
every year: in the October of 1948 he shot both a deer and an elk; in October of 1949 he hunted on the north rim of the Grand Canyon; in spring
1950 he participated in a spring elk and wildlife count for the State Game
and Fish Department, and in November 1950 he went on another elk hunt.
The family vacationed at the Grand Canyon, and visited the Lundeens several times; Glenn Lundeen transferred to the
Phoenix Indian School soon after Dad transferred to Hopiland. At least once Aunt Grace
visited the family in Keams Canyon, and
Mom returned to Garden City when her
mother died September 2, 1948. The biggest
non-work event in his life during this time
was my birth on July 7, 1949, at the Agency
hospital just across the street from our house.
When news reached the house, John ran unknown to anybody else across the street and
up the hospital steps. Interestingly, the head
doctor at the hospital was a Japanese-American internee at Gila River, as was the head
doctor at Belcourt. But he must have been
away on vacation, because a doctor from one
Aunt Grace - March 1949
of the other reservations attended the birth.
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Crawford family with the newest addition – July 1949
In November of 1950 the family got another puppy, son of Cappy, the
Cocker Spaniel. Dad also bought some registered rabbits and chickens to
raise. Mom planted a large garden of tulips and another of strawberries
soon after arriving. There were plenty of picnics in Keams Canyon and
other parts of the reservation. Since Keams Canyon is at an elevation over
6000 feet there was enough snow every winter to ski and sled in town.
One time when exploring one of the caves on the cliffs bordering Keams
Canyon, Dad got stuck. February 2nd, 1951, was the last day the family
spent at Keams Canyon.
Dad did write one personal letter from Keams Canyon which we still
have. Since it describes some of family life in his own words, I am including it here:
March 30, 1949
Dear Aunt Lulie
We are enclosing some pictures of the family and a Happy Birthday check for you. The days have slipped up on us so fast that I
know not where they go. We are sorry our wishes are late, but with
them comes our best love and hopes that you are well, happy & will
have so many more anniversaries.
A few days in March have been springlike - enough so that jonquils and violets have bloomed. But generally the month has been
typically March with snow flurries, rain, wind and much weather
bluffing. It has been a long winter and a hard winter. Ruth and children except Nancy have not been out of the Canyon since Thankswww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
92
giving. Nancy went to Holbrook one Saturday when we thought
Aunt Grace was coming. Roads have been bad and at best the
routes are crooked & pretty rough. We order food by the case &
have thus been well prepared. I am out to the neighboring towns
now & then & buy our fresh fruits & vegetables as needed.
We so enjoyed Aunt Grace’s visit. Roger & Lucille brought her
out from Holbrook & they stayed with us two nights. Then they started for Mexico. I believe they had to be back by Friday to go to
work. Aunt Grace livened up our long winter considerably and the
children especially enjoyed her. I'm so glad she was able to say
"Hello" to you on her return trip.
Nancy seems to be getting along pretty well in school. So much
better than I ever did! and really enjoys her work & loves her teacher. She missed a few days in January because of sickness but quickly
recovered. The scar over her right eye is pink now and has healed
very well. It will get lighter as time goes along. She is trying to learn
to play the piano, but it is hard to practice! We are going to enjoy
mesa climbing when it warms up some.
Sharon is quite different from Nancy. She has a tough time being
in the middle. Her disposition is battered around by her older sisters
actions & her younger brothers wishes. Although she has learned
faster than Nancy, she has some trouble with her s's & r's. She is a
good little helper & plays well with John when Nancy is in school.
She loves to play checkers & can normally win from all of us.
John Carr can almost hold his own! He is loved so by all but has
a tough time with his sisters when they play dolls, house, etc. They
let him play most times. He would much rather play with Cappy who has fleas & they raise huge welts - or the chickens or rabbits.
Another year & he'll probably shoot his first rabbit or coyote. He
sticks to me when I am home and wants to do everything I do. He
became quite a good skier in spite of poor snow conditions.
We have had many interesting Hopi dances this winter. They will
continue until August. The problems here are hard & many. You
probably read about Navajo-Hopi in the papers or hear about us
over the radio. Hope to get to Denver again this spring on business.
We wish you a very happy birthday.
Lots of love from us all.
Jim
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9. Poplar, Montana
Moving from Arizona was considerably harder in 1951 than it had
been seven years earlier. In 1944, Dad must have been excited to advance
to the level of Superintendent, but in 1951, he must have felt letdown to
leave the excitement of one of the most interesting Indian cultures to go to
an obscure reservation at the bleak northern edge of the country.
The kids did not want to move, and would only go if their pets went
too. That meant a very full 1951 Packard pulled out of Keams Canyon
with two adults, four kids, two dogs, two cats, and 10 rabbits along with
some suitcases and bedding. The chickens, most of the rabbits, cases of
canned goods, all of the house plants, and half a house full of other things
had to be sold or given away. Five days later, after spending one night in
Denver with the Rylands, the Packard pulled into Poplar in the middle of a
cold, howling wind and snow storm.
In Mom’s Round Robin letter, she describes the house as “… a rather
old house, rebuilt at some time. Three bed rooms on main floor, guest
bedroom and large playroom and bathroom on upper floor, and full size
basement where the children can play, and Jim has work shop besides a
fruit room and a connected coal room which we are using for our rabbits
temporarily.” The house had four dormers on the second floor, one in
each direction, and a glassed-in front porch. Mom counted 60 windows, all
with storm windows. Dad eventually built a rabbit hutch on the back of the
garage for summer use.
Dad wrote a much longer description of the house in a letter he sent to
his former staff at Keams Canyon:
Dear Friends —
April 8, 1951
“The Northern Lights have seen queer sights but the queerest they ever did
see was” the arrival and rehabilitation of the Crawford Family to Poplar,
Montana and the Fort Peck Indian Reservation!
We have been here sixty days and during every one I have thought about
you a dozen times and wished I had you close by to discuss the problems
and guide my decisions. I miss you all very much — and never again expect to have such pleasure working with such a very fine group of employees. I’m spoiled and the let down of the general cooperation and assistance
that you gave me in comparison to learning new employees, conditions
and problems, has been a continual drain on my strength.
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Front steps: Jamie, Sharon with Kitty Bell the cat, and John – July 1954
I’m not going to write this letter in any specified order, but put down
my thoughts as they go along. Mrs. Crawford said she wrote some about
our trip and first weeks, but I do not have a copy to prevent me from duplication — so please bear with my repetition.
More than a foot of snow on the level with high drifts behind every
obstacle greeted us as we drove in during a storm. Although tired as could
be we “inspected” the house before falling to sleep. Driving was good to
Douglas Wyoming — from there it was nip & tuck with icy roads, wind,
snow and considerable traffic on
U.S. No. 10. It was far from an
easy trip with 10 rabbits, 2 dogs, 2
cats and 4 children — but the
Packard didn’t complain and we
made it without a mishap. (The
Walsenberg, Colorado Texaco
dealer left my gas cap off — and
the backing up light wire dragged
the road for a few miles, as our
only car “troubles”). We now get
many laughs out of our northern
Dad and the kids by the railroad tracks
trip, incidents that were too seriwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
96
ous at the time!
Our house really is comfortable! But lots of work for the spring house
cleaning is coming up and I'm afraid it will catch me before the fishing
season, I’m trying to think up other excuses. There are 66 windows in the
house and 35 doors, 19 of which doors are with glass. (Just think of all
the glass washing — and oil it takes to quietly condition the doors). The
main floor has a cozy back porch, glassed in for a breakfast nook. The kitchen is considerably larger than our Hopi house but not well arranged.
From the kitchen, east is the nice dining room with French doors connecting with the living room — all with plush rugs (not suitable for our dining
because of the children — so we eat in the kitchen as per habit). The living room is large but comfortable & with the gas fire place is quite comfortable.
North from the kitchen is
John’s bedroom, then the
hall. From the hall are the
upstairs & downstairs
doors, our room, the girls’
room, and the bathroom, all
large and comfortable. The
full enclosed front porch is
10 x 40 & has French
doors, for half of it may be
used as a bed room.
The two best spots as
far as I am concerned are
the upstairs and the basement. A bathroom upstairs
(Ruth painted it pink!!!)
and a large play room full
The Crawford children in the front room – note
house width — plus anoththe deer and antelope heads
er bedroom — my den. I
hope I have time and strength to use it.
The basement has been the seat of activity so far. It is a one room main
affair 33 feet wide and 40 feet long (I can get a good 50 ft. 22 rifle range
by the diagonal method and am ordering a good back stop). The steps,
small gas furnace and ping pong table take up some room, also the two
wall stationary tubs — but the iron posts make grad drive ways for the
wagons, bicycles, tractors & roller skates. We bought a basketball ring
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and net which makes the
children’s fun complete.
(Dad so far has the longest
string of baskets from the
foul line — 17).
Two long bench tables
— one on the end & one on
the side are the hub of our
shop. The piano crate is the
locked gun & fishing equipment center — another
trunk, wooden, on end locks
for our tools and the lapidary machine is all set up
near the end table. (We’re
Dad and Nancy in front of home – Major C. B.
anxious to cut some
Lohmiller house in background
Montana moss agate —
everyone wears them here) an old meat block completes the shop. It is
well lighted & hums with activities — such as broken chain repairs, doll
bed repairs, tricycle adjustments etc. etc.
The rabbits are well at home in the old furnace coal room. They are so
easy to keep clean with a concrete floor & well ventilated with a window
and the former coal chute
entrance. We are making an
open shed for shelter in our
spacious yard for summer
time. The last room is a
large fruit room in which we
can also store all our boxes,
barrels & crates with order
& lots of space to spare for
Ruth’s flower potting activities on a bench at one end.
Our 300 odd quarts of fruit
we brought look pretty lonesome on the long numerous
shelves which probably hold
a thousand.
Unlike Keams Canyon, Dad cooking breakfast on family camping trip
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the house in Poplar was not the largest house in the neighborhood. The
house to the north, known as the Major C. B. Lohmiller house after the
Superintendent of the Indian Agency in the early 1900s, was a larger, 2 ½
story house with porches on three sides (Kingsley, the principal of the
public school, lived there in 1951). Dad paid rent to the government for
the home. In a March 9, 1954 letter Dad wrote to himself, he increased the
bi-weekly rent for the house to $43.
As always, Mom had a large vegetable garden which she raved about
in her letters. The garden was 60 ft by 40 ft on the north side of the house,
plus a cucumber bed and strawberry patch. She had lettuce, onions,
radishes, peas, spinach,
string beans, red beets, and
kohlrabi. By the middle of
August she picked 58
quarts of strawberries,
with plenty still growing.
One of the other Indian
Service employees retired
and sold Dad four bee
hives. Mom was against it,
but soon found she liked
raising bees. During their
three years in Poplar they
gathered 500 lbs. of honey
from the hives, and sold
six cases of honey to the
Mom and Dad with bee trays by kitchen windows
local stores.
– back steps at left edge, sandbox on right side
Keams Canyon was a small, isolated “company town”. Poplar was a
more diverse community, with both a major highway (U.S. 2) and railroad
(Great Northern Railroad) running east-west through the town. The population in 1950 was 1,169, and the town of Wolf Point, 25 miles west of
Poplar, was twice the size. The family attended a local Presbyterian
Church where Mom taught a bible study group at home, and Dad became
an elder. Nancy joined a Girl Scout troop with Mom helping out, while
Dad worked to start a Boy Scout troop. Dad joined the Lions Club, and attended a dinner meeting every other week. Mom joined a hooked rug
class, and started her first rug with pleas to her sisters to send her any discarded wool clothes. Together, Mom and Dad went square dancing every
other Friday at the gym. Nancy joined the middle school band, which
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The family skiing by the house and skating on the Poplar River
played at all bastketball games. Dad would take Sharon or John to watch,
scoring the game in his pocket notebook, while Mom stayed home to hook
her rug. Dad flooded the garden area during the winter to form an ice skating rink, with music from a record player in the bathroom window. The
family also went bowling, or ice skating on the Poplar River. And, as always, Dad got everybody on skiis whenever there was enough snow. We
spent many evenings listening to baseball games on our hugh console radio. Dad, Nancy, and I became Yankee fans, John was a Red Sox fan, and
Sharon a Dodgers fan.
Vacations were few and far between. Most were short trips: weekends
of swimming at a hot mineral springs 135 miles west; the Wolf Point
Stampede, and the band festival in Moose Jaw, Canada. At least the first
two years Dad went antelope hunting with the family, and Mom and
Dad each shot an antelope. In October of 1951, Dad had arranged to
use his annual leave to go elk hunting with three fellow Indian Service employees (Favre, Tom, and
Dan). However the week before
the hunt, Dad learned of a sudden
meeting that he had to attend in
Billings with his boss, Area Director Paul Fickinger, and several
people who were coming from
Washington D.C.. He had to cancel
Easter 1953
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Stoeckly Family reunion – August 1953
1st row: Caroline, Eugene, Susan, John, Sharon, James, Barbara
2nd row: Louise, Jean, Roberta, Ruth, Nancy, Erika, Margaret
3rd row: Fred, Robert, Eugene, James, Errol, Eddy, Enos
his hunt that year, and as far as I know, never had a chance to go elk hunting again.
Finally, on August 5, 1953, the family took a trip to Denver, to attend
the Stoeckly Family reunion at the Ryland home. No relatives visited the
family in Poplar, and this Denver reunion was the only time we saw any
relatives. Dad was in charge of the itinerary, and packed a lot into the trip.
The family drove through the Dakotas and saw Mt. Rushmore, the Passion
Play at Spearfish, and Dinosaur Park in Rapid City. In Denver, all the relatives went to the Elitch Gardens amusement park, and by happenstance
while stopped at an intersection, the family saw President Eisenhower and
his wife drive by in their motorcade. The trip back to Poplar provided a
rare chance to visit Hot Sulphur Springs, where we saw the first house in
town, built by James H. Crawford, and Steamboat Springs, where Dad
fished and took Nancy, Sharon, and John to climb Rabbit Ears while Mom
and I waited in the car for 3 hours. The family still had enough energy to
stop in Miles City, Montana on the way home to see Gene Autrey perform
at a rodeo.
