tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1245037230513508962024-02-18T22:15:03.864-08:00Crocketts BluffTales of an Arkansas ChildhoodDPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-28811259363754119672022-07-16T14:14:00.004-07:002022-07-16T14:16:36.878-07:00Flavelia and George Kline<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDS2ywjpRwFpO1ZVAAgCci3M8yvxCUPHOxbpezpdTpHd2oa_H56KbRoAakbn0oSHfXXjMaZ0-1OhSAYcD3dFPm_oEta9_UfLFgfTS3EKoTPbe7NBZrGcf5FABUEdxg_dFfyL86IaIrfQ/s1600/George+Kiline+1919+Rafter+Signature.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDS2ywjpRwFpO1ZVAAgCci3M8yvxCUPHOxbpezpdTpHd2oa_H56KbRoAakbn0oSHfXXjMaZ0-1OhSAYcD3dFPm_oEta9_UfLFgfTS3EKoTPbe7NBZrGcf5FABUEdxg_dFfyL86IaIrfQ/s320/George+Kiline+1919+Rafter+Signature.jpg" width="320" /></a></p>
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<a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=733427112" href="https://www.facebook.com/jim.prange?fref=photo" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Jim Prange</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="fbPhotosPhotoContext" id="fbPhotoSnowliftContext"></span><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" style="display: inline; line-height: 18px; outline: none; width: auto;" tabindex="0">George and Bela Kline. I have some reason to believe that this photo was taken in 1922, likely in Crocketts Bluff, Arkansas. They were close friends of the Pranges and many other people at The Bluff. Living legends. I remember them from my early childhood during visits to Arkansas. One of my all-time favorite childhood days was spent riding their horse "Lightning" at the home of Uncle Cal and Aunt Martelia Rowe.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7078BUiYorS9SgVr-hXjEgZ_tmmMapiDGOhC11E6Tzd7wd9cLS3XXvKUEVRy2e_2G00nawlD0QuNX4vU1BpE1R7YPF8IFzwclGMnkOAQvPyvD7Q3YwFxtKceryY6GQfVrh_cDKVZLw8/s1600/Flavelia+Kline+at+Crockett's+Bluff+++Jim+Prange+photo.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7078BUiYorS9SgVr-hXjEgZ_tmmMapiDGOhC11E6Tzd7wd9cLS3XXvKUEVRy2e_2G00nawlD0QuNX4vU1BpE1R7YPF8IFzwclGMnkOAQvPyvD7Q3YwFxtKceryY6GQfVrh_cDKVZLw8/s400/Flavelia+Kline+at+Crockett's+Bluff+++Jim+Prange+photo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flavelia Kline with Jim and Judy Prange early 1950s</td></tr>
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-37614399500022623442018-10-01T08:43:00.000-07:002018-10-01T08:43:41.209-07:00<br />
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<b>Duck Hunting: Arkansas 1950</b></div>
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<i>For Russell Marrs</i></div>
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Beyond Voss Lake whose waters seep into a grove<br />
of pin oaks, we crouch knee deep in the invading<br />
darkness as they land in flocks, giddily gliding<br />
to watery earth, silhouettes in the afterglow of<br />
the Arkansas sky.<br />
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"Wait," he whispers, as I clutch the old 12<br />
gauge at the ready, "till they've all landed."<br />
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I feel the chatter of my teeth as I wait<br />
for his word in the fading November light.<br />
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On signal, the charge against my shoulder<br />
the faint tickling inside my ears, the strange<br />
sweet smell of gunpowder tell me I have acted.<br />
The blasts from our weapons have shattered the world.<br />
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As the smoke clears I am numbed by the hazy carnage.<br />
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"Move," he urges, "let's get 'em"!<br />
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I scramble forward, groping for both cripples<br />
and fallen.<br />
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Half expcting once gallant iridescent necks,<br />
now limber and distorted, not to hold the weight<br />
of their extended connections, I shudder as I<br />
feel the grit in their craws.<br />
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More than we can bear, like giant clusters<br />
of warm grapes, we shoulder them on the run.<br />
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Downy flecks as from childish pillow fights<br />
drift about like winter fire flies and settle<br />
upon my hands as I chase the nacreous bulk<br />
