Category Archives: Roy Caple

Chapter 24-The Life and Times of William Roy Caple- 1933

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Mae Edith Phillips Caple

After his Sister’s death Roy took solace in spending time with his wife and children.  Mae’s parents had decided to rent a farm just out of town on Waller Road.  They had a four-bedroom farmhouse and when Mae felt well, they enjoyed weekend visits.

Roy did his best to help his father-in-law with some of the heavier work while Mae and her mother worked in the kitchen.

One evening they sat in their parlor listening to the player piano with Verle pretending to play the tunes.

Roy bent over and whispered to Mae. “Looks like we have a new musician in the family.”

Mae laughed, “Yes, even though he can’t carry a simple tune.”

On Sunday as they got ready to leave his mother-in-law handed him a basket. “Mind you handle this with care. I put a dozen eggs inside, the hens have been laying more than we can use this week and I also put in a pitcher of milk and a freshly baked bread.”

The next morning, they enjoyed scrambled eggs and toast slathered with fresh berry preserves.

“May I be excused?”  asked Verle as he wiped the jam from his lips.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry? “ Roy asked,

“The guys are going to have a baseball game and I don’t want to be late.”

“Well, then by all means be off with you. Mae if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take my coffee out to the porch and enjoy the fresh air while I read the paper.”

“Go ahead. Iva and I will do the dishes then we’ll make some pies with the berries we picked on Friday.”

Roy stepped out onto the porch and settled himself upon the wooden rocker he’d made. Across the road from the store, he could hear the Salvation Army setting up their band in the Hobo camp.

A bit later Mae wiping her hands on her apron came out. “Mind if I join you. Iva says she can handle the pie making by herself.”

“It would be my pleasure,” said Roy as the sounds of “Onward Christian Soldier” began to drift a cross the road.

“I see were being serenaded again”

“Ah yes,” said Roy. “I don’t know why they bother the men never pay any attention to them.”

Mae took a sip of her coffee.” I thought we’d take the pies to this evening’s neighborhood potluck.”

“Just so long as you leave some extra pieces at home for me and Verle.”

 There was nothing he or his son loved more than berry pie.

The neighborhood had taken to holding potlucks every Sunday night. Nothing fancy everyone brought whatever they could contribute and the men pooled their money together to buy some wieners to roast over a bonfire. The tough times seemed easier when they were shared.

He and his son took in baseball games whenever they could. Iva had become a teenager.

 One morning Mae informed him. “Iva is going to go get herself a perm today with some of the money she’s earned.”

Roy frowned, “What’s wrong with her hair the way nature made it.”

“Oh Roy, every girl wants curls. So no matter what you think when you see her this evening, say something nice. She’s sure she’ll be the cats meow.”

Roy kissed his wife on the head. “Don’t worry, I will be sure to tell her she’s beautiful just like her mother.”

On Friday November 10th, 1933 Roy came home early in the afternoon after delivering a cord of wood to a neighbor. He found Mae leaning back in the chair, wheezing.

 He sat down in front of his wife; her wheezing breaths were coming in short gasps. “How long has this been going on?”

“Not long, could you see if there’s any belladonna left in the cupboard.”

He rummaged around the cupboard and found some shoved in the back. He returned to Mae’s side who continued, wheezing in short, strained gasps.

“Try to keep your breath regular. Remember in for five and out for five, come on breathe in 1, 2,3, 4, 5. Now out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.”

As her labored wheezing continued his mind raced ahead. What would he do if she turned blue or lost consciousness?”

 I’m getting the doctor,” said Roy.

“No, she whimpered, we can’t afford it.”

“Yes,” said Roy, “you need his help. I’ll be right back.”

He ran over to the store as fast as his legs would carry him. “Call doctor for me. Mae’s having a bad asthma attack.”

He raced home. Inside the house, he dropped to her side. “Come on Mae, come on, take some deep breaths in for five and out for five. You can do it, you’re doing well.”

Despite his calm reassurance her breaths grew torturous, with each inhalation, it was as if she was at war with herself. The seconds crawled by until the doctor arrived it was as if time had stood still.

The doctor when he arrived dropped to her side.”How long as this been going on?”

“I’m not sure. I found her wheezing when I got home about an hour ago. But it’s getting worse.”

After listening to her heart and lungs the doctor hung the stethoscope around his neck. “Help me move her into the bed. I’m going to give her a shot of morphine.”

After the shot Mae’s breathing started to ease. A sense of relief flooded his body but then he realized she wasn’t breathing at all. The doctor grabbed his stethoscope and put the round metal end on her chest.

His face grew graven. He took the ends out of his ears shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. She’s gone.”

“No,” moaned Roy, as his own heart raced. “It can’t be. She can’t be gone.”

“I thought her heart would be strong enough for the morphine. There’s nothing else I can do. You have my deepest condolences. I will step out and leave you alone to say your good-byes”.

Tears streamed down Roy’s face as he accompanied the doctor to the door. “I’m afraid I can’t pay you.”

“Don’t even think of it, there is no need to pay.” He patted Roy on the shoulder. “I have no words to tell you sorry I am for your loss. I’ll let the folks over at the store notify your family for you.”

 Roy went back to the bedroom where Mae lay. She looked so peaceful. He laid his head down on her chest and sobbed. “How am I ever to go on without you?”

 It wasn’t supposed to end like this. She was only thirty-seven, she had so much more life to live. Why at 48 he was the older one. They were meant to grow old together, watch their children graduate, get married and play with the grandchildren sure to come.

“Oh, Mae,” he sobbed. “There will never be another for me. You were my one and only love, of this you can be sure.”

When no more tears would come he wiped his eyes and stood. Shaking and feeling lost he glanced at the clock. The children would be home from school soon. They couldn’t find him like this, he had to be strong when he told them their mother had passed. He walked into the front room and closed the bedroom door behind him.

He had never felt so alone in all his life.

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Authors Notes:

  1. Information about the rented farm and player piano came from my Dad’s writings and reminisces he shared with me. As did the info about the Sunday neighborhood potlucks.
  2. A note Mae wrote to her mother described Iva getting a perm for the first time.
  3. Info about Mae’s death came from things my grandfather said along with his children’s memories of that day. He death certificate verified the info.

Chapter 22-The Life and Times of William Roy Caple-The 1920’s

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Although he missed his dad the year 1921 went by in a happy blur. He found time to install an indoor bathroom. The fruit trees were growing and had even bore a bit of fruit.

The following spring Mae’s parents and sibling moved into a house near theirs deciding to make Puyallup their permanent home. Her dad found work as a janitor at the WSU farm.

On August 30th of 1922, a baby boy joined the family. His birth overjoyed them. With a girl and a boy, they had the perfect family. They named him Roger Verle, but he soon became known as just Verle.

A few months later Mae developed a high fever, cough, and rash. Roy summoned her mother to check on her.

“Looks like she has measles,” she said. “She never had them as a child.”

She recovered, but the persistent cough continued. He grew concerned when in addition to the cough she sometimes wheezed.

“Perhaps you should go see Dr. Clay.” he suggested.