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Drinking Soda Spring lemonade and cooking fish at Steamboat Springs – August
1953
Dad had one other involvement with Steamboat Springs during the
Poplar years. When his father died in 1945, Dad started renting the house
to Hazel Barnes. We have 18 letters that Hazel mailed to Dad from April
17, 1946 to December 5, 1952. Most of the letters contained $30 for rent,
complained about her husband being out of work, and complained about
all the medical problems Hazel had with pneumonia, flu, rheumatism, or
tonsils. Mom wrote her a rather harsh letter Oct 2, 1952, complaining that
no rent had been paid for two years, nor the taxes due by the end of October. Hazel‘s last letter two months later indicated they were moving to
Arizona because of her health, that
they would close the house up for
the winter, and that she would
write again when they could settle
up the over-due rent. In the spring
Dad contacted the Brown-Shearer
Agency to manage it. In spite of
the poor shape of the house with a
leaking roof, pealing wallpaper,
and sagging floors, Shearer rented
it to Clarence Mosher for
$25/month for a 3-year lease, with
Mosher fixing up the place by deducting money from the rent.
Dad’s office in Poplar
While at Poplar, Dad became a
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Dad at a conference, 3rd from bottom left
serious stamp collector, which he continued for the rest of his life. He kept
a small notebook detailing his stamp purchases totaling $60.52 for stamps
from such companies as Broadmoar Stamps, Belmont Stamps, and H. E.
Harris Co.
Mom’s letters mentioned Dad worked long hours and took frequent
trips, either to meet with people in all parts of the reservation, or to travel
to meetings on other reservations in Montana or at the area headquarters in
Billings. At least twice, the Indian Service Commissioner came to Poplar
and had lunch or dinner at the Crawford home: once Dillon Myer, and
once Glenn Emmons. One letter describes the results of one of Dad’s local
trips: “Jim burned his eyes 2 weeks ago from driving home from a neighboring town when bright sun was shining on snow. Has had a great deal of
trouble with them since. Had to stay home with hot packs on them for 3
days.”
Unlike his years at Keams Canyon, for which we have all of his work
correspondence, we only have a small sample of Dad’s work correspondence at Poplar and four notebooks he kept with notes that he took at meetings and during phone calls. Some days there were as many as 24 separate
entries.
The Fort Peck reservation was the 9th largest Indian reservation with an
area of 3,289 square miles, and an Indian population in 1949 of about
3100 Indians, making it slightly smaller than Hopiland in both size and Indian population, but having a much larger non-Indian population. Two distinct tribes lived on the reservation: Assiniboine and Sioux Indians. By the
1970s, about half of the land in the reservation was owned by non-Indians,
one-third owned by individual Indians, and one-sixth owned by the two
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tribes. The land was principally prairie and grasslands, ideal for wheat. It
also sat on the Williston Basin oil and gas field that stretches into Canada
and North Dakota, and by 1951 had its first working oil well, with the oil
companies paying $1,500,000 in 1953, up to $50 per acre, to lease for exploratory drilling.
In August of 1952, Dad attended a Superintendents’ Conference in
Billings at which Commissioner Myer gave a speech outlining his vision
of the Indian Service’s future. The Indian Service's two main jobs over the
years had been 1) providing community services which are normally
provided by a government, such as schools, hospitals, welfare, law and order, and roads; and 2) managing Indian trust property. But Myer thought
in the long term, the Indian Service should withdraw from reservations.
All schools should be public schools under the purview of the states, Indian Service hospitals should become community hospitals, roads should become county roads, etc. However before withdrawal could occur, the program services provided by the Indian Service needed to be transferred on a
case by case basis to other entities, and all of the land issues had to be addressed, and the Indian tribes in a reservation had to request the withdrawal. Land issue problems were immense, and growing worse because of the
backlog of cases in federal courts. Reservation lands could be tribal lands,
patented lands held by individual Indians or sold to non-Indians, or lands
held in trust by the Indian Service for individual Indians. All individual
lands were complicated by unresolved inheritance claims over the years.
Each reservation had its own unique mix of lands between these categories, and different solutions were needed for each reservation.
Dad did not have much involvement in the community services of the
reservation, which had been principal areas of his responsibility in Hopiland. In fact, there were no Federal schools on the Ft. Peck Reservation –
all Indians went to public schools. Occasionally he was involved with a
law-and-order issue, such as when he called the FBI to investigate a fire
that killed 5 Indian children (the FBI declined, stating it was out of their
jurisdiction); or when he was summoned to a Grand Jury in Helena where
he had to supply proof that several people were Indians. Most of Dad’s
work appears to have been with land issues: auctions for oil leases, sale of
Indian trust land from individual Indians to other Indians or non-Indians,
grazing or irrigation permits, etc. The oil boom not only brought money
to the Indians, but also corruption in the form of illegal land transfers
which often had to be sorted out first by Dad. One Indian couple seemed
especially aggressive in buying land from other Indians, often making
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them sign papers they never read, or lying on transfer applications (e.g.
saying they wanted more land for their hay operation, when in fact they
already had a non-Indian building a house on the land and ready to buy it).
At one point the husband punched one of Dad’s employees in the face in
the office, while Dad talked to the wife by their car. Nancy remembers
Mom was furious once when the wife slapped Dad in his office. Correspondence about this couple lasted for a couple years between Dad, his
boss Fickinger, and the Commissioner’s office in Washington, and included at least one court case brought by the District Attorney.
I do not think Dad enjoyed his work at Poplar. There was too much
contention over the land, often Indian versus Indian, with Dad in his letters
constantly referring to laws and regulations to back up his decisions. He
did not have any of the satisfaction he had at Hopiland where he was obviously helping people. But, almost like clockwork, his 3½ years in Poplar
ended when he was once again transferred.
Dad with Billings Area Superintendents in Billings, July 29, 1974
Top row: Carl L. Pearson, Northern Cheyenne; Arthur N. Arntson, Wind River;
James D. Crawford, Fort Peck; Lorenz C. Lippert, Crow; Guy Robertson, Blackfeet; Paul L. Fickinger, Billings Area Director
Kneeling: E. L. Decker, Flathead Irrigation Project; Forrest R. Stone, Flathead; J.
W. Wellington, Fort Belknap; F. M. Haverland, Billings Assistant Area Director.
105
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10. Billings, Montana – 1128 North 32nd Street
In June of 1954, Dad heard that he would be transferred to be Assistant
Area Director at the office in Billings. Mom’s July 30th letter indicated she
was pleased, but also that the family had really become rooted in Poplar:
“It was quite a surprise to us that we should already get to live in
a big town. We made a trip to Billings a month ago to look for a
place to live. Without too much difficulty we found a place we all
fell in love with at first sight. But I’ll write you all about our house
in my next letter.
We had the first inkling we were going to have to move the
middle of June. So for the last 6 weeks our every thought and action
has been directed toward packing and tearing up our roots that we
made the past 3½ years spent in Poplar.
Jim was to have been President of the Lions Club this fall, he
was Clerk of the Session of the Presbyterian Church, and Cub Scout
committee member; I was teacher of the Genesis Guild of the
Church, organist for church every other Sunday, member of Indian
Women’s Home Dem. Club, and leader of Nancy’s Girl Scout troop;
Nancy was in High School Band, Girl Scouts, 4H Club, and Jr.
Westminister Fellowship; Sharon started cornet lessons through the
school music program, and got her Brownie Wings in May. I also
gave piano lessons to 5 girls and Nancy and I started making some
things at a ceramic shop that opened here recently. We also kept
bees, rabbits and have a fine large garden. Now if you don’t think it
is a job to break away from all that and start over, just try it.”
The house everybody fell in love with, was probably not as big as the
reservation houses, and did not have as large a yard (lot size was 14,000 sq
feet), but it had lots of character, inside and out. It was a split-level wood
house built in 1940 with a brick façade on the front and wooden shingles
on the roof. There were six levels to the house. The front door entered the
third level consisting of a small mudroom with a coat closet; a living room
with a brick fireplace; a modest dining room large enough for table, six
chairs, side cabinet, and a small roll top desk where Mom kept all of the
family financial records; and a kitchen just large enough for a breakfast
table. A small stairway with around 6 steps went up to a short hallway on
the fourth level. At either end of the hallway was a bedroom (Nancy’s at
the front of the house, John’s and mine at the back), while a bathroom
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with a tub and dressing table fit
between the bedrooms. The hallway also had a linen closet and
the stairs to level five. This stairway was around 10 steps, probably to allow for higher ceilings
on the main floor. The top of a
laundry chute to the basement
opened on the right wall at about
the third step up. The big hamper
at the bottom was Mom’s secret
hiding place for Christmas
presents. At the top was the master bedroom for Mom and Dad,
John in back yard about 1954
with a long walk-in closet and a
small side area with a small dormer window. Through the side area was
another small stairs with maybe four steps leading to the attic: a small,
crudely finished bedroom for Sharon.
The kitchen had another stairway down a half dozen steps to a two-car
(end-to-end) garage. There was a garage door at either end of the garage,
so that with both doors open one could drive from the front driveway
through the house to the back driveway. The first year we lived there,
Mom and Dad laid protective tiles on top of the concrete to form a shuffleboard game at one end and hopscotch at the other end. They then protected
the tiles from oil leaks with cardboard sheets under both cars. Along the
entire south side of the garage were floor-to-ceiling cupboards where
Mom kept her canned jars of fruits and vegetables. A side door provided
the only other entrance to the
house. One more stairway of another half dozen steps went to the
basement consisting of a family
room, a utility/store room, and a
small bathroom with a shower.
The family room had a fireplace
with bookshelves on either side
built by Dad of bricks and boards.
It also had a bar off to the side
with a small sink and cupboards
Looking from back yard to front – 1960s where we stored our board games.
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The outside of the house was a delight for everyone. The house faced
east, about 20 feet back from the front sidewalk, and had enough bushes
and trees to make it attractive (arbor vitae, Colorado blue spruce, Engelmann spruce, pine, sumac, and weeping birch along with four diseased
American elm trees lining the street and dripping sap on cars parked beneath them). The south side of the house by the garage was narrow, maybe
10 feet between houses, and had little more room than for a few flowers
and a walkway. The back driveway ran 40 or 50 feet to an alley, where
there was another one-car garage, which we called the Alley House. Along
the side of the driveway were two apple trees flanking several clothes
lines, and a nice sunny spot at the end of the driveway for a modest vegetable garden. The back yard was a gem. Half of it was flat grass big enough
for croquet, whiffle ball, archery,
and various ball games. The other
half sloped up just enough for
young kids to sled or roll in the
grass while still being useable as
the raised outfield for ball games.
A large maple tree provided shade
for a picnic table and hammock.
Mom’s flower gardens bordered
everywhere. A white picket fence
kept the yard safe for kids and
dogs from any cars on the driveway or alley. The entire northern
side of the property had huge lilac
Skiing in the back yard about 1956
bushes separating us physically
and visually from the neighbor, and a stone retaining wall topped with
rose bushes with a pretty trellised gate and several steps led from the front
yard down to the back yard.
Mom ran the house and had complete control of it, but Dad managed
to have some of his things scattered throughout. The living room had a
bobcat skin on the wall by the front door. On his side of the bedroom, Dad
had a large desk made of bricks and boards filling the entire wall, and in
the dormer Dad had a small desk for his stamp collection. The big deer
head was also on the wall of the side area, with a bear rug on the floor.
Dad’s kachina doll collection was housed in the Poston cabinet in the
basement safely out of reach from the sun and heat, as was the antelope
head over the basement fireplace. Dad also claimed the basement bathwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
109
room: since he got up by 5 every day, he did not want to use the main
bathroom and potentially wake somebody up. Finally, Dad owned the Alley House. There he had a work bench with his vast array of tools and all
of the normal clutter associated with garages: lawn mowers, rakes,
shovels, broken furniture, unused pieces of lumber, garden fences, etc.
Here also he kept the trunks with the letters and photos from Steamboat
Springs, safely hidden under all of the clutter. The Alley House bulged
from all the stuff and was never used as a car garage.
Mom also controlled the outdoors with her flower gardens everywhere.
But Dad had his hand in several places: he put a swing set up on the back
driveway, he put up a basketball hoop covering the boys bedroom window
overlooking the back driveway; he installed a rope swing on the tall maple
tree in the back yard; he repaired shingles and picket fence boards, he cut
down the dying white birch tree in the front yard and replaced it with a
young weeping birch sapling, he painted the house and the red roof, and
he helped Mom with any major gardening projects, such as when he installed a small fish pond in the large garden by the Alley House.
Alley House with fish pond in front – clothes line pole to far left - 1964
Starting with Poston, the family lived in small towns under 1000
people with Dad’s office within a couple hundred yards of home. Billings,
however, was a large town of over 50,000, and Dad now had a much
longer walk to work. Initially, the Area Office of the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Billings was in a three story pink office building at 804 N. 29 th, six
blocks from home. Dad would usually walk a different zig-zag route each
day walking along both streets and alleys. He would often find things on
the sidewalks or alleys, and bring them home – little things that someone
had dropped, lost, or discarded, but might still be useful. Mom would get
mad at him at times for bringing such stuff home. Dad would be gone to
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work before I woke up, but he would always come home for lunch, which
was the largest meal of the day until Sharon went to Lincoln Jr. High
where lunch was served in a cafeteria, and Mom switched the large meal
to the evening. Curiously, even though his work was just three blocks further from our home than was McKinley Grade School, I never remember
walking with him at lunch. I think I would always get home first, and
leave before he left. I do remember he would come in the front door, hang
up his hat and coat, come into the kitchen, kiss Mom who would be standing by the stove, and sit down for lunch. After lunch, it was always a treat
to sit on his knee and have him bounce me up and down like a bucking
bronco.