of his hunting jacket through diverse thickets<br />
along unfamiliar paths avoiding game wardens.DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-4006829368839866582018-06-23T14:19:00.002-07:002018-06-23T14:19:45.767-07:00Reunion of Class of 1953 at St. Charles High School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Identified by their names in 1953!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmM_I7uIHACC3nrEqORjVFBuzw2ny50SGK_-Evk26RV6rzXIrxSLnO6mDoLSv5MLI4X9YjTze30jLz-3Qv8TJjkXd4oX64uPRYp7CNwjM3poLXWgUNcbClsgQyaRLFFmzVPrdy3j-t-Y/s1600/Kennys%252C+ARK%252C+Reunion%252C+Metro+Mus++June+July+03+077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmM_I7uIHACC3nrEqORjVFBuzw2ny50SGK_-Evk26RV6rzXIrxSLnO6mDoLSv5MLI4X9YjTze30jLz-3Qv8TJjkXd4oX64uPRYp7CNwjM3poLXWgUNcbClsgQyaRLFFmzVPrdy3j-t-Y/s320/Kennys%252C+ARK%252C+Reunion%252C+Metro+Mus++June+July+03+077.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elizabeth Dupslaff and Jo Ann Browning</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg55LQPnoCsf7_4YBbXyTkdD-rjLAaC9y2nw0AiER6g9VfVevrPwtFI_G0Yv03yTF1IyEW0hFJuUpexw3pzabEMdm1ZcOw1KdXnrPhJwqe0FYb4fCXLXON1CK68mYoFxEwXhYUKslyt2A/s1600/Kennys%252C+ARK%252C+Reunion%252C+Metro+Mus++June+July+03+075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg55LQPnoCsf7_4YBbXyTkdD-rjLAaC9y2nw0AiER6g9VfVevrPwtFI_G0Yv03yTF1IyEW0hFJuUpexw3pzabEMdm1ZcOw1KdXnrPhJwqe0FYb4fCXLXON1CK68mYoFxEwXhYUKslyt2A/s320/Kennys%252C+ARK%252C+Reunion%252C+Metro+Mus++June+July+03+075.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jane Dupslaff, her daughter Cindy Dee, Harley Brown, and Eunice Ward</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkimtoF54G02hNxSL6zGfxZrDihNvFUSh-HmF7Hat2KXeB2uqqakxASA7Y-6dTPp8VLppoGHFjojJmOoy552NgmWMn1ajNdfCZs4cOAdMi5EtN8MEbKvGRXQVWTmabX0oKlOv6AhV9XrQ/s1600/Kennys%252C+ARK%252C+Reunion%252C+Metro+Mus++June+July+03+074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkimtoF54G02hNxSL6zGfxZrDihNvFUSh-HmF7Hat2KXeB2uqqakxASA7Y-6dTPp8VLppoGHFjojJmOoy552NgmWMn1ajNdfCZs4cOAdMi5EtN8MEbKvGRXQVWTmabX0oKlOv6AhV9XrQ/s320/Kennys%252C+ARK%252C+Reunion%252C+Metro+Mus++June+July+03+074.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Husband of Lottie Mae Vernor and Mora Faye Duty</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPM0Nf4jYRqD9FEhIfoKjsZ7rLmo4Ts6SicmpIE01_GLSOfsBiHO4kaUYW3EJc5pBcD8WXVKyzx3cEB_n4hW7Ix9nuSWNqs198_gY2OOaFzP3ZUdTJ5epynUtTb7PFQt0b56LVUFU2sPE/s1600/Kennys%252C+ARK%252C+Reunion%252C+Metro+Mus++June+July+03+081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPM0Nf4jYRqD9FEhIfoKjsZ7rLmo4Ts6SicmpIE01_GLSOfsBiHO4kaUYW3EJc5pBcD8WXVKyzx3cEB_n4hW7Ix9nuSWNqs198_gY2OOaFzP3ZUdTJ5epynUtTb7PFQt0b56LVUFU2sPE/s320/Kennys%252C+ARK%252C+Reunion%252C+Metro+Mus++June+July+03+081.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back: Jo Ann, May Crablin, Lottie, Mora Faye and Jane</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0cf_h1ZBZb93VDTo8AAwu4eR18Gr3EX82f2bkao81TEVAtDXQsqgckzYlJwyQS49McwI1zjLcjn6CW9W1mwd7SUivuVP2IsyOx1Mp5MNbyBgZHBFmJAhG5o7QST7Qp6Jegm1ldiTEqU/s1600/Kennys%252C+ARK%252C+Reunion%252C+Metro+Mus++June+July+03+078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0cf_h1ZBZb93VDTo8AAwu4eR18Gr3EX82f2bkao81TEVAtDXQsqgckzYlJwyQS49McwI1zjLcjn6CW9W1mwd7SUivuVP2IsyOx1Mp5MNbyBgZHBFmJAhG5o7QST7Qp6Jegm1ldiTEqU/s400/Kennys%252C+ARK%252C+Reunion%252C+Metro+Mus++June+July+03+078.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front Row: Dale Woodiel, Elizabeth Dupslaff, Peter Van Huizen</td></tr>
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<span id="goog_1518457828"></span><span id="goog_1518457829"></span>DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-36046442312738176272018-06-23T13:50:00.000-07:002018-06-23T13:50:21.285-07:00Crockett's Bluff School 1938 or 9?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br />Crockett's Bluff School in late 1930s<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RjsBAxTSUNdwKdVepUlKgHUO5XqGl-F48NKMm25lSz9LCAOPCB7mU-8tZ5XiNhA1z6ITbk0wrf4PqI4XnZnVAMc_acV5bMnE4QM_aH6yoVaNe0SGWwOAiahQmsd98j1hZN0IXUiqEg8/s1600/IMG_0030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RjsBAxTSUNdwKdVepUlKgHUO5XqGl-F48NKMm25lSz9LCAOPCB7mU-8tZ5XiNhA1z6ITbk0wrf4PqI4XnZnVAMc_acV5bMnE4QM_aH6yoVaNe0SGWwOAiahQmsd98j1hZN0IXUiqEg8/s640/IMG_0030.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Top row: Teacher Duke Price, Blank, Lewis Rush, Willene Graves, Blank, Harold Rush, Blank, Shelby Woodiel<br />Front row: Blank, ?Prange, Ida Carolyn Prange, Blank, Blank, Blank, Blank.<br />(Identifications would be appreciated)</span></td></tr>