“Roy don’t worry so about me. You know coughs can linger for quite some time. I just need a little more time to recover.”

One day shortly after that conversation he came home from work to find their front door ajar. Inside he heard a voice say, “breath in through the nose and out through the mouth. That’s it, easy now.”

He pushed open the door. Mae sat upright in a dining chair her eyes closed, beads of sweat sat on her forehead, her chest quivered. Beside her sat Dr. Clay listening to her lungs through his stethoscope. Nearby hovered her mother.

“What’s happened?” asked Roy.

The doctor looked up and removed his stethoscope from Mae’s chest. “She’s had a bad asthma attack. But you can relax the worst is over.”

“Asthma,” stammered Roy.

“Yes, “said Dr. Clay. “I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do for it. There are some home remedies that might work. Often a strong cup of coffee or holding one’s head over a steaming bowl of hot water supplies relief or warm flannels to the chest when breathing grows labored. I’ll give you some belladonna powders, if you have a particularly horrific attack, you can burn it. Many find it brings relief.”

He scribbled out a bill and handed it to Roy. “Try to have her avoid stress. You can expect more episodes. It’s best to stay calm and let them pass. If they seem to get out of hand give me a call.”

Roy went to Mae’s side and took her hand. “How are you doing?”

“Better, but I got so scared, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Thank goodness, Mama was here when it happened.”

“Were you doing anything stressful?”

“No, I had put Verle and Iva down for their naps. Mama and I sat down to visit and relax over a cup of tea and suddenly it felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

He looked at his mother-in-law.

“She gave me quite a scare. I summoned your mother and the doctor. When he arrived, your mother took the children next door.”   

Asthma would be a cloud over their head from then ever after. Roy was grateful that the children had two loving grandmothers and a grandfather close by to help when things were too much for his wife. She had periods of time when she’d be quite well. But just when he thought the asthma attacks were over, she’d wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air.

She’d say, “Roy don’t get up, you have work in the morning. I’ll just make myself a strong cup of coffee and sit in the rocker for bit.”

Often that was enough. He grew to dread the smell of belladonna burning. It meant her breathing hadn’t eased.

He’d get up and gently rub her shoulders, “breathe in for five, that’s it, now breathe out for five,” until her breathing eased.

If he noticed her lips turning blue, he knew she wasn’t getting enough oxygen and he summoned the doctor.

In between attacks they lived life much as ordinary families did. Each spring he tilled the earth for her to plant a garden full of vegetables and flowers. They took joy in watching their children grow.

He continued to strive to learn and better himself by reading and when he could afford it take correspondence courses. And he continued to love building things.

When he told Mae he’d always wanted to build a log cabin. She suggested he build a small one the children could play in. It took him a while to find, cut and haul enough logs just the right size.

The children eagerly watched him as he built it.

  “When will it be done, Daddy,” said Iva.” I want to play in it tomorrow.”

“Now Iva,” said his wife, “let your father rest. He’s already put in a hard day’s work. He will finish it in due time.”

He took the windows out of an old, discarded car and gave the cabin two windows. Mae made red checkered curtains for it, which reminded him of the ones his mother had made long ago. He installed a small bed and built a little table and chairs. Wooden apple crates became shelves and a wooden grape basket supplied a crib for Iva’s dolls. The children were elated with it.

Next, he built a small house on the property, to house his in-laws.

The summer of 1927 he got a job as the fire watchman for a logging camp. It meant he needed to be on site 24 hours a day five days a week.

“Mae,” he said. “How would you and the children like to come with me and spend the summer in the woods. You haven’t had a breathing spell in a long while.”

“I’d love it, it would be good for the children to get out in nature more.”

He put up a large tent up for them to sleep in. He split cedar for shakes and built a lean-to of them for Mae to cook in.

When the logging crew went back to camp each evening, they would have the woods to themselves. They picked berries which Mae canned or made into jam. Every weekend they’d load up the Model -t and make the 16-mile trek back to Puyallup. Mae would get the washing done and they’d stock up on the needed groceries for the next week.

Iva and Verle about 1926

That fall and winter Mae had so many bad asthmas attacks he feared for her life.

“The only thing I can suggest,” the doctor said, “is to move to high dry climate.”

He hated the thought of moving. Iva had started school and Verle would be ready for first grade the coming year. He didn’t want them to have a childhood full of moves, as he’d had. Puyallup had been his home now for most of the last 25 years. But he loved his wife too much not to consider the doctor’s suggestion.

During the winter of 1928 one of the loggers, he worked with said, “I heard of new logging camp starting  up high in the Blue Mountains of Oregon.

 “Really”, Roy said. “My wife’s doctor said a high dry climate might be best for her. Thanks for the tip I am  going to look into working there.”

 When he suggested it to Mae she said, “Roy, I don’t know. Our roots are here in Puyallup. We both agreed we didn’t want our children to move around the way you and I did.”

“I know, but your health is also important for them.”

“But we don’t know if it will even help. I’d hate to leave this house behind only to find we should have stayed put.”

“What if we went to try it out for the summer?”  “Your parents could look out for our place  here. If we like it in Oregon we can sell the place later, if not we’ll come back.”

“I guess we could try that.”

He spent his spare time the rest of the winter building a cupboard to fit the running board of their Model T Ford to accommodate the staples they needed on the long camping trip it would take to get to Kinzou, Oregon. They left as soon as the school year ended. He got a job unloading the bricks from the railroad for the new buildings being built.

While the new town of Kinzou provided a high, dry climate it was also dusty. Many a day he’d come home to find Mae coughing and wheezing. One hot, dry evening as they relaxed outside, he heard her begin to wheeze.

“Roy,” she said, I’m having trouble breathing.”

 He got her a strong cup of coffee. “Sip it slow and remember to breathe in five and out five.”

 The wheezing continued.

 “Roy, can you get me the belladonna.”

 He rummaged inside the lean-to cupboard and took it back to where she sat. “There isn’t much left but I will light what we have.”

 By now her breath was coming in short gasps. His mind raced ahead what if she got worse? What if she needed a doctor? There were none for miles around.

 Fortunately, the spell passed but he knew  they needed to leave Kinzou.

When Mae’s relatives in Yakima, WA had heard they were going to try living in a high dry, climate. Her Aunt Ann had written.

Why don’t you move to Yakima instead? The elevation might not be so high but it is warm and dry. There are plenty of jobs for Roy in the orchards.

He decided to move the family there for the rest of the summer. While he worked as a pruner in the orchards Mae had the support of a loving family to help with the children.

When he asked her if she’d consider staying there?

 She said, “Of course not, Puyallup is home, I can’t wait to go back.”

 They returned in time for the children to be back at school.

Verle age 6-1928

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Authors notes:

  1. According to my grandfather, my grandmother loved a little boy in the neighborhood named Verle, but she thought two Verles in the same area would be confusing. They decided to name my dad, Roger Verle, instead. While he was still quite young the neighbor boy moved away and my dad was ever after known as Verle.

2. My grandfather said Mae developed asthma after contracting measles while my dad was still a baby. However on her death certificate her doctor wrote the start of her asthma as occurring the year before he was born.