A few times, Mom and I would have to go pick Dad up from his office
at the end of the day. I don’t remember ever actually going in his office,
which was on the 3rd floor, because I just wanted to play with the drinking
fountain in the hall that gave cold water. After a few years in the pink office building, a new five-story Federal building was built downtown at 316
N. 26th St. to house most of the Federal offices in Billings. The Indian Service, whose name by now was changed to the Bureau of Indian Affairs
(BIA) was on the top floor. Dad would still walk to work, and always
prided himself in walking up the stairs rather than take the elevator – he
usually mentioned this whenever Mom complained about his weight. He
was around 185 lbs at his heaviest, which for having thin arms and legs on
a 6’ 1½” frame, made him a little fat around the stomach. One of his favorite phrases later in life whenever he lost some weight was “I’m just a
shadow of my former self”. Several times I went in his new office to
pick him up. I remember a large
open area with lots of secretary
desks, with individual rooms
around the sides, including one for
Dad. He was always glad to introduce me to his secretary if I came
early enough while she was still
there.
Growing up I knew very little
about what Dad actually did in his
work in Billings. I even had a hard
time filling in his “occupation” on
Jamie, Dad, John about 1955
school registration forms each
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year. I always had Mom write out what I
should put down, and it was something
like: “Assistant Area Director” or “Administrative Officer, Community Services, Bureau of Indian Affairs”. His final title when he retired was “Community Development Officer, Bureau of
Indian Affairs”. In high school I learned
Dad was involved with the Indian
schools on the reservations because my
10th grade biology teacher mentioned to
me that he was very grateful to Dad for
hiring him for his first job as a teacher at
a school on one of the reservations.
Dad had to travel often for his job: to
Washington D.C.; to perhaps Denver or
Dad in 1955
Pheonix or Portland to meet with other
regional personnel; to Helena to meet with state education officials; to
Brigham City, Utah to attend workshops at the Intermountain School; and
to the eight reservations in Montana and Wyoming that were included in
the Billings Area Office (Crow, Northern Cheyenne, Flathead, Blackfoot,
Fort Peck, Fort Belknap, Rocky Boy, and Wind River, with a total population of about 25,000 people and a land area of 9 million acres). He was
probably out-of-town one quarter of the time, including one six-week trip
he took every spring to visit all of the reservations. His 1967 pocket notebook lists seven trips he took that year: 2-day trip in January to Phoenix
with stopover in Denver; 4-day trip in February to Kansas City; 1-week
trip in April to NYC, ending with two days in Pittsburg for a national Boy
Scout meeting; 2-week trip in August to Idaho for the International Boy
Scout Jamboree; 1-week trip in September to NYC, ending with an excursion to Durham to visit John; 1-week trip in October to Oklahoma; and finally another 1-week trip in November to Oklahoma. For many of his trips
Dad would check out a car from the government motor pool. It was not
unusual for him to drive 250 miles in the morning in pre-interstate highway days to a meeting at one of the reservations, than 250 miles back
again the same day. If time permitted during his trips around Montana, he
would pull off in a likely spot and hunt for moss agates and arrowheads.
He once said that sometimes the parked government car in the middle of
nowhere would cause neighbors to come over to investigate. He also got
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very good practice in locating antelope and deer in the far distance as he
drove.
We have his chronological files for the years of 1955 and 1956, over
1000 pages of correspondence, trip reports, and monthly summaries of his
accomplishments. It is clear that Dad concentrated on the education part of
community services – none of Dad’s correspondence dealt with law and
order, roads, health, welfare, or land issues except when they affected
schools or students. The Indians on the reservations either attended public
schools, one of seven Indian schools, or out-of-state boarding schools (at
least a couple dozen went to the Haskill School in Kansas). For the boarding schools, Dad monitored the applications for new students, or the
grades of current students. One quarter he wrote to 16 students at the
Haskill School either congratulating them on their good grades, or encouraging them to focus more on studying so they would reach their potential.
For the seven Indian schools, Dad acted similar to a superintendent: overseeing budgets, the hiring of teachers, the maintenance of the buildings,
the transportation of the students, etc. (but not the actual curriculum). For
the public schools, Dad served more of an oversight role. The Indian Service reimbursed the public schools if the schools met certain criteria. Dad
toured all of the public schools and met with the individual principals,
school boards, and state education officials to insure that the money was
being used appropriately and that the right decisions were being made in
terms of new school buildings, repairs, class size, test scores, school
lunches, adequate roads and transportation, etc.
One of the most fun things Dad did at work was to give talks for various community groups such as church groups or women societies or
school classrooms. He would show some of his kachina dolls and Indian
artifacts and talk about the different customs of some of the tribes. Some
of his talks would include one or two short movies on the Indians. He
would first bring home the movie equipment to insure that it was running
properly, and we would watch the movies in our basement. Our favorite,
which we saw several times, was “Miracle on the Mesa”, a film by Alan
Shilin Productions about the Hopi Indians that included a few seconds of
Dad talking to some Hopis.
Outside work, Dad was active in a number of organizations: the First
Presbyterian Church, Lions Club, Stamp Club, Billings Archaeological
Society, Rifle Club, Boy Scouts, and Girl Scouts. Dad was an elder of the
church, and the whole family was active, attending Sunday morning serwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
113
vices and Sunday School every week. Dad would gladly have spent the
whole day talking to people after the services, and I remember many times
telling him we were all ready to leave, only to have him reply that he had
one more person to talk to. In the early 1960s Dad was appointed to the
Presbyterian Church’s national committee on race and relations and attended several meetings back east.
As in Poplar, Dad joined the
Billings Lion Club and was an active member all of his years in
Billings. He attended luncheon
meetings every other week, and
worked at their fund-raising drives:
Christmas tree sales and the
County Fair pizza or bingo booth.
By the time I was in high school,
Dad was one of the organizers of
the bingo booth, and John and I
were able to work as the night
watchman / janitor for several
years. For his efforts, Dad was given the Lions Club W. J. Jameson
By the back garage door about 1956
Distinquished Service Award three
times (1972, 1973, and 1974). In 1974 he was installed in the Billings
Lions Club Hall of Fame. He also won trophies at the Lions Club interservice olympiad for cribbage in 1964 and darts in 1970.
Dad joined the stamp club in 1954 and continued to collect stamps all
his life. Every several weeks he would receive single and blocks of four
US commemorative stamps on envelopes postmarked the first day of issue. He also took plain self-addressed stamped postcards with him
whenever he traveled, and mailed them from every post office he could
find in Montana. After he died, Mom donated the post card collection to
the Montana Historical Society. I took most of the rest of his stamp collection to the E. E. Harris Co. in Boston and sold it there for Mom, but kept
his Airmail and Special Delivery collection, which I still have.
Dad was a member of the Archaeological Society by at least 1963.
Billings resident, Dr. D. J. Nelson, was a guest in the house one day, and
amazed us with stories about his role in the procurement of some Dead
Sea Scrolls.
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Dad joined the Yellowstone Valley Rifle Club, and Sharon, John, and
I spent many Friday evenings of target practice at the range in the basement of the science building at the Eastern Montana College of Education.
I never remember seeing Dad shoot at the range; instead, he was the official scorer who sat behind the counter adding up the points on each target
with the aid of a special magnifying glass. When I was 12 Dad accompanied me to a rifle-safety program that prepared me for obtaining a hunters
license.
Dad was unable to hunt as much as he did on the reservations. He took
me on three hunts: two for antelope northeast of Ingomar (1962 and 1966),
and one for both antelope and deer in the southeast corner of the state near
Ekalaka (1964). All of them involved waking up before dawn to begin
driving; or at least Dad woke up, and I managed to get in the station wagon before falling back asleep. On one of them we saw a comet visible near
the sun right before the sun rose over the eastern prairie. All three hunts
were successful, with the antelope hunts being the more exciting and
showcasing Dad’s skill more. On one we started out driving along some
dirt roads through the prairie, spotting a white-tail deer, shooting a cottontail rabbit, and finally seeing a herd of antelope several miles off in the
distance. Based on the wind direction and the time of day, Dad figured
Crawford family on an outing with the green Packard about 1956
115
where the antelope would end up in an hour, and we drove out-of-sight until we could hike up a ridge where Dad expected to get a shot. Sure
enough, as we crawled to the top, we were just a few hundred yards from
the herd. Dad waited patiently until I took my shot before he fired, and we
both got an antelope. Back at the car, Dad knew just how to go off the
road, over hills and along ravines until we got to the fallen antelope, only
getting stuck in mud once. I’m sure Dad had so many experiences getting
stuck in snow and mud (especially in Hopiland) that it was no big deal to
him, but I remember thinking it would take us days to walk out of that
lonely country. Dad gutted and skinned them right there by the car, before
sawing them into quarters and bagging the pieces in cheesecloth.
Nancy also went hunting with Dad, once for antelope around 1956 and
once deer hunting in 1958. That year they went when Nancy returned
home at Christmas from college. Dad saw a deer resting in the snow a
good distance away and shot it. When they reached the deer he discovered
that the bullet had gone through the deer and killed a fawn laying behind
it. That really bothered Dad and he regretted his shot. One other time
Nancy and Dad were hiking near Yellowstone Park when they came
across many elk horns. Dad said they could not take any because it was in
the National Forest and part of the landscape.
Whereas I only got to observe Dad’s
hunting skills these three times, I saw his
camping and fishing skills many times.
While I was too young for Boy Scouts, the
family took several vacations up to the
mountains around Red Lodge, to Lily Pad,
Gertrude, and Timberline lakes. On one such
day trip, Dad was still fishing when the rest
of us were ready to leave, and told us to go
on ahead and he would meet us back at the
car. We waited in the car for what seemed
like hours to me, playing 20-questions, before Dad finally emerged from the forest.
One August we went for two nights on
the trail to Sundance Pass in the Beartooth
Mountains west of Red Lodge with the family of Nancy’s roommate at Macalester College. Dad rented a packhorse to carry all of
Mom and Dad about 1963
116
John and Nancy with Christmas decorations in 1963
the camp supplies – the only time I ever saw him with a horse. I was
amazed that he seemed to know just how to pack the horse, and feed and
care for it; but now I know that he did that often as a boy. The trip was a
great success, despite the fact that we woke up unexpectedly the second
morning to several inches of snow.
In the fall of 1960 we took a family fishing trip to the lakes on Hellroaring Plateau. We camped in a campground just off the main highway
right before the famous Beartooth Highway switchbacks. I remember the
date because while we were cooking and eating dinner, we listened on a
tiny transistor radio to Dave McNally pitch for Billings in the American
Legion World Series (he lost that game, but went on to have a very successful major league career with the Baltimore Orioles). The next morning
we hiked up to the top of the Hellroaring Plateau where there were several
lakes full of fish that only Dad seemed to be able to catch.
It was in Boy Scouts that I really got to see Dad as an outdoorsman.
He was involved with Boy Scouts all of his life, both before and after John
and I were a part of Troop 6. Dad was never the troop leader – that was always Ben Laws – but he was an assistant leader, the resident expert on all
things involving the outdoors. In 1958 Dad received the Silver Beaver
Award for Distinguished Service to Boyhood from the Yellowstone Valwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
117
ley Council, and from 1965 – 1967 he served as Boy Scout Council President. At times he was a representative to the regional and national organizations, and he held workshops or was Director of Conservation at the
National Jamboree at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, in 1964 and the International and National Jamborees at Farragut State Park, Idaho, in 1967,
1969, and 1973. He also was a board member for the Girl Scouts.
Thursday nights were always Boy Scout night for us. Dad would drive
a full car with all the Scouts in our neighborhood. He would stay in the
background during the meetings, and spend his time talking with the other
adults. The big Scouting event of the year was always a one-week summer
camp in August. Dad would always use his vacation time that week, and
the week between Christmas and New Years. Each year the camp was in a
different location: Pebble Creek just inside Yellowstone Park, thrice at
Flaming Arrow Scout Ranch near Bozeman, Boulder River south of Big
Timber, and twice at Clark’s Fork near Cooke City.
Dad lived comfortably with a cot in our large family tent. He would
give nature walks around the camp area, and at least twice during the week
take any interested Scouts hiking and fishing. In my first summer camp,
on the Boulder River, I tented with David Hulit. One day everybody hiked
up a dirt road to an old abandoned mine. Three of the boys, including David, Andy Fish, and Doug Ensign, wanted to fish, and were allowed to
bushwhack down to the river to fish back down to camp. After spending
some time looking at the old wooden buildings outside the mine, everybody headed back to camp. The fishing crew were not back yet, and by
dinner time the adults were concerned, and some, including Dad, went
searching for them. I finally went to sleep alone in the tent, and was
awakened around midnight when Dad helped David into the tent and made
sure he was warm in his sleeping bag. Dad had hiked all the way back to
the mine, getting there after dark, and found David huddled by himself in
one of the buildings. The fishing group had found it very hard to bushwhack, and had trouble even reaching the river. David had turned around
and headed back to the road and made it to the mine, where he stayed because he didn’t think he could hike back before it got pitch dark. The other
two continued on, but once it got dark they made a fire, and came back the
next day before breakfast. Needless to say, I thought Dad was a hero for
rescuing David.
The most memorable times for me were the fishing trips down the
Clark’s Fork river. These were not the typical hike-on-a-trail-until-youwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
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get-to-a-lake-and-then-fish hikes. Dad had carefully looked at the USGS
map of the area, and determined that the Clark’s Fork made a big, onemile loop away from the highway just before it entered Wyoming two
miles from our campsite. This loop was isolated with no trails, and would
have no Wyoming fishermen in it. But there was a power line running a
half mile parallel to the river that would provide us a quick way to go a
couple miles downstream, and then we could fish our way back upstream.