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-73467762402592082382018-06-23T10:17:00.003-07:002018-06-23T10:17:48.163-07:00Birds in the Bluff<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> When I was a boy in in the old house on the hill overlooking the White River in Crockett's Bluff in the late 1930s and 40s, we took birds for granted - domestic as well as wild. There were birds aplenty flittering about thoughout the days and nights in every season in a genuine "free range' environment. Though many folks had "chicken pens," chickens have a way of freeing themselves to wander, a freedom that many households allowed, only to gather them into the pens at the end of the day to sleep in their nests in a "chicken house", away from the various four legged vermits that wandered about the country side at night, sheds at least with a roof and stalls for egg providers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the 1930s in places like the Bluff almost any animal, wild or domestic, was considered edible. There was not, to say the least, a lot of money at hand. There were fruit trees, pears and apples in the remnants of the old orchards established by the Prange family, the previous owners of the land. We raised chickens, of course, and there were always fish from the lakes and the White River, but most larger migratory fowl - mallards and Canada Geese, as well as doves and quail - were eaten, and I can recall having racoon with sweet potatoes (quite tasty, actually).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So-called bird <i>watching</i> was unknown, and I cannot recall anyone who had a bird house. Their sounds were routine background noise, especially <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIxfVSS_65o">the Whip Poor Wills</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Km-jtXueTw">Mourning Doves </a> that seemed to have, along with <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M02_dnl9zCA">the Bull Frogs </a>over the hill in the Prange pod, a general audience to themselves from the ancient oak trees at the back of the garden during that lovely half hour or so on a summer night when the sun had set before night fell.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">During my most recent visit to the Bluff a few weeks ago on the occasion of the funeral of my brother Shelby, I fought the swarms of gnats to at least drive through the old home place, now owned and neatly maintained by my nephew Gary Woodiel. The old house and all the outbuildings are long gone, but the remnants of the oldest trees still stood, the pecan near where the old house stood and the old oak on the edge of the hill where I used to park the school bus which I drove during my senior year at St. Charles High School.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As we drove down the short drive past the metal "Woodiel Lane" sign it was obvious that Spring had arrived in all its richness, leaving every local botanical species glowing in lush greenness. But as we reached the top of the rise to which in my childhood was our front yard, everything changed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Suddenly, it was apparent that in almost any direction one looked, among every dozen trees or so, there was a birdhouse of some style in a variety of bright colors!</span><br />
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<br />DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-42341677169412136702018-06-23T10:11:00.000-07:002018-06-23T10:11:39.918-07:00The Bluffs Themselves<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTr5Nx5YjGHXvrBz-vyv_ehpvPAnuz5T7DiiFCjVRTrSOW6ptxely5883GE21QFYyxcivzrxS0ittclONirkUju5sT7EuMzrQfIlQY5_uYPzkM6sye37msyrsvam-iwyhCzdlodk0wjDw/s1600/CB+Bluffs.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTr5Nx5YjGHXvrBz-vyv_ehpvPAnuz5T7DiiFCjVRTrSOW6ptxely5883GE21QFYyxcivzrxS0ittclONirkUju5sT7EuMzrQfIlQY5_uYPzkM6sye37msyrsvam-iwyhCzdlodk0wjDw/s1600/CB+Bluffs.tif" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A 1980s? shot made from the plane of a friend of Ken Shireman who flew us over one fine afternoon while I was visiting the Shiremans in Stuttgart. Fairly good shot of the bluffs themselves and touches of the non wooded areas from the area around the Crockett's Bluff canal in the Schwab Store area at the upper right down to the area of the old Woodiel home spot and on down to the bottom of the road landing to the river at the base of the hill where the hunting lodge is still located.