3. In her memories my aunt Iva wrote of how she hated the smell of belladonna burning because she knew it meant her mother was having trouble breathing.

4. The information about the log cabin playhouse came from my aunt Iva’s written memories of it and my dad’s memories. I recall when I was small and we drove down River Road in Puyallup my dad would point out a log cabin sitting in a junkyard on the side of the road and saying it was once his playhouse. My grandfather had sold it to the owner toward the end of the Great Depression for 10 dollars for use as the junk yards office.

5. Both my aunt Iva and dad spoke and wrote of the summer they spent in the woods when there dad was a fire watchman. They both remembered it with fondness.

6. Kinzou was a new logging camp in the Blue Mountains of Oregon. It never became successful and ceased to exist. Information of the town and preparation for the journey came from my aunt’s and dad’s written account of that summer. Both recalled the day my dad almost drowned when playing in the log pond. Apparently my Dad crawled on a log which rolled him under. My aunt screamed and a one-armed man pulled him out. He always said his sister saved his life that day for if she hadn’t screamed for help he would have drowned.

7. According to my dad the place in Yakima where Mae’s relatives lived was quite isolated. He recalled that even in the days of cars they would have to send a horse and wagon out to collect them whenever they visited.

Chapter 19- The Life and Times of William Roy Caple -1918 – Puyallup, Influenza and War Ends

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Roy’s sister Lida

As the train pulled into the station in Puyallup, Roy spotted his parents waiting on the platform. He and Mae gathered their bundles and made their way down the aisle to the door. A porter helped them get their baggage onto the platform.

Roy’s mother threw her arms around Roy. “You do not know how good it is to see you again.” She kissed Mae’s cheek, “And you too, your family now.”

Roy’s Dad stepped forward and shook Roy’s hand. “Good to have you home, son. He tipped his head toward Mae. “Glad you finally brought that girl of yours back to Puyallup. I brought my delivery truck to collect your baggage. It’ll be a might crowded, but I expect we can all squeeze into the cab.”

As they drove down Main Street. American flags fluttered and red, white, and blue buntings hung from all the buildings in support the war in Europe.

 “Sure, wish they’d get that mess in Europe done with,” said Roy. “If you ask me, it should never have started and we should have stayed out of it.”

His father steered his truck around a corner. “I have to agree with your son, I’m proud of my service in the War Between the States, but this war is a horse of a different color. I fear nothing good will come of it.”    

His sister, Lida, and her husband George were out on the porch when his dad jerked the delivery truck to a halt in front of the house.

Roy gazed at the big white house before making a move to get out of the truck. “I’ve missed this place, it’s good to be home again.”

Lida hugged both Mae and Roy. “You don’t know how much I have missed both of you.

Roy took a step back. In his 2 years away, she’d changed from a girl to a beautiful young woman. He stretched his hand out to the dark- haired man standing next to her. “You must be my brother-in-law”

 “That I am, George McKay.” He offered his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Roy chuckled. “Nothing good, I imagine. Would mind giving me a hand unloading our baggage.”

Over dinner, Roy reached for Mae’s hand. “We have an announcement to make, we’re expecting a little bundle of joy.”

“Oh, wonderful,” said Lida. “I can’t wait until we have a child of our own.” 

“I knew it.” said his mother, “the minute I saw Mae. She is positively glowing. Now we’ll have two grandchildren. Joe’s little guy is such a cutie. When can we expect this little bundle?”

Mae blushed, “Not for a while, mid-December I think.”

“How nice, another December birthday. Robert, Joe’s boy turns two in December.”

“I can’t wait to meet him and Joe’s wife,” said Mae.

Roy’s mother stood up to clear the table, “Hopefully they will be by Sunday, since they moved to South Prairie, I don’t see nearly enough of him.”

Roy and Mae spent the next few days with his parents. They agreed three families in one house were too much. They obtained some rooms at the nearby Scott hotel to live in until he got their house built on the lot next to his parent’s home. He found a job in Tacoma working as a shipwright for the Wright ship building company.

He bought plans for a craftsman bungalow, a style becoming popular. He purchased a large tool chest of the tools he’d need from a retired carpenter. Every spare moment he had that summer he spent working on their house. He wanted it ready to move in before the baby arrived. His brother-in-law, George, came over and gave him a hand whenever he could. Roy found he enjoyed the man’s company. And Lida and his wife picked up their friendship as if there had been no six-year interruption. The two couples enjoyed going on outings together.

News of the war in Europe continued to make headlines. Roy was not happy when a third draft required all men up to age 45 to register. The first draft had been up to age 31, and he had escaped it by a year, but now at age 33 he would have to register.

On September 18th, he took the interurban bus to Tacoma. With a heaviness in his heart, he got off on Pacific Avenue, walked to the tall Bank of California building. He stared at the door as he rode the elevator to the third floor and found room 302. He’d considered applying as a conscientious objector.

Chuck at the shipyard said, “Roy if I were you, I wouldn’t do it. I’ve heard of too many cases where you get drafted into the regular military pronto. Besides, I doubt they will ever draft guys your age, anyway.”

Roy hoped so, besides not wanting to leave Mae and their soon to be born baby, he wanted no part of killing in this war.

 That fall news of war continued to make headlines as well as reports of a nasty flu in Europe and parts of U.S. But in Puyallup, Washington, it was a distant problem.

On October 5th Roy picked up a copy of the Tacoma paper while he waited for the bus. Once seated he unfolded the newspaper. The headline at the bottom of the front page caught his eye.

 “Flu scares in Seattle.”

The article stated churches and theaters had closed. He pointed the story out to the man seated next to him. “That’s getting close to us.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said the man. “We’re safe here, haven’t heard of a single in Tacoma or Puyallup.”

“You’re probably right,” said Roy.

But when he opened to another page, he found another disturbing headline ‘Fluenza Rumors officially Denied’ said an article about Camp Lewis.

Over dinner that night, “He read the front-page article aloud to Mae.

“Goodness,” she said, “that doesn’t sound good. I’m glad we’re young and healthy. Maybe we should suggest to your parents that stay close to home for the time being.”

Roy closed up the paper. “That’s not a bad idea, but you know Dad. He likes to keep busy supervising his transport business.”

Mae dabbed her mouth on a napkin, “And with Lida and George going out daily, I suppose it doesn’t help much having them stay home. Besides, I haven’t heard of any flu cases here.”

On the 7th of October, the Puyallup Tribune mentioned there were a few cases in town. The schools and theaters closed indefinitely as a precaution. People were encouraged to not meet in large groups and to keep ‘rooms fumigated daily.’ Mask wearing became  common though not required in Puyallup. Nearby Tacoma required masks for all waiters, cooks, barbers, and city employees. Quarantine signs appeared on houses. Roy noticed one on the door of a sweet older woman who lived a couple of blocks from his home.

“Poor woman,” he remarked to his wife, “she isn’t in good health, this flu will do her in.”

 Only to hear a week later she’d recovered, but her strong healthy logger son had died within 3 days.