Dad would have been excellent at orienteering. He knew right where we
should head off from the power line to reach the river at the bend he
wanted, and after a lot of bushwhacking through thick brush, around
marshes (once we saw a moose on the other side of a marsh) and some
steep cliffs, we hit the river perfectly. I went fishing with Dad at
least four times to this stretch of the
river, twice from the campground
and twice from a dirt road on the
Wyoming border, and we always hit
the river near the same place. Dad
would get the fishing poles ready for
us, tie on new flies when our lines
snagged and broke, and generally
spend half his time tending to our
needs. But invariably, he caught
more fish than we could. Once,
Dad bird watching about 1966
when it was just Dad, John, and myself, John and I caught 25 and 20 fish, while Dad caught 55 fish. At times,
he gave us poles with two flies, and I could brag that I several times
caught two at once. Dad put three flies on his line, and caught three at
once. We fished the exact same holes, and Dad even let us go before him,
so we always had first crack at the hungry fish. But it never mattered; Dad
always caught two to three times as many fish as anybody else. By late afternoon, we would be tired and hungry with a heavy creel full of mainly
10-14 inch brook and cutthroat trout (the limit was always 10 lbs and 1
fish). By now we had fished upstream around the big bend, and less than a
mile from camp, but there were so many mini-canyons and downed timber
that it was impossible to continue along the river to camp, and we had to
once again bushwhack out to the power line.1
1
25 years later I took my two oldest children back to the river and found it much the
same, with the fish still biting enough for each of us to catch some.
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Canoe Base in summer of 1963 – Top row Ben Laws on left and Dad and John on
right – Middle row Ben Laws Jr and Dave Laws on either end – Bottom row I'm on
the left
One other memorable time with Dad during Boy Scouts was around
the summer of 1963 when we went on a 10-day canoe trip at the Boy
Scout Charles L. Sommers Canoe Base in northern Minnesota. The trip
was really for John and others his age, with Dad and Ben Lawa as the two
adult leaders and car drivers. Ben's youngest son David (one year older
than me) and I were allowed to tag along. The trip was phyically challenging for the two of us, and we probably slowed everybody down because
we could not paddle fast and could not take our turns carrying the canoes.
Dad also had problems: slipping on wet rocks while portaging a canoe,
Dad’s back gave out on him and he could no longer carry his share. There
was talk about taking Dad back to the base, but he insisted he would be
okay as long as he no longer had to carry a canoe. I don’t remember any
other bouts he had of his back giving out on him, but I remember Mom
constantly chided him for slouching and poor posture.
Dad had a number of other health problems in Billings. His eyesight
was poor and his glasses so thick and heavy that they slid down his nose
and gave him headaches. He was thrilled when they came out with a new
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plastic that lightened his glasses considerably. Sometime in the 1950s Dad
slipped on some ice and broke the little finger on his left hand. The bone
was never completely reset, and for the rest of his life the finger could not
bend or straighten completely and stuck out at a funny angle. Finally, Dad
was plagued with asthma. Some years were worse than others, but he always had medicine on hand to use with his inhaler. I can well remember
him sitting on his bed, wheezing for breath as he used the inhaler. His
1967 notebook lists his medication as Prednislone, Quadrinol, Ilosone, and
Inocin, and his blood type as O positive.
One Christmas morning Dad was sick and could not get out of bed.
The door to the basement, where we had the Christmas tree, had a lock on
it, and I stood there by that door for what seemed like hours, waiting and
checking to see if it was still locked. Mom offered to go in to get a present
for each of us, but we declined (I don’t remember having any say in the
matter – I would have said yes). Finally Dad was able to rise and move
into a big rocking chair in the family room, surrounded by blankets and
armed with his trusty day-of-the-year notebook. Opening presents was a
very civilized procedure in our house. One by one, each of us four kids retrieved a present from the tree and passed it to whomever it was for. That
person then opened it in front of everyone and Dad duly recorded the gift
in his notebook. The whole process took several hours. Dad then would
read a new book, or work on a jigsaw puzzle, until Christmas dinner. After
dinner the whole family would play card games or board games, often
Dad and Mom by living room fireplace about 1965
121
with our neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey and Mary Clapper. Dad was always an eager participant, willing to play anything but chess, and was a
good gamesman. His favorite card game was cribbage. Later in life, he
would often ask me to play cribbage while we were waiting for Sunday
dinner, and over the years he won a lot more times than I did. After we
were all in college, Dad and Mom played two games of cribbage every
night.
Dad spent the week after Christmas writing his Christmas cards. He
would set up a card table near a light with a stack of cards and his address
book, put on his green visor, and write a note on each card, sometimes
several pages long. The cards were sent to relatives, old friends, and
former colleagues from the reservations. We still have his Christmas card
address book from the 1950s, which has over 300 names in it.
Dad did not have enough vacation time to take a full week vacation in
addition to the Boy Scout summer camp and the Christmas holiday. I only
remember two trips the family took together other than the weekend
camping trips to Red Lodge. The first trip was during our first full summer
in Billings in 1955 when we took a 6-day camping trip to Yellowstone
Park. We got to see all the geysers and basins and water falls, and of
course many bear. In those days, tourists were allowed to feed the bears,
so on any road, around any curve, we might see a line of cars parked along
the side of the road with a group of bears besides them begging for food.
The second family vacation was to see the Seattle World’s Fair in
1962. Sharon was a senior in high school then, and her Girl Scout troop
joined other troops to charter a bus. There were a few empty seats, so Dad,
John and I were able to tag along. The bus ride was long, and included
several hours somewhere fixing a mechanical problem. At Seattle, the Girl
Scouts stayed one place, while Dad, John and I rented a room in a local
family’s house. The three of us only occasionally met up with Mom and
the girls.
During the summer, we often went on family picnics to the top of the
rims, to the Indian Caves (once with Mom’s Swiss cousin Lotti we visited
for a week), but most often agate hunting on the prairie northwest of
Hardin. Dad would find a dirt road off of the highway, and after a mile or
so on the dirt road would just turn off of it onto the prairie. We would fan
out from the car filling up coffee cans with rocks. Often we would see
horned toads or rattlesnakes. Once when we returned to the car Sharon
saw something interesting behind the car, and started running toward it unwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
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Crawford family about 1966
til somebody grabbed her because it was a coiled rattlesnake. Dad got a
stick and pinned it down and later skinned it – we still have the skin. Sharon found a grapefruit sized agate that she sold, but most of the time Dad
would cut promising agates into slices which he then polished in a tumbler
in the basement and made into jewelry.
Dad’s weekly routine while he was not traveling was to wake up early
before 5, walk to work, come home for lunch, come home shortly before
dinner, fall asleep watching the TV news, eat dinner, go to a meeting
(Thurs. night was always Boy Scouts and Friday night Rifle Club), then go
to bed early (by 9 or 10). On Sundays, the morning was spent at church,
and the afternoon was spent eating a big long meal and playing card
games. Dad loved these dinners. He often got to pull out his carving knife
and sharpen it before tackling a roast or turkey. During the meal he got to
talk and tell stories about Steamboat. Saturdays, especially during the
warmer months, were often spent “puttering” in the Alley House. He was
a good fix-it man, and had a pretty complete set of tools. Occasionally,
Dad would grab a glove and play catch with me in the back yard, or shoot
free throws. He mentioned playing basketball in high school, but I don’t
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think he ever played baseball. But he was certainly a baseball fan. He took
John several times to a batting cage, and even pitched to John at a local
park while Mom and I shagged balls. He loved going to Billings Mustangs
games (the minor league C team), where we would sit along the third base
line, three or four rows back, and occasionally snag foul balls. Dad would
faithfully keep score of the games in his program book. One summer he
wrote a couple dozen family letters, and in every one he mentions both the
Mustangs game and whether John played a little league game – he was
clearly an ardent baseball fan. When we got a TV around 1957 he watched
the baseball, football and basketball games on Sunday afternoon (the only
time games were shown in Billings), and Friday night boxing. In those
early days of integrated sports teams, he would make a point of praising
good plays by black athletes. The only other shows I remember him
watching were Red Skeleton on Tuesday evening and Lawrence Welk on
Saturday evening. He was in seventh heaven watching Lawrence Welk. It
clearly took him back to his childhood days when he played the banjo and
went to dances. Unfortunately, it usually occurred during supper time, and
Mom would make Dad turn off the TV in the middle of the program to
come to the table.
Dad’s main connection with Steamboat continued to be his father’s
house. Clarence Mosher wrote a letter in May of 1955 asking if he could
buy the house. There’s no indication of what Dad’s response was, only
that letters from Mr. Shearer, the realtor, in the summer of 1956 indicated
a new tenant by the name of Flaharty had signed a 3-year lease at
$25/month for the first year and
$40/month for the last two
years. In spring of 1958 Nancy
and Sharon went with Dad to
clean out the barn. Everything
Dad wanted to keep was either
stored in the barn or loaded into
the car, including old cranktype phones and old trunks of
letters.
Nancy
remembers
browsing through the trunks of
letters and reading Aunt
Grace’s June 5, 1939 letter
about “Peach”. She showed it
to Sharon, but they never asked
Mom and Dad in back yard about 1966
124
Dad about it.
In another letter Mom indicated that she wanted to sell the
house, and on April 6, 1959 she
directed Shearer to sell the house
for $6000 if he could. She also
mentioned that Dad had asthmatic
bronchitis all winter and wasn’t a
bit well, and that the cold air was
very hard on him. A Feb 2, 1960
letter indicated the house was
empty but wouldn’t sell, so Mom
wanted to reduce the price. In
June of 1960 Dad visited Steam- Crawford family in living foom about 1966
boat again and had Dismuke survey the land into two properties, the barn on the north lot and the house on
the south lot. By December, there were new renters (Charles Grammer) at
$30 per month. Finally on July 10, 1961, Michael L. Malone offered
$2500 for the house, a purchase and sale agreement was signed Jan 1,
1962, and the deed was signed October 21, 1963.2
Dad still owned the barn, but Mom was relentless in her bickering
about the wasted money being spent on the taxes for the barn, even though
in 1968 the taxes were only $36.81. She was always careful about every
penny the family spent. It’s hard to fault her when they successfully paid
for college educations at top private schools for four children and had
enough to also build their dream home. However I wonder if Mom also
had a grudge toward Steamboat Springs, and to her the property was a
symbol of Dad’s life before her.
Dad occasionally visited Steamboat when he had a business trip to
Denver, and once in June of 1957 when he was at the Intermountain
School for three weeks, he drove to Steamboat on the weekend and stayed
with Elmer King for one night. Easter weekend of 1967 he drove down to
clean out the barn one last time. He wanted me to join him, but I declined,
a decision I have regretted many times since then. In March of 1970, Dr.
2
Three years later, the house was torn down and replaced by a new
house numbered 1080 Crawford Ave. In 2008, the land is valued at
$330,000.
125
Donald E. Eakins, a dentist, and his wife June made an offer of $3000 for
the lot, and by May the transaction was finished. This severed his ties with
Steamboat, and was the last time Dad corresponded with anybody in
Steamboat.
Education was always very important to Dad. He saw the effects firsthand of how the Indians suffered from lack of education, and his work in
Billings directly involved trying to provide better education for more Indian youths. He always joked about him being the least educated one in the
family, since all of us including Mom obtained graduate degrees (Nancy
graduated from Macalester College and the U. of Hawaii; Sharon graduated from Stanford U. and Montana State U.; John graduated from Duke
U. and the U. of Washington Law School; and I graduated from Caltech
and Harvard U.). When I graduated from high school, he took me shopping downtown – a rare occurrence since Mom usually did all the shopping – and bought me an electric typewriter to use in college. When Mom
discovered that it was electric, she lit in to him about wasting money when
a manual typewriter would have been just as good, but for once he did not
back down. When I graduated from college, he gave me a good briefcase,
with a fine pen and pencil set. These were items that he used daily, and
once again they were tied to his notion of what would help me during my
next step of education
Dad cleaning out Alley House in 1967
126
There might have been another chapter in this book entitled “Washington D.C.”. Some time around 1965 Dad was offered a promotion to work
in the Commissioner’s Office in Washington. He turned it down, stating
that he did not want John and I to have to change high schools. The pay
raise must have been tempting (Dad’s salary on July 23, 1966 was
$14,338), especially to Mom, but they were very much a part of the community in Billings and it would have been hard to start over, especially in
a place where it would be much harder to garden, fish, or hunt.
House in 2006 – note new addition to right, modified roof line, the bushes
overwhelming the lawn, and the height of the trees – the blue spruce to right of
house is now over three times the height of the house.
127
128
11. Billings, Montana – 3801 Warbonnet Trail
When I entered college in 1967, Dad’s life entered a new phase, since
he and Mom were once again alone without kids. All throughout my senior year of high school, they talked about moving to a smaller house where
they would not need to shovel the sidewalks, mow the grass, and rake the
leaves. They found an empty lot on the edge of town under the shadow of
the rimrocks that would provide them a view of the valley and mountains
while having an expansive space for gardens. They bought the land and
hired an architect to build them their smaller dream house. Partly because
he traveled so much, Dad was not as involved as Mom was in the design.
He had three main requirements that I know of: a library/den for himself
with a built-in bookshelf; a large work area in the garage for his tools and
building projects; and space for a 50 ft target practice range. Mom had her
separate requirements: three bedrooms, each large enough for two beds; a
kitchen with plenty of cupboards, counter space, and an adjoining pantry;
a greenhouse; and a Swiss-looking balcony.
Construction on the new house started in the spring of 1967. Either
construction was delayed, or they found a buyer quicker than they anticipated, because by Christmas they found themselves without a house to live
in. They rented an apartment a block north of Grand Ave near 17 th St. and
found places to store all of their furniture and belongings. By June the
house was finished and they were all moved in. Of course “finished” is a
relative term, as there were lots of things for Mom and Dad to work on.
All of the rooms were done except for a store room on the first floor,
which Dad and I worked on several weekends to put up wood paneling.