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSytWpdNuN8HD8vEpNW5caUQN1BKhc8c1kbaZl7rGDxQzvyPnpj03xzhE_6gcgNxpOvJ05BqDRjDyS6QmCswj6f3mW8Ctg-FwSuYvmpAQYDDQdi1zehZL3Wnw88RX05aDHN3h_uTTGE_E/s1600/Crockett%2527s+Bluff+via+Google+Maps+1994.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="487" data-original-width="640" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSytWpdNuN8HD8vEpNW5caUQN1BKhc8c1kbaZl7rGDxQzvyPnpj03xzhE_6gcgNxpOvJ05BqDRjDyS6QmCswj6f3mW8Ctg-FwSuYvmpAQYDDQdi1zehZL3Wnw88RX05aDHN3h_uTTGE_E/s640/Crockett%2527s+Bluff+via+Google+Maps+1994.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-size: 13.2px;">This original Henry Prange family barn rests solidly still - half its roof visible on the Google Earth image - a few yards west between Schwab's Store and the Prange residence. It was the scribbled </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-size: 13.2px;">inscriptions within it on its walls and rafters that caught Darrell's eye, particularly the 1916 dates and autographs posted there with brushes in apparently the black stove-polish-like that was used to mark the Prange logo on the rice sacks stored there </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-size: 13.2px;">in the early decades of the 1900s. If it was a functioning barn at that date, it had to have been built somewhat earlier, and there's no other structure of any kind in the area known to date back before 1900.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-3487167202695841372018-05-27T13:47:00.000-07:002018-05-27T17:24:25.364-07:00Helen Spence, Dayton Bowers, and a Mysterious Quilt<br />
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When I think of the evolution of photography in America, I tend to think of Matthew Brady whose striking images of young frequently illiterate young men, such as my great grandfather, who enlisted in the Confederate Army in Alabama at about 18, and though badly wounded near the war's end, nevertheless survived. The Civil War was there to be captured, and Brady ventured southward from New York with this relatively new device, to capture it in images.<br />
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As Fortune would have it, Dayton Bowers was about six when my greatfather enlisted, and the War Between the States would be history before he would discover the artistic possibilities of a camera. In stark contrast to the horrors of battlefields, Bowers ventured southward from Indiana to Arkansas in the post war years to capture the lives and fortunes of folks in the vast Grand Prairie in Stuttgart and DeWitt and the smaller towns along the White River like Crockett's Bluff and St. Charles.<br />
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Thanks to the efforts of Denise Parkinson, the significance of his images, as evidence of the richness of life in this part of Arkansas, particularly that along the White River, in the first decades of the twentieth century, has been "rediscovered." DPW 5.27.18<br />
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[<i>The fascinating conversation below has been lifted, with Denise's permission, from a Facebook exchange between Denise and Jeanie Marrs Vasseur, and Billy Rabeneck. Both Jeanie and I were born in Crockett's Bluff, though neither of us actually lived on or in a White River houseboat, as did Denise</i>.]<br />
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<span class="fwn fcg"><span aria-hidden="true"></span><a data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard-referer="ARSV6nwOG1n_7rfUTDqALu4G8TC9X_d4c0eOAUrPLgbQn2OqyEdMtnALy9-aXk1lvJ0" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=1022934980&extragetparams=%7B%22hc_ref%22%3A%22ARSV6nwOG1n_7rfUTDqALu4G8TC9X_d4c0eOAUrPLgbQn2OqyEdMtnALy9-aXk1lvJ0%22%2C%22fref%22%3A%22nf%22%2C%22directed_target_id%22%3A1612486822337258%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/denise.parkinson.14?hc_ref=ARSV6nwOG1n_7rfUTDqALu4G8TC9X_d4c0eOAUrPLgbQn2OqyEdMtnALy9-aXk1lvJ0&fref=nf">Denise Parkinson</a><a href="https://www.facebook.com/denise.parkinson.14?hc_ref=ARSV6nwOG1n_7rfUTDqALu4G8TC9X_d4c0eOAUrPLgbQn2OqyEdMtnALy9-aXk1lvJ0&fref=nf"></a><span aria-hidden="true"></span><span class="accessible_elem"> </span><i class="_gb8 img sp_E9f9j4g5GgO sx_5ba9a1"><u>to</u></i><span class="accessible_elem"> </span><a class="_wpv" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/group.php?id=1612486822337258&extragetparams=%7B%22fref%22%3A%22nf%22%7D&ref=nf_target" href="file:///C:/groups/1612486822337258/?ref=nf_target&fref=nf">The Rediscovered Archives of Dayton Bowers</a><a href="file:///C:/groups/1612486822337258/?ref=nf_target&fref=nf"></a></span></h5>