 A neighbor told him, “He seemed better and got up to eat dinner with the family and died later that night. The newspaper reported that four of the six young adult children of the George family died within four days of each other while the parents remained well.

Roy worried about Mae. She was due to give birth in a mere six weeks. Had he made a mistake moving to Puyallup.

A letter from Mae’s family arrived. That evening she read it aloud to him.

Such awful news about the flu, her mother wrote. We’ve had a few cases in Belle Fourche, but it’s hit Lead hard. So many miners are ill and too many deaths. I am thankful you aren’t there any longer.

Mae folded the latter up. “No one seems to be spared, this flu is everywhere.”

Just after midnight on November 11th, the loud continuous whistle of the town’s cannery roused Roy from a deep sleep. He rolled over and whispered, “Do you hear that.”

“Yes,” said Mae. “I wonder what it means.”

Minutes later, all the whistles and bells began to ring. From the hallway outside their rooms someone shouted, “The war has ended.”

Soon the hallways of the Scott hotel filled with the noise of cheering and noise makers.

Sleep was impossible, so Roy and Mae hastily dressed and went out to join the rest of the revelers. Out on the street, pedestrians carried flags and every kind of noise maker available. Cars joined the group on Pioneer Avenue, beeping their horns. Roy and Mae made their way toward his parents’ home a short 2 blocks away. On the way, they ran into Lida and George.

Lida threw her arms around Roy, “Isn’t it wonderful, the war is over. We’re joining the crowd headed to town. Won’t you join us.”

Roy looked at his wife, heavy with child. “I think we’d better pass.”

They found his parents on their covered porch beating pots in celebration and went up to join them.

His Mother hugged him. “This is the best news, now I don’t have to worry about any of my boys getting drafted.”

After most of the crowd in front of the house had headed for the downtown area. Roy and Mae went back to their rooms at the Scott Hotel to catch a nap before he had to head to work.

After breakfast, Roy kissed his wife. “Don’t get up I can see myself to the door. He patted her round belly. You two try to find some time for more sleep.”

He walked to his bus stop amidst all the wild cheering still going on. The bus arrived full of men waving flags out the window and creating a ruckus of noise. Instead of work, many headed to celebrate in downtown Tacoma.

Not a lot of work went on at the shipyard that day. The ship workers spent much of the day pounding on anything that would make a booming sound, joining the mill workers who in turned pounded on large logs. The busy harbor filled with boats, small and large, blasting their horns and whistles as if to say peace at last the war has ended. Everywhere folks were happy and celebrating.

Children in Puyallup celebrating the end of WWI

Mae greeted him at the door at the end of the day and gave him a big smooch on the lips, “Hasn’t today been the best day. Did you see any of the celebrating in Tacoma?”

Roy hung his coat on the coat tree next to the door. I saw little of the city, but I can tell you there was plenty of celebrating going on at the port. He patted her protruding tummy; I hope you two got a chance to nap.

Mae patted her tummy, “I caught a catnap or two but his little one has been kicking all day. I guess he or she wanted to celebrate, too.”

After Roy washed and changed his clothes, he sat down for the dinner Mae had prepared.

She poured him a cup of coffee. “I hear there’s going to be an enormous bonfire in front of Victory Hall tonight. Appears folks can’t quit celebrating.”

“I can’t blame them,” said Roy taking a bite of the stew she’d prepared. “But I for one am bushed, it’s early to bed for me.”

School reopened in Puyallup on November 16th. The nasty business with the flu also seemed to end with the war. Although isolated cases in Puyallup would continue to occur for the next year, life went back to normal.

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Authors notes: specifics on Roy’s registration for the draft came from his draft registration. Interestingly enough the room he had to report in the Bank of California building was the same room my husband registered for the Viet Nam War draft. He often mentioned that he had opposed this war and that he had considered being a conscientious objector should he be called for service.

Information on the deadly Influenza outbreak of 1918 came from old Tacoma and Puyallup newspapers as did the information on how the town celebrated the ending of World War I. My grandfather also spoke of how older people he thought would die from the illness lived while the healthy younger ones did not.

Chapter 16- The Life and Times of William Roy Caple -Roy Moves to Wyoming

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Roy Caple is the logger on the right

For the next 2 years Roy continued to write to his Wyoming girl. At the end of the 1914 logging season, he once again went to spend the winter break in Wyoming. He had been saddened when his parents had decided to move to Missouri to be close to his mother’s family. He considered moving with them but he liked Puyallup. Maybe he could buy his parent’s home, he thought. He was thankful when they decided to make the trip a visit rather than a permanent move.

His parents were getting older and particularly his father was showing his age. He preferred they lived close so he and his brothers could look after them. His brother Joe married at the end of 1914. Sometimes both his brothers joined him for a time in the logging camp. Their presence kept him from feeling lonely for family, especially when Richard was there as he would often serenade, he and Gus in   the evenings with his violin playing. He continued to care for his raspberry field. But at the end of the season in 1915 decided to let the field go. His dad could use the income selling the property would yield. Roy purchased the lot next to his parents house from his dad in hopes he could some day build his forever home on it.

By the fall of 1915 logging wages were low. Rumbles of discontent filled the air. Men in all sorts of work talked of striking and forming unions. Roy preferred to  avoid conflict if I could be avoided.

Thoughts of Mae continued to occupy his days. Her parents were having a tough time making a living off their homestead property. They both hoped her parents would decide to sell the property and join their family in the Puyallup area. Instead, they moved from their ranch to Belle Fourche to run a boarding house.

In November a logging operation in Spearfish, South Dakota, where he’d inquired about work the previous winter, wrote, and said they were looking for loggers, if he was interested.

As much as he hated to leave his family and friends in Puyallup, he needed to be closer to Mae. He made the difficult decision move to South Dakota. He’d hang on to the lot of land he had purchased from his father. He still hoped to one day return, build his Wyoming girl her dream home, where together they’d raise a family and grow old. In the meantime, he’d cast his lot in South Dakota.

On a chilly day in early December, he stood with his parents waiting beside the tracks to board a train headed to the Black Hills.

His mother wiped tears from her eyes, “Please give the Phillips our regards, especially Mae. And bundle up, it get’s so cold there.”

He gave his mother a gentle hug. “Don’t worry I remember the cold we got in Oklahoma. And don’t forget I have already spent the better part of two winters there.”

His father reached out his hand to shake and then thought better and gave him a hug. “Son, please tell me you will bring that girl of yours back for at least a visit if not to live. This isn’t good-bye it’s just adios until we see each other again. Soon, I hope.”

Logging in Spearfish allowed him to see Mae on weekends. In December of 1916 he left his Spearfish logging camp and arrived in Belle Fourche and took a room in the hotel. After he deposited his bag and gave himself a shave. He descended the stairs out to the street whistling Jingle Bells in anticipation of seeing Mae in a few minutes.

On arrival Mae flung open the door. He read the look of alarm on her face. His gut felt sucker punched..

He reached for her hand. “What is it?

She handed him a telegram.

“This arrived this morning from your mother.”