The outside landscaping needed the most work, which Mom and Dad
wanted to do themselves. Dad dug a root cellar and made a storage Aframe building beyond the flower beds to the north of the house, and built
a tool cabinet for rakes and brooms attached to the house. They both constructed a flagstone patio and rock wall garden behind the house. Many of
the rocks Dad gathered on his trips to Indian reservations. Mom said carrying the rocks and positioning them were the labor of her life, that she
had never done anything so physically demanding. Finally, Dad had to
plant trees and Mom planted all of her extensive vegetable and flower gardens. I never saw the gardens she raved about in Albuquerque or Belcourt,
but it is hard to imagine that she ever had prettier flowers.
The house looked like a Swiss chalet as you drove up the street toward
it. The front door led into a hall with stairs leading up to the main floor.
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On the main floor, a hall to the right led to two large bedrooms with a full
bathroom, while a hall straight ahead led past Dad’s library/den/TV room,
past the living room with large stone chimney on one end and floor-toceiling windows on the other side looking out over the valley, past a halfbathroom, into the kitchen which was easily twice the size of the previous
house. The counters and appliances were at one end with a breakfast table
and pantry at the other end and the dining room off to the side. Sliding
doors from the dining room led to a porch large enough for an eating table,
with outside stairs down to the ground. Sliding doors from the kitchen led
out to the back patio which was at ground level since the land sloped up
from front to back.
The front entranceway also led straight on the lower floor to a family
room with another fireplace. Off from the family room was a bedroom, a
store room, a greenhouse, a bathroom, and sliding doors out to a deck under the porch. Finally, there was a huge two-car garage that had a good 15
feet at the end to use as Dad’s workshop, access to the mechanical room.
It was apparent that the new home was not a “downsizing” from the
old home. They both had 9 rooms, but the new house had an extra bathroom, larger kitchen, more closets, far better workshop, and a greenhouse.
And Dad got his 50 ft target range with the addition of a “bomb shelter”
off of the store room. The shelter was basically just an extension of the
foundation, maybe 3 ft wide, 5 ft high, and 5 ft deep., and added just
enough to the length of the garage and store room that Dad could shoot a .
22 rifle from near the garage door to a target in a bullet trap at the back of
the shelter.
Dad kept active in Boy Scouts, the Lions Club, the stamp club, and the
Billings Archaeological Society. He became president for the Archaeological Society in December of 1969. He participated in several bird counts
for the Audubon Society. Mom and Dad together attended bible study
classes and joined the Garden Club, and Dad spent a lot more time helping
Mom with the planting, weeding, and watering of the gardens. One year
Dad made a display of 20 different types of pine cones which won first
place at the flower show. This spurred Mom into creating pinecone pictures, pinecone wreaths, pinecone Christmas rings, and decoupage pictures, all of which relied on Dad to make the frames and backings. Mom,
somewhat surprising to herself, became an artist, and Dad proudly helped
her.
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View north of the house with the flagstone patio and several rows of flowers
bordered by rocks Dad and Mom found and placed themselves. Beyond the flowers
was the A-frame storage building and the slope up to the rimrocks. Dad unsuccessfully tried to buy this land to insure that no house would ever be built there.
View of the south and west sides of the house. The fruit trees and bee hives were just
out of the photo to the left.
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The move to the new home, along
with their retirements, revitalized
Mom and Dad’s relationship. They
spent many years with a deep division
of labor where Mom ran the house and
took care of the children and Dad
worked (and traveled). They also never did anything without us children. In
our 13 years living at 1128 N. 32nd St.,
I can only remember four times when
Dad and Mom went somewhere alone:
twice they went to neighboring towns
to what I think were weddings or similar social gatherings; once they went
to a restaurant on their wedding anDad's pine cone collection
niversary, and once (or maybe more)
they went to a social event for BIA
employees. Now, they could be together and work together and travel together, and they became partners in everything they did. The house
provided a perfect backdrop for their companionship, as they built the
patio and rock walls, the gardens, the fruit trees, and the
bees. They made Choke Cherry
Sun wine and delicious honey
still in the comb. Mom grew
many vegetables: tomatoes,
potatoes, lettuce, swiss chard,
etc., some of which were
stored in the root cellar.
I remember going with
Dad on two of his business
trips when I was home for the
summer of 1972. Once we
drove to the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming. On the
way back we picked up some
large (at least a foot long) flat
reddish rocks to use in the rock
One of the many decoupage frames Dad made garden at home. On the other
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trip, Dad attended a two-day conference at a college in Bend,
Oregon. We picked up an elderly
Northern Cheyenne Indian who
told some interesting stories
about the Sun Dance, and drove
two days to Bend, spending a
night in an old hotel in an
equally old one-street town along
the way. Mom asked about the
hotel, because she complained
about Dad spending his trips at
flea-trap hotels to save a little
money from his per diem wage
to then spend on stamps.
In 1970 Congress passed a
law that shortened the time Dad
needed to work before retiring.
By living room fireplace – note Mom's pine He retired after 33 years and two
months of service, just before his
cone wreath
63rd birthday, on May 31, 1971,
only to be rehired on a temporary basis from August until January 8, 1972.
On January 21, 1972 he received an Honor Award for Meritorious Service
from the Secretary of the Interior, Rogers B. Morton. His pay at retirement
was $21,313. His colleagues made a retirement book that included 40 letters and cards from colleagues all over the country. One card hand-drawn
by Ralph Shane just for Dad was signed by 117 people, both Indians and
BIA colleagues. The letters had many touching
remarks such as: “The
Indian people will be the
real losers because you
have dedicated your career and life to helping
them. You have been
their ‘friend in court’ –
you have constantly
helped them in every
way you could. Your
Dad at his workbench
133
vast research into their background and history has given you an understanding of Indian people and the problems presented to them by the divergence of the two cultures they try to straddle.”
Retirement card by BIA colleague Ralph Shane
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Crawford family at east side of house about 1970
Dad’s first major trip with his new freedom was to Pasadena to attend
my graduation from Caltech. He spent two nights with me in my dorm
room before we loaded up my Ford Pinto and drove north. The trip
touched on several parts of Dad’s past, but
I didn’t know to ask the right questions that
might have revealed much more about his
years in California. We started through Glendale, rather than taking the quicker Pasadena Freeway, so we could pull over to
the side of the road where Dad roughly
pointed out where somebody, who I remember being one of his cousins Rex or
Glen, used to live. Now I know Glendale is
where Peach was staying with her brother
when she died. From there we eventually
ended up along the coast, and as we drove
through Monterey he mentioned his Grandparents vacationed in Pacific Grove, just a
few miles up the peninsula. We avoided Caltech Graduation – June 1971
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San Francisco, where he could have shown me where he used to live and
work, and instead headed to Sacramento, where we visited an elderly woman who was the mother of one of his friends in Steamboat. Of course I
immediately forgot any of the conversation about Steamboat. Again, instead of heading through Lakeport where he could have shown me where
he lived at least two years, we traveled I5 all the way to Seattle. I drove
the entire time, and was surprised Dad was not at all upset when I ran out
of gas on the Interstate. He calmly napped in the car while I hitchhiked
back to get a can of gas. Once we reached John’s place in Seattle, Dad
flew to Billings while I flew to visit Nancy in Alaska.
Mom and Dad at Christmas 1972
In August of 1971 Dad, Mom, and Sharon took the ferry up the Inland
Passage to Skagway, Alaska. From there they took the White Pass and
Yukon Railroad to Whitehorse and a bus an the Alcan highway through
Tok Junction to Fairbanks to meet Nancy, spend two nights at Mt. McKinley, and fly home.
In September, Dad drove with Sharon to Concord, Massachusetts,
where she was starting a new job. I drove separately to Cambridge, and
joined Dad one night to see a Red Sox game. I was unused to the confusing roads in Boston, and we missed the first few innings, but still enjoyed
our only major league ball game together.
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Mom and Dad must have decided the
ideal time to travel would be early spring,
after the cold winter but before they needed
to work in the garden. For three years, they
took a major trip out of the country – the first
time Dad ever needed a passport. In 1972 the
trip was to Switzerland, where they spent a
month visiting Mom’s relatives and taking
side trips to Paris and Rome. As with all of
his retirement trips, Dad kept a detailed daily
journal. He recorded everything he could:
what plane seats they had, what the cost of
every item was for lunch, the names of all
the towns the train went through, etc., but
Dad on trip to Switzerland
then he would skip entire days, sometimes
two or three in a row, and never go back to even mention the highlights of
the day. On the way to Europe, Dad and Mom spent a day in Boston visiting Sharon and me. Sue and Steve Stitt joined us for an Easter egg hunt at
Walden Pond.
In the spring of 1973 Dad and Mom traveled three weeks to India,
where they toured and visited the family of Taroo, a family friend who
Nancy first met in Hawaii, and who often spent Christmas with us in
Billings. They once again stopped in Boston on the way back, and saw the Patriots Day parade in Concord and the Boston Marathon in 100° heat. In India they
went to New Delhi, Kashmir, Corbett National Park where they rode an elephant,
Nepal, and Ceylon. Dad really enjoyed
this trip and all of the exotic sights they
saw. Prior to leaving, he filled an entire
notebook with facts about India including
drawing political and geological maps.
Since it was in the days before the ubiquitous bottled water, Dad carried a water
bottle of good Montana water with him,
which he would only take a sip from
every so often when he really needed it,
Mom wearing sari from India
so it lasted him most of the trip.
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Finally in the spring of
1974 Dad and Mom went on
their last international trip together for a couple weeks to
Mexico. They flew to Mexico
City for a few days, then took
a bus to Coatzacoalcos, Merida, Chitzen Itza, Oaxaca and
Monte Alban, Cuereveraca,
Taxco, and finally Acapulco.
After a week at home, they Dad and John in family room downstairs
flew to Seattle where they met
John and drove with him up to Vancouver for the weekend.
On May 9, 1974, Mom wrote a letter to all of her children and siblings
that started: “I have always hoped I would never have to write a letter like
this to my children and relatives. But as we grow older we have to prepare ourselves for the inevitable to happen.” In a rather lengthy letter she
explained that during Dad’s annual physical two weeks earlier, x-rays
showed a growth in his lungs. They performed a broncoscopy and found
the growth to be cancerous. He checked into the Billings Deaconess Hospital on April 30, and a proctoscopy on May 3 rd revealed a 2.5 cm tumor
(“ulcerated invasive adenocarcinoma of the rectum” according to the doctor). Six days later they operated on Dad and successfully removed the tumor. However they could do nothing to remove the cancer cells that had
traveled to his lungs. He remained there for eight days on a very limited
diet, and lost 12 pounds.
Once home, he was weak and tired for a week, but then regained his
weight and energy. On May
29, Dad and Mom flew to Salt
Lake City where he received
seven daily chemotherapy
treatments of 5-Florouracil at
the University of Utah Medical
Center, followed by three more
treatments spaced a week apart
back in Billings. When Dad
first entered the hospital on
April 30, he stopped taking his
Dad and Jim playing cribbage in kitchen
asthma drug, quadrinal. But in
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Salt Lake his coughing bothered him again. The doctor assured Dad the
cough was due to his bronchiol-asthmatic allergy, not cancer, and that he
could resume quadrinal. Mom wondered in her letters if quadrinal had
caused the cancer.
Dad spent the rest of the summer in a normal life, showing no effects
of the cancer. I came home with a friend in August, and Dad went with us
on a quick 1-day trip through Yellowstone Park that Dad did so often with
visitors. Dad and I then took his last fishing trip. We drove up one afternoon to the jeep trail that starts up the mountain to Hellroaring Plateau.
When the road got too steep and treacherous for the car, we parked and
carried our packs straight up the mountainside, a distance of only one
mile, but gaining 1000 feet in elevation. Dad had plenty of strength to
make that climb, and showed no ill effects of old age or cancer. At the first
lake we came to, we set up our pup tent, ate dinner, and fell asleep. I
wasn’t surprised when I woke up in the morning to the clatter of a frying
pan, because Dad always woke up before dawn, and I never did. I wasn’t
even surprised when Dad showed me the mess of fish he had already
caught. He good naturedly scolded me about how you have to have your
fishing pole ready when the fish are biting. Of course the fish never bit for
me the whole day, and I came away with a half dozen while Dad easily
caught double that amount, plus the early morning fish. I think he could
have been blind and crippled, and he would still have caught more.
Billings Gazette clipping of a party in 1970s
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In September, Dad took his last trip, to Alaska to visit Nancy with her new
baby Michelle. The highlight of the trip was a caribou hunt with six others
that Dad described as fabulous. He shot a buck, and at one point after the
shooting, got within 30 feet of a band of more than 200. He also got to
duck hunt and fish on the trip.
Christmas that year was sad because it became obvious that the cancer
was overcoming Dad. He was still active, but his body was starting to ache
and his mood was changed, as if he had a perpetual cloud over his head. A
month later, Mom and Dad celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary at
the Northern Hotel. Mom reported that Dad could not really participate in
planning the event, and just barely had enough strength to last the evening.
Nancy and Michelle came to visit during the first half of June, and Dad
started recording stories for Michelle. Michelle was christened at the
church, but Dad was unable to attend, and that bothered him. Sharon came
for the first half of July, and listened to more stories and transcribed them
into the Stories For Michelle booklet (see Appendix). John came next for a
long weekend, and took the last two photos of Dad on July 20th.
On my birthday, I was awakened at 3AM by a call from Mom (she
was confused about the time zone difference) to tell me that I had better
come home soon if I wanted to see
Dad alive (I have since always
dreaded answering the phone late
at night). I arrived home two
weeks later just after John left.