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<span class="b_2nonxrgw1 p_2nonxmbsz" data-ft="{"tn":"j"}"><a class="z_2nonxk3ol u_2nonxmbsw" href="file:///C:/Users/Woody/Pictures/AUCW%20180/Denise%20Parkinson%20Photo%20from%20Facebook.html#"></a></span><span aria-hidden="true" role="presentation"> · </span><span class="fsm fwn fcg"><a class="_5pcq" href="file:///C:/groups/1612486822337258/permalink/1669769356609004/" target=""><abbr class="_5ptz" data-shorten="1" data-utime="1450197459" title="12/15/2015 11:37am"><span class="timestampContent">December 15, 2015</span></abbr></a></span><span aria-hidden="true" role="presentation"> · </span><br />
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This photo of Helen Spence (standing) and her sister Edie Spence was taken around 1915 by Dayton Bowers. It's a detail of a photo of several people and appeared in my book, Daughter of the White River. The quilt in the background was used as a backdrop in several photos I have seen by Bowers, who traveled to St. Charles throughout his career.</div>
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<span class=" UFICommentActorAndBody"><a class=" UFICommentActorName" data-ft="{"tn":";"}" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/hovercard.php?id=100003379724843&extragetparams=%7B%22is_public%22%3Afalse%2C%22hc_location%22%3A%22ufi%22%2C%22directed_target_id%22%3A%221612486822337258%22%7D" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/jeanie.vasseur?fref=ufi" target="_self">Jeanie Marrs Vasseur</a> <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody">Denise, I would not be surprised if all three pictures here were taken at the same time, Compare the pattern at my grt grd father's elbo with the pattern of the seated girl's picture (probably same chair!)</span></span></span><br />
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<span class=" UFICommentActorAndBody"><a class=" UFICommentActorName" data-ft="{"tn":";"}" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/hovercard.php?id=100000344282937&extragetparams=%7B%22is_public%22%3Afalse%2C%22hc_location%22%3A%22ufi%22%2C%22directed_target_id%22%3A%221612486822337258%22%7D" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/billy.rabeneck?fref=ufi" target="_self">Billy Rabeneck</a> <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody">I wonder if the picture of Helen and Edie was taken from a larger picture? I can see another person's shoulder to the right, like maybe this was a school class picture? A Sunday school class picture or something larger.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class=" UFICommentActorAndBody"><a class=" UFICommentActorName" data-ft="{"tn":";"}" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/hovercard.php?id=100000344282937&extragetparams=%7B%22is_public%22%3Afalse%2C%22hc_location%22%3A%22ufi%22%2C%22directed_target_id%22%3A%221612486822337258%22%7D" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/billy.rabeneck?fref=ufi" target="_self">Billy Rabeneck</a> <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody">It also occurs to me that this could be Eva, and Wesley Spence (Helen and Edie's half-sister, and half-brother) to the right as well. Edie and Helen's mother was Ellen Woods, and Eva and Wesley's mother was Jeannie Ealum. I think Ellen died at some point, and then Cicero Spence married Jeannie. Jeannie and Cicero evidently divorced because Jeannie, Eva, and Wesley moved to Missouri, and Jeannie remarried.</span></span></span><br />
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You were right, Billy, at least according to Mrs. Hallie Gosnell Keithley - as far as we know the oldest surviving Crockett's Bluff resident - in her Life Story of her father George Gosnell. p. 32 where she labels the four. I have to say this image of Helen is astonishing. Waiting for the snap of the shutter?</div>