His heart started to palpitate as he took it from her hands. Something happened to my father, or it’s one of my brothers. His hands trembled as he opened it.

 Mr. Cook killed yesterday in accident. Planning for his burial in Sumner. Details will follow in a letter. Mother and Dad.

Mae took one look at his blanched face. “Its sad news isn’t it. Is it your father?”

“No,” he said, “It’s Gus, he’s dead.”

“Oh no,” said Mae. “He’s so young. Here sit down, this is such a shock. Does it say what happened?”

Roy shook his head. “No just it was an accident that occurred yesterday. I am in shock.”

“Let me get you some tea”

“No, I don’t need want any. I’m sorry I don’t think I want to go out for dinner , I need to be alone for a bit and get some air.”

“It’s alright,” she said softly. “I understand. But please come back in a bit and let me know you’re okay.”

“I will.”

He got up to leave. He walked down the steps of their boarding house not sure where he was headed. He walked aimlessly for the next hour. Gus who’d been so full of life. His falling partner, an orphaned kid from Sweden who’d come to make his fortune in America. His life snuffed out too soon. He wondered if a tree he’d been falling had taken him. He’d seen other men lose their life that way. It wasn’t an image he wanted of Gus. No, he’d remember him the way he’d been when he’d left the logging camp in November. Full of life and plans for a future on a piece of land he’d recently purchased. He shook his head wondering if he’d be dead too if he’d been working with him yesterday. Or could he have done something to save him? Just like the day he lost his big brother, in an instant life is gone. He took a gulp of fresh air. There was only one place he wanted to be right now. That was in the arms of his sweetheart. He looked around, he wandered around a bit and was now over by the town stockyards. He turned left and headed back for the Phillips boarding house. He knew Mae would be there anxiously waiting for his return.

A few days later Roy received a letter from his mother with the details of Gus’ death.

October 10, 1916,

Dear Roy,

Your father and I have just returned from laying Gus to rest. We buried him in the Sumner cemetery. I know you must wonder what happened. From what we were told by the loggers who accompanied his body to town, a large limb fell unexpectedly from a tree, breaking his neck and crushing his skull instantly. You can take comfort in knowing his death was instantaneous.

I am told his will leaves you as sole heir. I have enclosed the address for the attorney, taking care of his matters. He asks that you write immediately so the probate can be closed. Your presence in town will not be necessary, he can take care of the matter by mail.

Roy folded the letter in half. And took a deep breath of air. So it was a “widow maker,” the name his fellow loggers gave to the giant limbs that storms left lodged in the tree canopy until one day something set them flying from the tree. One could run from a falling tree, but if you didn’t see one of those coming, they were impossible to escape.

It didn’t surprise him Gus had left him the heir of his will, but it was sad he had so few to mourn his loss.

Gus Cook

Logging in South Dakota provided even lower wages than Roy had been earning in Washington. No matter how careful he was with his money, he’d never be able to support a family on it. Working in Lead at the Home Stake mine seemed to be the only alternative. Faced between choosing to work in the mine or leaving Mae behind, he chose the mine. It would  be another year before Mae turned twenty-one. Though they’d talked of marrying anyway, Roy was a man of his word.

“Mae I promised you Father I’d wait until your twenty-one before asking for you hand in marriage. Some cowboy might still come along and sweep you off your feet.”

She laughed, “Fat chance of that. I only have eyes for you.”      

Author’s notes:

[i] Gus Cook was a real person and my grandfather’s falling partner. His death certificate confirms the date of death and that he was killed by a falling limb giving him a crushed skull and broken neck. Roy’s mother Margaret Caple was listed on his death certificate as person giving his date of birth, place, etc. It stated he had no known family. He is buried in the Sumner cemetery, Pierce County, Washington. Roy inherited the piece of land he had recently purchased just outside of Puyallup city limits.

Chapter 14-The Life and Times of William Roy Caple- Thanksgiving 1912

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Photo by Monstera on Pexels.com

Four days before Thanksgiving, Roy headed home. An early cold snap had closed the logging camp down for the winter. He’d miss making a little more money for the year, but he welcomed the chance to relax in his parents’ cozy house.

On his first morning home as he stood on his parent’s porch and spotted Mae out walking. He sprang down the steps and scurried over to her side. “Would you mind a little company as you walk?”

She tilted her head demurely. “Not at all.”

At the next block they headed west on Pioneer. As Spinning school came into sight Mae stopped in front of the handsome, two-story, brick building.

 “It’s quite a school compared the one room one I attended. Did you go there?”

“I did though not continuously. I went for first grade and finished with the seventh and eighth grade. In between, we were mostly in Oklahoma. School there only went for three months a year, mostly in the winter, consequently it took me forever to finish.”  

Mae nodded. I can understand that in Wyoming winters were often too cold, so we often didn’t finish our school term into well into summer.”

Where in Wyoming?” Roy asked as they began to walk again.

“A little place called Mona,” said Mae.” It’s in the Black Hills in an area called the Bear Mountains. I guess Aladdin would be the nearest place you’d be likely to find on a map.”

I am a bit familiar with the Black Hills, said Roy, your place must be near the South Dakota borderline.”

Yes, in fact we got most of our supplies there.”

“Did your dad ranch?”

“Yes, he came there as a homesteader with my grandparents and his many aunts and uncles. He still owns the place but he’s renting it now to my cousin.”

“Ahh,” said Roy, “that’s something we have in common as my dad homesteaded too, in Kansas where I was born, and then in Oklahoma.”

At Main Street they headed north toward the fairgrounds. They strolled past the big, white, wooden roller coaster.

Roy gazed at the structure. “Did you get s chance to go to the fair in September?”

Mae nodded, “Lillian and I went, but we chickened out of riding this roller coaster.”

“That’s a shame,” said Roy. “I’ve ridden it. It’s quite a thrill.”

“If I’d a handsome hunk like you to protect me, I might have gone. We did ride the merry- go- round. If you’d been along, we could have ridden double. I miss my horse.”

“The merry-go-round horse,” he teased.

Mae’s eyes crinkled in laughter. “No, my real l horse. The one I left in Wyoming. I hope my cousin is taking good care of Drummer.”

 Roy  nodded. “I had a horse when we lived in Oklahoma. Nowadays I am quite content to walk or catch a train.”

They turned around to walk back toward home. A car beeped its’ horn at them as they crossed the street.

 “You never see automobiles where we live in the Black Hills.” said Mae.

“Didn’t see them here either until a few years ago when Doc Kushner bought one. He nodded to the showroom window they passed, full of new cars. “Times are a changing, that’s for sure.”

When they walked back down their block for home, Roy asked. How would you like to join me for a movie in town tomorrow? I’ll ask Lida along so we’ll be chaperoned.”

“I’d love to,” she said.

“Great, I’ll find out what time it’s playing let you know later today,”

He watched her as she climbed the scant steps to her porch. When she reached the door, she turned and waved, sending his heart into flip flops. Justin is right, maturity matters more than age.

They had the best time going to the movie. Lida and Hazel bounced ahead of them as they walked to town, leaving him and Mae to carry on a conversation without them. Afterwards, he’d treated them to chicken dinner at the diner.