Dad was a changed person: 40
pounds lighter, only a few tufts of
hair, basically just skin and bones,
with a large golf-ball sized lump
on his right neck. He could only
walk with a cane and somebody
holding him, and spent most of his
day in bed, groggy from the medicine and gasping for air. He had an
oxygen bottle by his bed, and he
basically wanted to use it all the
time, but Mom said the doctor
wanted him to only use it for 5'
every half hour. He was afraid
Dad in kitchen in 1975
once Dad was used to it, he would
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need more and more – I've often
thought how foolish that policy
was, since it would have made
Dad's last week more pleasant. I
could only talk to Dad in spurts,
or I should say he could only
talk in spurts, and then only in a
whisper. Near the end of that
week home, Dad was having a
harder time breathing, and the
doctor said it was time to take
him to the hospital. They
brought an ambulance for him,
since he needed the oxygen
bottle to breathe. I remember
thinking he would just be in the
hospital for a couple days, before they could bring him home
again. I don't remember visiting
Dad and Michelle in June, 1975
him in the hospital. I think he
was there one night, and then
the following evening after dark (11PM) we got a phone call which I
heard Mom answer upstairs. I heard her give a little gasp, then silence. I
went up immediately to see who it was; she had hung up and was crying,
the only time I can ever remember seeing Mom cry. She said that was the
hospital calling, that a nurse was in the room checking equipment when
Dad gave a little "sigh" and the nurse looked over and he was dead.
On July 31 the church was packed for a memorial service (178 people
signed the guest book), followed the next day by a small grave-side service in the cemetery in Steamboat Springs. The pall bearers in Billings
were Ralph Shane, Ben Laws, Justin Leggate, Russ Cowan, Vance Day,
and Art Desonia; and in Steamboat Springs were Bob Noyce, Russell Okman, Dr. John Utterback, Bob Wither, Elmer Brooks, and Vernon Summers. Many of Dad’s friends from his work, Boy Scouts, Church, and
Lions Club sent sympathy cards to Mom. 3 The sheer number of cards
speaks volumes about how many people were influenced by Dad’s life.
3
One notable card was from William J. Jameson, U.S. Senior District Judge. The Bureau
of Indian Affairs recently moved into a new building in Billings that is named the Judge
Jameson Federal Building.
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Dad on the back patio – July 20, 1975
Here are some quotations from the cards:
“…passing of such a brilliant, dedicated and gentle man”
“…was a very high example of Scouting.”
“All of our lives were enriched by knowing Jim.”
“…one of the more delightful persons we have been lucky enough to
meet.”
“…was a faithful servant of our church.”
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“We all respected Jim very much.”
“We will remember Jim as one of the great leaders of the American
Indian Youth.”
“Alumni of the U. of Colorado Hiking Club speak very highly of
Jim.”
“He made the world a nicer place for so many because of his dedication and love of people. Our lives are richer because of Jim
Crawford and memories will always be precious.”
“Mr. Crawford was a wonderful friend to all and always so especially interested in youth. At least 3 of ours, and hundreds of others have better lives because of his help.”
“Jim’s unfailing good humor and sunny disposition always were an
inspiration to me.
“Was a wonderful person and contributed so much to all.”
“We will remember him as one of the most interesting men we’ve
known. He made so many contributions to so many groups that
he will be sorely missed.”
“A sweet guy and such a fine, intelligent, sensitive Christian.”
“…appreciated Jim’s hard work and dedication.”
“He was an influence for good at the office.”
“…we learned so much and grew from knowing him in archeology,
Scouts and at church.”
“Jim was such a good man and set a fine example for others to follow. He was not an ordinary fellow.”
“Mr. Crawford enriched the lives of all who were privileged to know
him.
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144
Epilogue
Dad was in his mid-fifties before I have any memories of him, and the
person I knew was a business man. He wore a suit to work (never a sport
jacket or coat; always a dark brown or gray suit that he bought once a year
in January when post-Christmas sales made clothes cheapest to buy), and
with it a felt hat with a brim. He came home to have lunch with us every
day until I went to junior high. After work, he usually came home tired (he
got up before 5AM), and would fall asleep in his easy chair before dinner.
After dinner he would go out for a meeting still wearing his suit, or change
into his casual clothes (khaki pants and plaid shirt, perhaps his Crawford
tartan shirt, often with suspenders, tennis shoes, and a baseball-type fishing hat) to go to Boy Scouts on Thurs. evening or rifle club on Friday
nights. I didn’t really know what he did at work, but dressed in his suit
and carrying a briefcase full of papers, I figured it was boring and not for
me.
Since he died, I have many times wished that I could ask Dad questions about his life. Even more, I wish he could have seen all of his grandchildren, and shown them personally what type of person he was. He was
honest, dependable, conscientious, didn’t smoke or drink, kind to all he
met, and worked hard all of his life. Nancy remembers Dad as being the
dreamer, while Mom was the realist. Dad and Nancy would dream of traveling and going to various places or doing things, while Mom would poopoo their ideas. When Nancy received word that she had been accepted
into the Peace Corps, Dad was excited for her to see new places and do
new things, while Mom broke into tears.
I hope this book has succeeded in introducing him to those who never
knew him.
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Appendix 1. Grandfather’s Stories For Michelle
The following stories told by Dad shortly before his death are from the
booklet “Grandfather’s Stories For Michelle”.
One of the Best Shots I Ever Made while Initiating My New Rifle!
Clifford "Red" Whiting had lost a treasured friend whose wife had
asked him to sell the guns that he had, and "Red" had offered me a nice .
270 caliber built by the famous gunsmith Newton. The friend had wanted
the .256 Newton to be re-bored into a .270. It was hard to get .256 ammunition, and .270 was the craze of the day.
Red and I had planned a deer hunt on the North Kaibab on the Grand
Canyon of the Colorado in fall of 1948(?). In this beautiful fall winter day
we were camped on the west side of the mesa in an assigned campground.
After an early breakfast we climbed into Red's pickup and headed easterly
up out of the branch canyon to hunt around the rims. The quaking aspen
leaves had turned and were very beautiful among the evergreens. Halfway
up the canyon we found where five deer had crossed the road and they all
looked like big buck tracks. We parked the pickup, got out and began to
follow the tracks in a north-westerly direction. After about a half mile the
deer split up, three branching in a southerly direction, two continuing
westerly and almost straight ahead. We decided Red would take the three
tracks because he knew the country.
I had followed the two tracks more than a mile when they hit down
into a pretty steep canyon. After cautiously descending the canyon perhaps
half way, I saw the two bucks for the first time toping out on the canyon
rim to the west. They did not see me but stayed near the top for several
minutes, and I thought perhaps they were going to bed down for the day
near the top of the rim. However, after several minutes of walking back
and forth and around they decided to move on.
I cautiously descended the remainder of the canyon and climbed the
other side. When I finally reached the top where I could see beyond, I noticed the two bucks milling around in some rather open timber and almost
immediately dropped down in the snow for the day's rest. One had his
back curved toward me, and the other one had it curved in the opposite
direction, and was watching his approach tracks.
At this time I was looking through several feet of snow-covered choke
cherry and other brush trees. I was finally able to advance on my knees
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and stomach till I was within about 475 yards of the two deer, and approached one last choke cherry bush that still was loaded with a couple
inches of snow.
I crouched there for several seconds, scared to move forward because the
deer would see me, jump and run, and because I was fast getting chilled in
the early afternoon snow. I continued to keep brushing the snow that
dropped on the gun from the overhanging branches, sight through the telescope, and wished something would happen so I would not have to make
the decision to shoot at the buck. Finally I decided things were getting no
better and I was a long ways from camp and that I should shoot at one of
the bucks and get out of there.
I was really excited because of firing at my first big game with my
new .270 rifle, and in not hearing Red shoot any off to my left where I
knew he must be getting close to one of the three deer he was following.
Finally after deep breathing, squeezing my hair trigger and reacting as
a novice hunter, I touched off the set trigger and then I lunged forward
through the brush only to see one large buck deer standing looking confused in my general direction. I carefully focused the 8-power binoculars
that hung around my neck under my hunting coat and by carefully keeping
an eye on the buck deer out in the open, I scanned the immediate vicinity.
In the confusion I had failed to determine at which buck I had shot. I
quickly picked out a small black streak in the deep snow and analyzed it to
be a dead deer. So I belatedly walked toward the deer. The live one
watched me approach until I was nearly 200 yards away when he turned
and trotted farther away.
I had actually made a beautiful shot, hitting the dear at the back of the
skull, which had then only dropped its head into the snow. As I approached closer and closer I was more excited because I could begin to see
the long tines famous in the Kaibab deer protruding up from the snow. It
didn't take me long to field dress the deer, but it was so heavy I could not
do other than place it on a sloping tree for the night where it would nicely
drain.
Although this action didn't take very long, I listened for a shot from
Red, because the other deer still stayed close by and had I been inclined
could have undoubtedly killed this other buck also. However, this was one
of the unwritten laws that Grandfather and Dad taught us, that unless
emergency or pre-planned hunting, every hunter shot only the number permitted.
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The sunlight was getting pretty low on the southwest side of the big
white quaking aspen trees when I started toward camp, knowing that I had
one big canyon to cross. I noticed when I arrived at the pickup that Red
had not returned, so I hiked down the road to camp. But it wasn't very
long, however, before he drove up, tired, wet, cold, and no deer.
Hummingbird Nest
During more than 65 years enjoying the outdoors, I had observed only
three hummingbirds nest in the wilds.
One of these was located near the upper cabin of the Pritchett Ranch
where this hummingbird had its nest in the pink wild roses. We watched
this nest for a long time because it was easily accessible and cousins Margaret and Lulita and Aunt Lulie used it as an attraction for entertaining
visitors.
The second one was found while Aunt Mary, Marjorie Metcalf, one of
her operetta friends from Massachusetts who often spent several weeks at
Aunt Mary's cabin, "high up on Soda Creek," and I had been fishing up
near the junction where Iron and Yellow had joined together to form Soda
Creek. We had picked out a place in the trail where the pine needles were
matted together in a large enough opening among the spruce trees to make
a comfortable place to have our picnic lunch before really heading back to
the cabin. As we were talking about the day's activities while enjoying our
lunch we noticed a ruby-throated hummingbird quite active in the spruce
tree immediately above us. But as we remained perfectly quiet, making no
unnecessary moves, we found that it soon flew from a limb to its nest situated on a new growth of the spruce tree near its tip. The nest was lined
with white soft poplar fluff which was quite plentiful around the trees. It's
little dark bill and head turned straight to the sky on one end and the tail
feathers did likewise on the other end. As we had wanted to watch it more,
Marjorie quietly sat back under the tree while Aunt Mary and I cleaned the
fish in a nearby creek. Soon Marjorie whispered loudly that the hummingbird had left the nest and we hurried over there to see the inside of it. It
was lined with the fluff and the soft down feathers of the humming bird. A
loose silver dollar I had in my pocket just covered the nest and the four
eggs which looked like they had only recently been laid. We had a long
ways to go back to the cabin and so reluctantly we bid the nest and bird
good-bye and headed down the trail to Aunt Mary's cabin.
On the east side of our lot in front a hummingbird chose to build its
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nest on a quaking aspen limb some twelve feet above the ground. Although the hummingbirds were quite thick in the flower bed of the front
yard, and we suspected that a nest was located somewhere close by, it was
actually several days before we found the nest itself. When mother hummingbird began feeding her youngsters, an audience assembled to witness
the activity. It was really quite a sight for it didn't seem possible that four
such fat little birds could eat and sleep and grow in that one little nest, but
they grew fast and it was only a matter of days before they were ready to
head south for the winter. The hummingbird pair, or perhaps one of the
offspring and its mate returned several seasons to nest here seemingly for
our enjoyment.
How the Crawford Family became Acquainted with one of their very
Best Lifelong Friends
"If you're a Game Warden, you've got me." These were the rather resonant words that came between the whiffs of pipe smoke, as the sawyer
stopped sawing and welcomed my father John Crawford, your grandfather, into the cabin. My father had already noticed that he was sawing with
his left arm and remembered that his brother, my Uncle Logan, had told
him about a refugee who had lost his right arm while dynamiting fish on
the east side of the Divide.
My father John quickly told him his brother Logan had told him that
there was a stranger trapping in the general area before the snow got too
deep.
Although the cabin was small, it was well-made of red spruce logs,
just enough for one man to lay up. While Frank cooked supper my father
sawed more wood and split enough for kindling with which to start several
fires. Soon it was stacked near one of the walls. And when the water buckets were filled, the two men sat down to eat a very tasty elk steak supper,
which didn't take long as they were both very hungry after long hard day's
work.
(Although this was one of the most interesting evenings my father ever
spent, with one or two exceptions, I'm going to lump the evening stories
into generalities.)
Frank was a young Austrian lad, born and raised high in the Austrian
Alps. As far as I know he only had a mother living at that time. They were
poor, and although a hard worker and in good health, it took all of Frank's
activities to make ends meet. It was the custom for the Austrian governwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
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ment to have conscription where training and service were done for a
number of years. But when the time came and with the permission of his
mother he left his home and with some small savings traveled to America.
Upon arriving in America he quite naturally worked westerly until he
found himself in the Nebraska-Wyoming- Colorado area. Here he worked
at several jobs, not only because he was a good worker and honest, but because he used much more natural ability than other workers his age.
He knew it was wrong, but on a Sunday afternoon he wired together
several sticks of dynamite and went out to the muddy creek close to his
camp to do some fishing. Probably because he knew it was wrong, he was
not as careful as he should have been and could have been, for the dynamite went off just before he tossed it into the stream. His mangled right arm
dangled from the cords and muscle.
He was very scared, for now he had also violated one of the laws of his
new country, but with plenty of courage, he did not panic but severed the
hand and forearm and miraculously stopped the bleeding from the main
arteries running through his arm. He realized now that in order for him to
survive he must find something he could do to furnish himself food for the
winter. The accident greatly delayed him getting outfitted.
During his early boyhood he had learned how to trap the small furbearing animals of his native Austria. He had also learned more about the
fur-bearing animals in America. So even though it was a belated start, late
in the fall, Frank had gone westerly near the top of the Continental Divide
in an isolated heavily-timbered area of Colorado where he hoped to trap a
few red fox and marten. He also realized that he had to have a warm place
to stay, and he had to have food to eat. Unfortunately, he knew that the big
game had probably migrated out of the high country to their wintering
feed grounds, but he had to take this chance. When he arrived in the general area where he had selected his cabin site, in the tickets red spruce imaginable, he saw where a little band of elk had trailed through there that
morning early.
The following morning he took his rifle, strapped on his home made
snowshoes, and began tracking the band of elk in a generally westerly direction. Although the snow was pretty deep in some places, and the elk
were traveling more rapidly than usual, I'm sure they did not realize that
they were as desperate as Frank. Hour after hour he trailed the band.
Gradually gaining on them, it was not until the sun began to slant on the
snow that Frank glimpsed the first movement. He had finally caught up
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with the band of elk on the far side of a lake, since then named "_____" by
the Crawford Family.
Several times when I was a young boy I camped in this general area
with Frank and I could always say that the Good Lord was with Frank on
that shot. It could never have been made without "special assistance."
By the time Frank had hiked around and pulled the spiked bull elk out
of the lake, field dressed it, hung it, cut it in two pieces the right size to
carry to camp, it was late afternoon. He pulled in lots of limbs from nearly
fallen trees and prepared to rest himself during the night, returning to his
cabin site in the morning. After a long night of feeding the camp fire with
suitable fuel, he took out on his backtrail carrying as much of the meat as
he could. Because he was tired, and that his route lay generally up hill and
the load was heavy, it was nearly dark when he arrived at his selected cabin site.
He had to take the best of care of every pound of meat in order to make it
stretch as far as possible for his winter larder, which would be added to by
the blue grouse also wintering in this area.
Dad stayed several days with Frank helping him do the many things he
had not gained confidence in doing yet, helping him build a small meat
house, and helping him carry out the remains of the spiked bull elk. He
particularly taught him all of the fine secrets of martin and red fox trapping in deep snow. (Frank added a number of trapping tricks over the
years which made him almost as good a professional trapper as my father.)
These bits of stories told through the night as these two young men
shared their tobacco mixes are I am sure ones that the Crawford Family
and others very much enjoyed during story telling time in the hunting and
trapping cabins, outdoor camps and other places where outdoorsmen
gathered together.
The Power of the Oregon Grape Roots
Several times each summer I was invited and permitted to go back into
the high country with Frank Dengg. This was not only a special privilege
but one that was considered an honor, and hardly ever turned down for
whatever cause. I guess I was considered closer than a son, reminding
Frank of his early boyhood days in Austria.
This was to be a short trip to the Fish Creek Lakes, Long, Round, and
other bodies of water which had been stocked by trout from time to time.
Because the trip was not long, we did not think it was necessary to leave
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Steamboat until the middle of the day. The trail was well maintained by
the Forest Service and we made good time to the top, where our first body
of water was Long Lake. Although we had expected to camp at Round,
Frank was not feeling well and in considerable pain. We quickly unpacked
and unsaddled the horses except mine and then after making Frank as
camp-comfortable as possible, I was instructed to continue riding over the
Divide on the trail that meets the two little parks until I found Oregon
Grape growing. This I did until I found the roots growing in the lower
floral zone. Here I dismounted and with a shovel tied in a gunny sack back
of the saddle began to dig for the orange-yellow root. It did not take long
after finding the proper growth area to fill the sack with roots. I caught
Bill my red roan horse, re-saddled and after tying on the shovel and sack
of roots, mounted and headed westerly back up the trail toward where
camp and a very sick man were waiting.
It was almost dark when I made into camp, and quickly adjusted the
kettle for water, picked up the smoldering fire, and began to ask Frank for
further instructions on preparing his tea, and whatever else he could eat or
drink. Within a few minutes Frank was gulping down a very bitter tea,
already feeling much better with the pains starting to leave. although it
was almost dark I promised Frank I would catch a mess of trout for dinner
if he would just stay quiet and tell me how to serve him. (And I was able
to catch the fish which were feeding on the surface of the lake.)
By the time I completed the camp chores including changing the picketing of Betsy, Frank’s mule, the saddle and pack horses, I was real tired
by this time. Falling into my bed roll fully assured by Frank that he would
now be as good as new by daylight.
Health Problems as a Boy (6/23/08 to 8/29/29)
A. Epidemic Diseases
I had the usual run of epidemic diseases as they passed through the
community. As I remember, the hardest of these was the flu which appeared and then ran itself out generally through the World War I period.
B. Hand Saw Incident
The Arthur E. Wessells family were our closest neighbors on the east.
There was only one child, Lynn, whom everybody considered a sissy because he never liked to participate in any of the outdoor activities. However he and I got along better than most because he had a new bike, and I
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didn't, I didn't have any bike at all. But on occasion we were literally chasing each other around the houses, barn and places we could keep out of
each other's immediate way.
This particular summer morning I had been more than a little aggravated because he would not go for snaring with me, and I was pretty determined that he would go out to the pasture where the machines had dug
rather deep sewer trenches in preparation for subdividing the land into a
housing project, and which were alive with frogs and toads and mice and
gophers and other live objects which were nice to have about, but for
which neither Lynn nor his dainty Mother cared anything about.
I had chased Lynn into the barn and thought I knew where. I now had
him where I could properly persuade him to go with me on the morning's
excursion. But Lynn was laying for me in the hay mow where he had quite
a number of advantages when I poked my head up the ladder. Somewhere
he had picked up a hand saw, and when I did stick my head up the hay
mow hole, he proceeded to use my head as a proper sawing block, doing
considerable damage even before I could drop back down to the lower
level. His aim was good, and he had inflicted considerable damage, as
evidenced from the several streams of blood flying out through my hair
and forehead.
I wasn't long in letting the other nearby neighbors, the residents of the
block, and probably some of the town shoppers in knowing that I was hurt.
Mr. Wessells who had just driven home for his noon dinner quickly loaded
me in his car and drove me to the hospital where the doctor wasn't long in
cleaning up and sewing up my "very minor" injuries. My parents came to
the hospital immediately and picked me up, and I was able to spend the afternoon and rest of the day as a real hero, showing my bandaged head to
all the neighbor children who especially came by to see me.
C. A Forked Tine in the Middle of My Back
My mother Minnie Welch Crawford had an only sister living in Beloit,
Kansas with her husband Roy T. Pagett and her two sons Rex and Glen.
Before World War I it was pretty much an established custom that Mom
would go to Kansas for a few days, and after a two or three year period,
the Pagetts would come to Colorado for a few days. I had it all figured out
that high, cool, Colorado, was much, much preferred to low, hot Kansas.
Dad, Uncle Roy, Rex and Glen did likewise. For there was always extra
work in the court house at Steamboat Springs when it was time for Dad,
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Mom and I to take off, and it always wound up with Mom and I having to
make the trip alone, while Dad was laughing up his sleeve at not having to
endure the hardships of the heat. On the other hand, there was no problem
getting the men folk from the Beloit relatives to always make the Colorado
trip.
It was generally harvest time in Kansas, although Rex, Glen and I
managed to do a little Soloman River set line cat fishing, shoot a few halfgrown pigeons from high in the rafters of one of the old barns, or run
down and catch half-grown cotton tail and jack rabbits which were scared
from the shocked wheat by the teams picking up and loading the hay. But
this didn't compare with the several kinds of trout fishing, prospecting and
high altitude camping when the Pagetts came to Colorado.
The grain-stacking jobs rotated among the hired help, and Rex, Glen,
and I. Usually one would ride the wagon, restacking the grain or hay so
that as much could be put on as possible for each load. The other two
would walk along on opposite sides of the wagon helping to clean the
grain and hay stacks into the proper sized piles for the hired man to load
on the wagon. But of course the main job was to be ready when a halfgrown rabbit jumped from under the pile. Of course when this happened it
was everybody's responsibility to frighten the rabbit from the squashed
down wagon wheel tracks to the tall rows of stiff stubble, and run fast
after him, dodging back and forth in order to catch him if possible. And
when and if the rabbit was caught he was carried to a holding box located
somewhere in the center of the field where he would be left along with the
other frightened rabbits until quitting time. When taken home in the evening the rabbits were placed in any one of several long holding boxes
where, when enough had been accumulated, Aunt Grace substituted fried
young rabbit for chicken, a daily part of the menu.
On this particular afternoon we were hauling in our last load and had
sat down on top of the tall load preparatory to returning home for the
night. Rex, Glen and I were seated on top of this load ready to go when the
hired hay-hand climbed up over the side of the rack and was going to jab
the long tines into the load of hay for the ride as usual. However when he
made the jab, unfortunately he had the pitchfork tines turned the opposite
way, and when he jabbed them into the hay two of them quickly and
deeply punctured my back. First aid was completed in the field and then
all of us on the load hay raced across the field to the old farm car into
which I was piled and driven to the hospital. There really wasn't much to
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do in doctoring the holes, but all that could be done was done, and we
drove on home, I to awaken to a very sore and stiff back the next morning,
much too crippled up to hay in the hot sun.
D. The Skating Rink Incident in the Middle of the Yampa River
The town's children quite often gathered at the skating rink which was
not far from the little foot bridge crossing from town to Howelsen Hill.
We would carry our skates and equipment in an old gunny sack, leaving it
near the pond while we proceeded to ski or practice jumping. Then when
we were tired of skiing or on our way home we would stop and finish out
the day with some shimmy or other "home-made" skating games. Toukey
my faithful companion liked to chase me on skates and I would like to stay
ahead of him because he often did some skipping while chasing me. There
were only a few boys and girls skating this late in the day and I took off
across the lake urging Toukey to chase me. I didn't fully appreciate my
wondrous skating speed, and before I knew it, everything was black, I was
laying on the ice, quite an attentive crowd worried about my condition.
Outside of having the wind knocked out of me and a bloody nose, I survived all right.
The second and only other time I had the wind knocked out of me was a
few years later when I was a freshman in high school. I was a proud member of the freshman carnival committee who were putting on the jitney
dance during the evening's entertainment as our money-making activity.
Each of the committee members brought whatever equipment was available at home so expenses could be kept at a minimum. My donation was a
large rope to be used to hold the crowd back until the jitney members
could collect the jitney tickets before putting the rope away for the next
dance.
On the way to the school ground we crossed the play-ground section
which contained several large swing braces, one of which had been partially dismantled for repair. However, several of the committee and others
had gathered preparatory to entering the gymnasium, when someone suggested that we use the rope to see who could climb the highest on the
swing frame. A loop was tied in the end for the foot and, reaching around
the taunt rope when his turn arrived, one began to pull himself toward the
top with one stiff leg in the rope loop. This worked fine, and many of the
smarter boys were able to pull themselves near the top. On my second
time around, I had schemed how I could hold the rope with my arms and
pull a little higher. This worked out fine until I suddenly realized that I had
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a knee joint which quickly buckled on me, permitting the rope to slip off
the toe, and I to plummet earthward, landing on good old terra firma flat
on my back. When I awoke from a seemingly long deep sleep, quite a
crowd had gathered, high in the praises that I had reached the highest
point, and was declared the winner. It didn't take long to re-cooperate, and
soon I was inside the gym working with the committee members, putting
the finishing touches on the carnival preparation. Needless to say, I was
pretty stiff during the evening and even the activities did not retire all my
stiffness.
E. Jack Always Had It In For Me
Jack, a Boston bull terrier even though he lived in New York and
could have played his roll wherever he lived, was owned by Catherine B.
Cocheran who had taught in New York City for most of her teaching career. She dutifully lived with her Bostonian parents, driving them on long
trips during the camping season. Although she was always short of vacation, she pretty well managed to make the James H. Crawfords' home in
Steamboat Springs on her annual trek, getting back on her main route
somewhere to the east, northeast or southeast.
While the elderly Cocherans visited with Grandmother and Grandfather, Catherine would always make a trek to Aunt Mary's cabin to fish a few
days for the tasty native black spotted trout. These trout were small but
plenteous in Soda Creek which had a pretty good flow of water, flowing
out of the high mountains down the valley owned by Forest Service and
Aunt Mary's Homestead.
I was probably a boy of eight when the Cocherans arrived in Steamboat for their annual visit. Aunt Mary and Catherine were not long in organizing a trip to her cabin with Jack going along as an undignified member of the leashed dog group because he was an "easterner" and really did
not know how to behave in the west.
Sure enough, in de-winterizing the cabin which meant taking out brace
poles and other protection materials for the cabin which had to be used in
the late fall to brace the cabin for the heavy deep snows of winter, gray
squirrels had built their nest in the stones even though the pipe grate and
ovens were supposedly well-closed, and Mr. porcupine had sampled the
salt on the table legs and table top and had gnawed several boards in and
around the stove where grease had been spilled while pouring into the
morning hot cake grease can. Aunt Mary killed the porcupine by whacking
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it over the head with a garden shovel, and it was laid up on a pile of logs at
the woodpile near the back of the cabin. Jack immediately took over this
porcupine as his, both practically and theoretically, and although he was
properly tied with "eastern equipment", he managed to break the leather
tongs and straps during one of my ambitious runs from the front of the
house to the wash water spring only a short distance down the trail at the
back of the house. During this time Jack found himself free and ready to
utilize his stored up energy on me. As I ran by the cabin with the empty
water buckets, Jack took the few necessary jumps to reach me and proceeded to grab my left thigh in a huge mouthful, growling and biting with
increased energy. However between his healthy bites and my lofty
screams, Aunt Mary and Catherine soon arrived to the rescue and I was
separated from this vengeful mongrel with the long registered pedigree.
This didn't increase my love for Jack, and a couple of days later,
"someone" was careless enough to get the porcupine within his reach
where he properly filled his tongue, mouth, and jaws with sharp long black
and white porcupine quills.
Bill Leakey's Descriptions of Flu Germ
Bill was an old hard rock miner who had been in the Hahn's Peak area
from the gold rush days. Everybody liked Bill and Bill liked everybody.
His one eye didn't seem to hinder him from telling a good story or two
every morning at the Routt County Courthouse where he worked as official county janitor.
I often walked to work with Dad in the mornings to bring back the
mail to the house. On this particular morning Bill was pretty well along in
his work happy to see us and immediately ready with some stories. The flu
epidemic had been taking a pretty heavy toll of the citizens of the community, a wife here, a husband there, and Bill was currently talking about
the flu germ. In describing the size of the germ Bill was sure that "a million of the germs could hold a dance on the point of a needle, and not
touch each other."