Thanksgiving morning, the sun peeking through the windows awakened him. Reluctant to get out of his warm bed, he yawned and stretched. Logging camp never allowed him the luxury of sleeping in. Below him he heard his mother and sister bustling in the kitchen. His stomach growled thinking of the feast awaiting him later. He could hardly wait, well, that and the fact that Mae would be there.

 He forced himself to crawl out of his cozy, warm bed. Throwing on his overcoat he made a bee line to the necessary house out back and back up the stairs where he splashed the chilly water from the pitcher on his face and pulled from the closet his best suit of clothes. Once dressed he headed back down the stairs. The scent of turkey roasting mingled with spices and the yeasty smell of bread rising accosted his nose on entering the kitchen.

His mother looked up from the pot she stirred. “I’m glad you slept in; you work too hard in the woods.” She nodded toward the dining nook in the corner. “I left a light breakfast on the table for you, everyone else has eaten. Help yourself to coffee.”

Roy took a cup from the cupboard and filled it from the coffee pot simmering on the stove. Careful not to spill, he carried it over to the nook and settled himself on the bench beside the table. He reached for the bread, jam, and fruit his mother had left for him. “Who all will be here for dinner?”

His mother wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, there’s your dad and I, you boys and Lida, Aunt Ida, and the Phillips family. So, the answer is twelve.”

Roy finished eating and took his plate and cup to the to the sink.

“Do you need me to help?”

She pointed to the cupboards. Your father and brothers have gone to fetch Aunt Ida so I could use someone to get my good china down.”

Roy carried the china to the dining room table covered in a freshly ironed white, embroidered tablecloth.

“Anything else you’d like me to do?”

“No, that’s it for now. Why don’t you work up an appetite by going for a walk?”

Roy rubbed his stomach. “Not needed; the smell of that turkey roasting is driving me wild. But I can tell when I am not wanted and walk does sound nice.”   

Grabbing his hat and over coat from the hook in the front foyer he headed down the front steps. He felt disappointed when he saw no one out on the street. He’d prefer to have someone to walk with especially if it we’re Mae. He headed over to the Henry’s and found Justin and Lillian in her yard. He joined them in conversation.

After a while he looked at his pocket watch. “Goodness look at the time. I’d better be off for home. Mother will throttle me if I am late for her dinner. “   

As he approached the house, he spotted Lida in the parlor window. She opened the front door. “It’s about time you got home. Our guests have arrived and you’ve been sauntering around town.”

 “Sorry,” he said, “I lost track of time.”

Hanging up his overcoat and hat on the coat tree, he stepped into the parlor where his dad, brothers, and Mr. Phillips sat conversing.

 “Spotted you talking to Justin and Lillian.” said his father, “I imagine they caught you up on all the latest news.”

Roy nodded, finding a place to sit. “Sorry, I’m the last one here.”

 “Your Father was just telling us about his time in Andersonville prison,” said Mr. Phillips. “It’s a wonder he survived.

“Well, I for one am glad he did,” said Roy.

His brother Richard laughed. “We wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t.”

Mr. Phillips smiled, “I guess not. Your brothers were telling me they had a good year harvesting the wheat and apple crops east of the mountains. Still finding plenty of trees to cut down, are you?”

Roy shifted in his chair, “Don’t suppose they’ll ever run out of enormous trees.”

Mr. Phillips nodded. “They’re sure bigger than the timber we have in the Black Hills. I hear they feed you well out in those woods.”

“True,” said Roy. “But our cook quit in September. Another logger agreed to take the job but only until someone complained.”

“Goodness how did that work out?” asked Mae walking into the room.

“He’d been a cook before, so he did okay.”

“Did anyone complain?” asked Mae.

“No, but one day, but he got tired of cooking so added a box full of salt to the soup. One of the men took a taste and said, “My, this soup is salty.”

Then he remembered the complaining rule and added, “Just the way I like it.”

Laughter filled the room.

“Oh my, she said that is funny. Did he quit?” asked Mae

“No, but they soon found us a new cook.”

 Mae clapped her hands. “I almost forgot I’m supposed to say dinner is ready.”

Roy jumped from his chair to be the first to follow Mae into the dining room. A large roasted turkey sat at the head of the table while steam rose off dishes of yams, mashed potatoes, beans, and cornbread stuffing.

Roy pulled out a chair for Mae “Allow me.”

“Thank you,” she said as she sat.

She patted the chair next to her. “And please take this one next to me.”

Roy wasted no time in doing so.

After everyone took their seats his mother bowed her head, “let us give thanks.”

Everyone bowed their heads in thanksgiving.

Raising her head back up, his mother handed his dad the carving knife. “Let the feasting begin.”

His dad began to carve the turkey as the other savory dishes were passed around. Soon heaps of turkey dressing, mashed potatoes, beans, rolls, and salad sat on everyone’s plate.

Roy swallowed a bit of mashed potatoes and turned to Mae. “Would you like to accompany me to the new movie starting Saturday? Hazel could go too.”

“I can’t speak for her,” said Mae, “but I’d love to go.”

______________________________________________________________________________________

Author’s notes: 

Both of my grandparents made references to this special Thanksgiving dinner in 1912 in their letters to each other. Also they referenced going out to movies and for meals together.

According to my grandfather his dad often referred to his experiences in Andersonville prison during the civil war.

The story of the salt in the soup was a favorite my grandfather told of his logging experiences.

The first car in Puyallup was owned by Doc Kushner according to Puyallup history.

Chapter 12-The Life And Times of William Roy Caple-Meeting Mae

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Mae is the woman second from the left. The girl with the big bow is her sister Hazel The man on the right is my grandfather Roy and Daniel the boy standing next to him is her brother.The other women are Mae’s aunts. The photo was taken in Puyallup in 1912. The owner of the house they are standing in front of is unknown.

At the start of 1912, Roy was 26 years old. He’d yet to meet a girl he cared enough about to marry. Not that there was much chance of meeting a girl in a logging camp.

From time to time, he’d attended the dances the camp held. A dancer he was not. The legs, which kept him out of harm’s way in the woods, turned to mush when he tried to dance.

He’d learned to read the sounds of the woods. Every ping, chug or whistle he heard meant something different. He’d grown accustomed to the steady sawing sound the buckers made cutting limbs from the giant trees into logs that would fit on trains. Daily he experienced the shattering sounds of mighty trees as they fell to the ground.

Besides the logging, he ran a raspberry field on some of his father’s acreage. It was a small operation; one he could manage himself with the help of a few hired pickers at harvest.

He’d toyed with the idea of buying enough land to raise berries full time. But that meant taking out a mortgage and giving up the nest egg he’d saved. He’d spent his childhood being poor, he loathed the thought of borrowing money. He wanted to be debt free. So, he stuck to logging.

Now it was a Friday in late February, it was time to get his raspberry field in order for the coming growing season.

 “Timber,” yelled Roy as he leaped from his springboard.