Near a Den of Rattlesnakes
The John Crawford Family comprised of Dad, Mom, and me, and we
invariably went picnicking on the campout for both our evening meals and
our Saturday excursions. Part of the family collection of arrowheads, artifacts, and other stone instruments were gathered on these cookouts. Oftentimes the sweet corn or salads had been prepared at home the night before,
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and no time was wasted in getting started to where we were going that particular evening. And oftentimes there was a second purpose in where we
went - to shoot a sage chicken or two, catch a few mountain trout, or look
for Indian pictographs on the sandstone outcroppings.
We had chosen to do the later on this cookout and were completing
supper by holding our plate in one hand, eating with the other, and walking through the sage looking for Indian arrowheads. Dad had gotten started and was maybe fifty yards away when I heard him quietly call to
"come quick, Jimmy, and bring the shotgun. I'm surrounded by
rattlesnakes!" And sure enough, Dad was quietly standing in a little opening with at least six or seven rattlesnakes coiled or crawling in a very narrow perimeter. As I got close, it sounded like a wood saw factory from the
buzzing of the rattles. I followed an opening among the sage which I
thought would get me as close to Dad as I could. And then I started shooting rattlesnakes with Grandfather's double barreled shotgun. It didn't take
long to get up next to Dad where I could hand him his 12 gauge double
barreled shotgun, and the two of us proceeded to annihilate all of the rattle
population we could find. When it was over Dad proceeded to compliment
me on my part of the performance with "Good shooting, son; you didn't
panic under difficult conditions." In the meantime I was complimenting
Dad and firmly impressing in my mind how well a difficult situation was
handled. Mother was back at the campfire cleaning camp in order to get
out of there, indicating that with ten thousand places to go, Dad would
pick a rattlesnake den.
May 25th, the Opening Day of the Fishing Season, Any Year - Every
Year
No important political, economic, or social event was scheduled for
any where around May 25th. Fishermen divided it into two parts – a few
getting up early and catching the fish - trout, grayling, suckers and squawfish. If fishing was good the better fish were eaten for breakfast and
everything else saved for the evening fishout.
The family walked down the river with the two large frying pans, adequate bacon, eggs, and the sourdough pre-mixed before we left home,
butter, syrup, and salt.
Everyone hurried through fishing and breakfast in order that they
could get to work and school on time. Fishing continued after school and
work, and most of the women folks who were not fisherwomen prepared a
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more sumptuous meal for after the first day of fishing, the fishermen
gladly went back to their fishing routine, particularly to see who would get
the largest one for the season.
Although most any item was available for fish bait during the year,
maggots, grub worms, angle worms, suckermeat, squawmeat, minnows
and every and any artificial lure were the favorites and used most widely.
I merely want to stress the great fun both children and adults from the
old pioneer families enjoyed on this sacred day of May 25. So ends my
story.
Two cooks in the John D. Crawford Home
Mother did not like to go to bed early at night nor did she like to get up
early in the morning. She put in a good day's work at the office and we
nearly always had a good dinner of steaks or chops or most any meat from
the meat house. Along with these were the usual corn, potatoes, cabbage
or whatever might be in the vegetable bin. But one could always count on
muffins, jams and many other with fancy New England names. It's lucky
Dad and I both liked them for they were staple items for our evening meal.
On the other hand, Dad took over the breakfasts, and you knew it was
high time to get up when you could smell the coffee and the bacon frying.
In addition were sourdough pancakes, a platter full of bacon and eggs,
usually fried, but often stirred, with generally a piece of elk loin or some
other wild meat which we were currently using, well seasoned with Dad's
favorite "On-Ton-Pep-Etc" chili sauce.
If I went to bed at about the time that Dad did, about the last thing I
saw was a replenished starter can for the sourdough pancakes. Likewise if
I was up early, the first thing on the stove I saw was the sourdough can being divided for the breakfast supply and for later use. Several times a
month the pancake version was switched to hot biscuits, together with all
the other trimmings. So the Crawford daily food supply was properly
taken care of by Mom's cooking at night, Dad's cooking in the morning,
and the noon lunch either prepared at home for each of us, or they ate
lunch at a cafe or restaurant and I ate at the school cafeteria.
The Teepee Ring
Every year as far as I can remember we had a teepee ring on the north
side of the barn starting at about eight feet diameter and extending some
years more than thirty feet. This was our wood pile although a few other
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items were stacked there for handy reference. This had to have one time
per year of annual replenishment, but it was added to from the poles we
brought home after every trip to the valleys, mountains, and other outdoor
areas we happened to be in fishing, hunting, or looking for artifacts. The
Dodge touring cars that Dad had were adapted with a few iron bars which
easily carried long objects.
But the main time of replenishment was in early March when the deep
snows began to melt and a crust would form strong enough to carry a
horse. Fortunately northward and out the main back gate the terrain sloped
steep enough to easily pull a weighted toboggan and we had a dandy made
from home-manufactured skies and properly tied together with short parts
and nails, much like the toboggans used in the far north with typical Crawford alterations.
It was an annual event for our family and the neighboring families to
gather at daylight and go up the long open valleys through the small
groves of quaking aspens. The dead ones we wanted were easily identified
by their dead bark, and these would be pushed over and dragged to the
edge of the grove where they could be loaded on the next toboggan. Perhaps 28-35 long dry poles could be put on a load without making it too top
heavy. Then with Dad or one of the older men pulling and steering, one or
more of us children would climb on and have the ride of our lifetime. Getting the load back to our teepee pole we would quickly untie the ropes and
head back for the next load.
Soon after sunup the snow would begin to melt and we would begin to
break through. That meant that on this trip any wire gates would have to
be locked and everything left the way you found it. It usually took several
mornings to get what we needed.
During the next several days and weekends Dad and I would neatly stack
the dry poles ready for storage. From this master teepee, a much smaller
one was made in front of our woodshed near the backdoor. This is the one
used to really work with as often the small logs were sawed by hand by
bucksaw. A beautiful big chopping block next to it was used to split the
logs into usable fuel. For when I grew up we needed paper (usually the
Denver Post), several sticks of dry quaking aspen kindling, and a layer of
coal to start our fires.
Some Ways the John D. Crawford Family Preserved Their Food for
Winter
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Every household had its normal icebox for refrigeration with daily delivery of ice from downtown in chunks of 50 to 100 lbs which would fit in
the top. All of the older houses and the repaired ones had a root cellar,
very crudely built in the basement. All of the new homes had a fruit and
vegetable cellar basement where most of the fruits and vegetables could be
stored and in several cases was fitted to store, and which had water,
shelving, and adequate space for the needs of a more normal modern family.
Grandfather Crawford and we had the old time ones. This was the kind
of storage to particularly store the meats when an elk quarter was brought
in from the solid freezing unit and skinned the next morning after it had
been in the cellar all night where the warm air would soften it. It would be
skinned and cut up into the various cuts for use in the days to come. These
would be placed in this type of storage. One of the few disadvantages was
that you pretty much used that type of meat until it was gone. But it did
serve an important and useful purpose.
Third type: this was the type that was used to hang frozen meat when it
was brought in from the hunt. It would stay frozen for as long as was
needed to age and preparatory for going through the other steps. But is
was a very necessary step and few hunters had an outside buggy shed almost made to order to hang the larger pieces of animals. The ducks, rabbits, grouse, sage chickens, fish and other smaller game all had particular
locations in the storage shed directed by the hunters and their wives from
the warm fireplaces within the various homes.
Dad watched the weather pretty close at this time of year and the time
would come when work clothes and school clothes were changed pretty
fast and the cabbage hill was dug, cabbage cleaned ever so little and carefully stored with expert hands and knowledge. Usually the center of the
bed was selected for the center of the storage hill. Dirt was shaken from
the roots and the first row of cabbages were placed on the roots and a
beautiful spiral was formed and began its upward journey. If we had had a
good crop then much of the crop had been used for making sauerkraut
which was stored in the house usually in 60 gallon crocks to be used
mainly later, mainly consumed in large pot-luck dinners of the Arbuckle
Club when they had their frequent entertainments several times a month.
The Arbuckle Club
One of the most exciting of family fun was the gathering of the familwww.CrawfordPioneersOfSteamboatSprings.com
162
ies of the Arbuckle Club. This was comprised of individuals, the fathers
and mothers and the children who were drawn together mostly because of
pioneer affiliation of the John Crawfords and the Jake Grossbecks who
brought in the Butlers, the Sees and others through one connection or another. So there will be lots of confusion. The membership are as follows:
Crawford – 3 & Log = 4 & later Rex Pagett make 5
Grossbeck – 4 & Major Lawrence = 5
Lola Home (there were older children who participated occasionally when
they returned from school on vacations)
Sees – Casey, Jenny, Webster (Web), Louise (& later Margarite) - 5
Burgmans – Frank & Aileen – 2
Wilsons – Floyd & Velma – 2
Butlers – 4
A Grouse Hunt
Whenever we could we camped out. Someone had an old buckboard
wagon, somebody had a team. Somebody had a grub bait box. Everybody
brought their own rolls for bedding. Planning went on for quite a while.
Finally after several weeks of talking about it most of the details were
pulled together and the day arrived for us to start our camp. Most of the
guns and odds and ends including the women and children were driven by
car on some road to the edge of the valley. One of the cars usually transported all the late workers and those who could not get to the end of the
car road by dark. The rest of us started out early and walked and rode and
took our leisurely time - most of the day - getting to the beginning of the
campsite in plenty of time to set up camp and have supper cooking by the
time the other individuals arrived. One of the favorite spots was in the
Gunn Creek - Crystal Peak area.
Our site was usually in a small park among beautiful scattering spruce,
quaking aspen with occasional smaller trees and groups of chokecherry
and other types of brush and low growing tree. Other types of growing
trees growing up the very small valleys from the main creek of either
Crystal Creek or Gunn Creek depending upon which one we decided to
camp at this year.
A Scouting trip usually brought news of game which had passed that
way. However they did give us pretty good information where the grouse
were located.
163
After supper was completed and things generally set up for breakfast,
everybody turned in, in one long bed generally made up family by family,
and the bed was generally made up on one of the old road beds.
If the indications were that there were lots of grouse in the general
hunting country the horses were taken care of for the night usually in a
pole corral to keep them from running down through the meadow at night.
A lot depended upon which horses we had for hobbles and feed and all influenced(?) but to my memory we only lost one team over all the years we
camped in this area.
When Dad Knew He Had the Finest Son He Ever Raised
When the sun hit the tops of the peaks and the early morning sounds of
the coyotes and smells of outdoor camping and the talking of grouse up
several different valleys permitted us to open the day, one felt it was great
to be alive.
One of the Tricks played on us while we were in New Delhi
Mom and I had just checked into the _____ Hotel, cleaned up, changed
our clothes, and now wanted to walk around the city awhile to perhaps do
a little “black marketing” in the exchange of coins between Indian and
American markets. We had made arrangements to meet the father and/or
son of Mrs. _____ whose luggage we had checked on our ticket from New
York. We were rather tired sitting down, as we had been on the plane for
____ hours, and were glad of the opportunity. The long malls opened up
many ways. We could witness cooking and trading of the Indian people
without walking too far.
As I said, we were in clean clothes and just sightseeing. We were invited
to buy any number of kinds of trinkets and candies and services. One of
the many were the shoe shiners. Our shoestrings were new and we had
already had our shoes cleaned once by some of the urchins who were
working these malls. In fact I was even getting a little provoked at the
word “no” not meaning “no.” Finally the boys sensed that I was getting a
little more angry than they expected me to, and somehow I was made to
realize that my shoe had not its beautiful last polish, but contained a squirt
of some kind of cream which I thought looked a little bit like it might be
peach sherbert. Mom had already gone through making her shoe available
a second time in order that she could get her heels renewed. She really
didn’t want her heels renewed but she lost control of the situation when
they took the shoe with the worse heel across the street to a larger more
164
permanent stand where the man was doing a nonchalant job of replacing
the heal. So we stopped to talk about the situation with my shoes with
some kind of cream on them, and Mom’s shoes with one heal on and one
heel off, so we finally began to laugh, and get everybody’s attention and
mood in a better frame of mind, as by now a few policemen had arrived to
straighten out the large crowd. Their solution was to pay a reasonable
amount of the bill and everyone go their own way.
Anyway we learned inexpensively some of the fun the young folks play on
their customers and seemingly get away with. Mom has a little different
version and her story ought to be attached to this one.
[The following story was told by Dad many times around the Sunday dinner table. He did not tell it with the other stories above, so the wording is
mine, but told as if it were in Dad’s own words.]
The Cow in the Bell Tower on Halloween
One year on Halloween Eve some of my friends and I decided we
would play a trick on the town. We waited until dark, after everyone had
left the school building except for one of us who remained hidden inside.
One of us went to get some hay, one of us got some rope, and one of us
went to the pasture to get Bessy the cow. We met back at the school,
where we quietly opened the door and, by enticing her with the hay, led
Bessy up the stairs to the bell tower. There we put down the rest of the hay
and she started munching contentedly. We then took a short piece of rope
and tied one end to her tail and the other end to the clapper of the bell. At
this point we all snuck back down the stairs and along the streets to our respective homes. Bessy took a long time to finish her meal, and then she
turned around to see where she was. Of course the bell rang, which
frightened her and made her turn every which way to see where the sound
came from, causing the bell to ring louder and more often. This woke
everybody in town up, and soon a crowd gathered at the school to see
what was going on. Somebody finally untied Bessy’s tail so the bell
stopped ringing, but then nobody could get Bessy down the stairs, since
cows can easily climb steps, but they can’t go down steps. Several men
had to get on every side of Bessy and half carry her down those steps. The
town never did find out whose those three boys were.
165
166

James Daniel Crawford - Crawford Pioneers of Steamboat Springs

Transcription

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