Together he and his falling partner, Gus, watched as a tree let out one last groan, creak, and snap before it fell in a thunderous roar. It had taken them all day to topple the immense tree, but together they had gotten it done.

Gus tugged on his end of their twelve-foot crosscut saw, “bet the lumber from that one is enough to build an entire house.”

“You’re probably right,” nodded Roy. “What do you say we take this saw over to the dentist shack and head for camp.”

On the way Roy, chuckled to himself as he remembered his first day logging. He’d thought the dentist shack meant a real dentist, not someone who sharpened the blades on their saws. It hadn’t taken him long to learn that loggers had a language all their own. Now he now spoke it as well as any of them.

At the shack, he and Gus heaved the saw onto the counter. Come Monday morning its teeth would once again be razor sharp, like a hungry piranha ready to munch way its way through any tree it encountered.

“You still fixing to go home tonight?” asked Gus, as they headed for the crummy, a train car, which took the men to and from the bunkhouses to the woods.

“Can’t put if off any longer,” said Roy. “Sure you don’t want to come along and help me prune?”

Gus adjusted his spectacles. “I reckon I’ll stay put and rest. Give my regards to folks. Tell them again how much I appreciated spending the holidays with them. Sure made this orphan feel less lonesome.”

“Guess, I’d rest too, if I could,” said Roy, as the crummy jerked to a stop near the bunkhouses. “I’d better hurry if I’m going to catch the last train into town tonight.”

At the bunkhouse he washed and changed into clean clothes. Finished, he glanced at his pocket watch.

“Time for me to go,” he said to Gus. “See you Sunday night.”

The next morning Roy awakened to sun streaming through the bedroom window of his parent’s house. One eye cocked open, he squinted at the clock. “6:30 already,” he mumbled, “I’d better get a move on, I meant to be up earlier.”

He donned a clean pair of overhauls and a plaid shirt and ventured downstairs to the kitchen where his mother poured him a cup of coffee and set it on the table. “It’s nice to have you home. I miss the days when all my boys lived here. Your father is already off making deliveries. He said to tell you he left the pruning shears you need on the back porch.”

“Thanks,” said Roy, sitting down to drink the coffee. “I should’ve been off earlier, too. I really hadn’t meant to sleep so long.”

His mother buttered a piece of bread. “Did I tell you new folks have moved into the rental next door.”

“No, Tell me more.”

His mother swallowed, “They’re the nicest family, I hope they stay. They’re some relation to your friend Justin Phillips and the Henry’s. The last folks barely moved in and they left.”

“You, don’t say.” Roy gulped his coffee and scooted his chair back. “Sorry I can’t dawdle over a breakfast. I’ve got a lot of work to do before I head back to Nagrom tomorrow.”

He grabbed his jacket and hat and opened the back door. “See you at supper.”

He hunkered his chin down inside his jacket to ward off the morning chill, as he headed toward his berry field. The morning sun had risen above the foothills surrounding the valley, bathing them in a pale pink. High above rose the majestic peak of Mt. Rainer.

Roy stood at the head of his field and gazed at the view. Today Mt. Rainer looked as though it was holding court over the entire valley. I’ll never tire of this view, he thought. Sure beats flat, dusty Oklahoma. I can’t believe it’s been 11 years since we left there. Mother and Father are right, time flies. I best stop my gawking and get to work though, or I’ll never get done. 

Several hours later, engrossed in his work, a voice startled him.

“Hello, you must be one of the Caple’s sons.”

 Roy looked up from where he knelt on the ground. A tall, bald-headed man extended his hand to shake. “Name’s Alex, Phillips. And which son might you be?”

“I’m Roy, the middle son. Mother mentioned you’d move next door. She said you’re related you to my friend Justin.”

“He’s my nephew. My brother John, his dad, lives across the Narrows in Tacoma. I have a brother Herbert and Hue here in town, though.”

Roy set his pruner down. “I’m acquainted with both of them. Mother mentioned you’re also related to the Henry’s.”

Alex nodded, “We’re shirt-tail relatives. And I have two daughters and a son. Hazel, my middle one goes to school with your sister, Lida. And I mustn’t forget my wife, Mattie. Speaking of her, I’d better scoot on home or she’ll have me in the doghouse. Hope to see you again soon.”

“Might be awhile,” said Roy, “nowadays I spend more time in logging camps than home.”

He seems nice enough thought Roy as he got back to work. When the sun dropped low in the western sky, he stopped and surveyed what his work. Content with what he’d accomplished, he picked up his tools and headed for home. As he approached the house, he noticed his sister Lida stood in front with a knot of people.

He took his hat off as he passed them and bade them a “good-day.”

Lida ran over and tugged on his arm, “Wait, I want to introduce you to our new neighbors.”

She held onto his hand and led him back to the group. “This is my brother Roy.”

She pointed to a dark-haired girl with an enormous bow pinned in back. “This is Hazel, she goes to school with me.”

A freckle faced red-headed boy peeked out from behind her.

“That’s Daniel,” Lida said, “he’s kind of shy and eight.”

 She pointed to a tall, young woman on her right. “And this is their big sister.”

Roy found he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Something about her dark hair and eyes the color of melted chocolate captivated him.

 She put her hand out to shake. “How do you do, I’m Mae.”

He reached out to take her hand, then noticed how filthy his was. Swiftly he dropped it to his side. “I’m sorry I’m really not dressed for socializing. I’ve spent the day working in my raspberry field.”

She smiled at him, revealing enchanting dimples. “It’s okay, it’s nice to meet you just the same.”

 He waved his hand goodbye, “Nice to meet you, too.”

Great, he thought. Some impression I must have made in these mucky clothes. He opened the back door and stepped into the kitchen.

His Mother looked up from something she stirred on the stove. “Roy, take those muddy boots off before you take another step.”

“Sorry, Mother, I forgot I wasn’t at camp.”

He balanced on one leg and the other and shook off his boots. He headed to the sink to wash. The delicious smell of cooking vegetables and beef filled the air. “Mmm, something smells wonderful,” he said as he grabbed a bar of handmade soap and lathered his hands. “What’s for dinner?”

“Beef stew,” she said, “and because I know how much you love them – biscuits. You’ve just enough time to change into clean clothes before it’s done.”

Roy chuckled. “They aren’t that bad, are they? But I’ll change.”

“Please do,” she said, swatting the air behind him. “And don’t you get smart with me.”

Upstairs, he slid his feet into a clean pair of trousers and thought about the girl he’d just met. I sure wish I weren’t headed back to Nagrom tomorrow; I think I’d like to get to know her.

Monday afternoon found Roy and Gus standing on springboards falling another tree. Hitting a patch of sap, they stopped to clean their saw.

Gus grabbed the bottle of oil they always kept handy. While he cleaned his side of the saw, he said, “You aren’t very talkative today. I’ve barely heard a word out of you since you got back last night. You’ve got a dreamy, faraway look in your eye. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’d met a girl.”

“I have,” said Roy, reaching for the oil to clean his side of the saw.

“What!” said Gus, “Are you serious?”

“I am, and I’ll be darned if I can’t get her out of my mind.”

“Tell me about her, is she a looker?”

Roy let out a whistle, “I’d say so, tallish, slender, dark hair and the most enchanting brown eyes. Trouble is, I met her while I had my muddy work clothes on, I don’t thing I made much of an impression.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Gus. “Surely she’s seen men in work clothes before. Did you talk to her much, how old is she?”

“Well, really we didn’t talk, just a glad to meet you. As far as age goes, I’d say twenty.”

“Will you see her again?”

“I spect so her family moved into the vacant house next door.”

Gus gave his side of the saw a pull, “Sounds to me like you and I need to plan an outing to Puyallup soon.”

Roy gave his side of the saw a push. “Mother’s birthday is next month maybe I will go then.”

Chapter 11-The Life And Times of William Roy Caple-The Wild West Show

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Samuel Hugh Caple

Roy and his dad joined the throng headed for the show grounds. Several thousand folks decked out in their best dresses and suits roamed about the many tents set up outside the main arena.

They joined a group in front of a shooting demonstration. The sharpshooter lit a 12-candle candelabra. He set it on a gentleman’s head. Bang, out went a candle flame, bang out went the next and next until all were blown out.

 The crowd clapped and cheered at the end of the demo. “Don’t forget folks, you’ll see much more if you get a ticket for the main event,” said the sharpshooter.

Roy touched his father’s elbow, “What do you say, we head over to the main arena and get our seats?

iHis His father walking in front of him said, “that’s splendid idea.”

They joined the long line that snaked around the main arena. The line moved quickly and soon a, a man took their tickets, “Enjoy the show and stick around afterwards for more side shows.”

“Will do, “said Roy as he gave the ticket taker a brief wave.

The soft sound of mini booms accompanied by the buttery sweet smell of popcorn filled the air. Roy’s dad sniffed. “That smells mighty good. What you say I spring for a couple of bags.”

Roy rubbed his stomach. “Thought lunch stuffed me, but who can resist that smell.”

“Two popcorns,” said his dad to the man working the popping machine.

The man handed them each a bag, “That will be 20 cents.”  

Roy’s father handed him two dimes. Popcorn in hand, they headed for the crowded grandstand. They found their seats in the front row of wooden bleachers.

Roy leaned toward his dad, “whoa aren’t these dandy seats.”

His Dad nodded in agreement as they settled themselves.

Roy grabbed a handful of popcorn and munched as he watched all the stagehands scramble to get things set up. “Hard to believe how much stuff they bring in for one of these shows, isn’t it?”

“Yep, I read in the paper this morning, it took 48 train cars”

“Forty-eight,” repeated Roy, “that’s a lot.”

The two men grew quiet as they munched on their popcorn. Marching music filled the air as a voice over the loudspeaker announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen may I present Buffalo Bill’s Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders.”

The crowd stood and roared. “Ladies and Gentlemen please, be seated,” blared the loudspeaker as Buffalo Bill sitting tall upon his horse entered the arena.

He wore his trademarked fringed leather jacket, work gloves, felt hat and in one handheld his shotgun. The crowd let out a deafening roar as he took off his hat, held it high and circled the arena.

Roy yelled over the roar of the crowd. “I can’t believe it I am looking in person at the most famous in all the world.”

Roy’s dad leaned over closer to Roy’s ear. “When I knew him, he wasn’t famous or gray, guess I wasn’t either,” he laughed.

Buffalo Bill put his hat back on.

The loudspeaker blared, “May I present the Congress of Rough riders.”

The clipped clop of horse hooves filled the air as riders from all corners of the world filled the arena, Russian Cossacks, mounted troops from Germany, Mexicans, Spaniard, Filipinos, Cowboys, and Chief Sitting Bull with the Sioux warriors in full headdress.

Roy’s dad yelled over the crowds cheering, “And I thought I could ride, they put me to shame.”

He had never seen such an extravaganza, he, and his dad along with the rest of the crowd, sat transfixed as one incredible act followed another.

 Buffalo stampeded across the field as a buffalo hunt was reenacted.

His dad leaned over; “I heard about those buffalo hunts but never experienced one myself.”

They both stood to cheer and applauded with the rest of the crowd when the Deadwood stagecoach raced onto the field followed by blood thirsty whoops and holler of Indians in hot pursuit. Other acts featured Indians dressed in the native costumes and feather headdresses preformed some of their native dances. Riders on horseback showed off their riding skills and sharp shooters their shooting skills. Roy sat breathless as cowboys sat astride horses that did their best to buck them off, and other showed of their skills as they lassoed cattle and horses.

Roy nudged his dad, “I certainly never mastered those skills when we lived in Oklahoma, but Milo wasn’t bad at it.”

“I reckon so,” said his dad. “That would’ve been something if he had gone to work for Cody. Don’t suppose he’d ever want too though.”

The reenactment of Custer’s last stand interrupted their conversation. The crowd went wild and Roy found he needed to sit and catch his breath after all the cheering he did. Only to have his heart race again when finale started. An Indian attack on a settler’s cabin.

As the announcer announced the end of the show, Roy put his bowler hat back upon his head. “That was quite the show. What did you think Dad?”

“I’d say Cody found his niche in life, all right. Thanks for bringing me, son. I never believed I could enjoy it so much.”

“They exited the Arena. Roy waved toward the tents set up around the grounds. Let’s take in a few more side shows before we head home.”

They watched some Indians show off some of their dancing. Their bodies rose and dropped up and down with the beat of the drum. The bronco bucking and sharpshooting acts reminded Roy he would never have made a good cowboy.

After viewing the elephants his dad said, “I reckon it’s time we called it a day.”

They walked past a row of performer’s tents toward the exit. A voice said, “If it isn’t Sam Caple. It’s been years since I saw you.”

His father stepped toward the nearest tent. “Why, Bill, I am surprised you recognized me, it’s indeed been years.”

Oh my God, thought Roy, It’s Buffalo Bill himself. Dad wasn’t telling a tale; he really knew him.

He heard Buffalo Bill say. “I’d recognize those blue eyes of yours anywhere. So, are you living here, now?” 

“Sure do,” said his dad, “Well, actually next door in the town of Puyallup.”

 He motioned for Roy to come closer. “This is my son, Roy. “

Cody reached out his hand to shake, “Glad to meet you. Your Pa and I go way back to our scouting and freighting days.”

Roy gulped, what did one say to someone so famous. “Nice, nice to meet you, sir,” he stammered.

A man came to Cody’s side. He whispered something in his ear, Cody nodded and turned back to them, “I’d love to reminisce with you but I have some affairs to attend to.”

 He leaned over and shook his dad’s hand. “Sam, it was nice seeing you after all these years. Take care,” and he turned and disappeared into his tent.

  

Author’s Notes:

Details for the Wild West show came from watching clips of the show on You Tube. My grandfather often mentioned going to see this show with his dad and how surprised he was when after the show Cody recognized his dad calling him by name. The Puyallup newspaper has an interview with his dad shortly after Cody passed away where he tells of their freighting days when he knew him. Another newspaper article in Kansas mentioned Milo’s prowess as a cowboy.