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-9100994620951946302016-04-07T13:18:00.002-07:002016-04-10T06:50:18.123-07:00Life on the White River: Two Revealing Images from the 1920s and '30s<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxZjFHgDnouFJPr3_LaKHJ6KDfE49Jua1f28knJ0hIcTGNST5VUnoCUmT1UfUr86DS2MCAqgHF8Quhu-zCc9Ngtpi5LVAsPdqpX2qTEJTrV1E107WQ5O4TuMKVjheMiNiq92u6RgmDtY/s1600/Houseboat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxZjFHgDnouFJPr3_LaKHJ6KDfE49Jua1f28knJ0hIcTGNST5VUnoCUmT1UfUr86DS2MCAqgHF8Quhu-zCc9Ngtpi5LVAsPdqpX2qTEJTrV1E107WQ5O4TuMKVjheMiNiq92u6RgmDtY/s640/Houseboat.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Undated photograph of a family on their houseboat, presumably along the White River.<b> Ark Post Museum State Park</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #9197a3; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.08px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #9197a3; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.08px; text-align: left;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span aria-hidden="true" role="presentation">· </span><a class="uiStreamPrivacy inlineBlock fbStreamPrivacy fbPrivacyAudienceIndicator _5pcq" data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-content="Public" href="https://www.facebook.com/search/top/?q=grand%20prairie%20historical%20society#" role="button" style="cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: middle; zoom: 1;"><i class="lock img sp_2W-czKG-QOF sx_397d74" style="background-image: url("/rsrc.php/v2/yW/r/6zltWv6aFID.png"); background-position: -39px -77px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; bottom: -1px; display: inline-block; height: 12px; margin-bottom: -5px; position: relative; vertical-align: top; width: 12px;"></i></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 16.08px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> This image was posted on Facebook by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/denise.parkinson.14?fref=ts">Denise Parkinson </a>who, like me, remembers houseboats up and down the White River in our younger days. I have become fascinated, largely thanks to her and a fellow Crockett's Bluff descendant Jim Prange, with the photographer Dayton Bowers who maintained a studio in DeWitt from the 1870s to his death in 1924. Clearly, one of the pioneers of the art form: more skilled (better cameras?) than Mathew Brady and with a more artistic eye. This image, like the one below of Helen Spence and her father Cicero and others, which was made by Bowers, has a number of the same details, particularly in the attention paid to its composition.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 16.08px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Both images have been carefully staged with captivating attention to detail. Both designed to reflect a lifestyle. </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 16.08px;">Would that the houseboat gathering above had been just a bit closer to the camera. How interesting would be the details of the clothing, particularly those ties worn by men on the roof, two seating in a semi-yoga position, with another squatting to their right and two others standing behind in casual positions with a leg crossed.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 16.08px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Below on the lower porch, the elders? or parents? with two young girls, one standing between the elders and another perched on the railing. Everyone in his or her place. Randomly balanced.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 16.08px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> And, unlike the image below, the houseboat leaves everything to the viewer's imagination. Is this the White River? All one family? An extended family? Since the men on the roof appear to be about the same age, were they both family and friends? Sunday afternoon? Holiday? And that relatively fancy boat tied at the right? And what's the story of the second smaller houseboat in the right background?</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 16.08px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> What is clear, however, is this dwelling is several cuts above the houseboats of the ordinary inhabitants - depicted in the image below - who made their living from the river.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE7qchQTMaEsiG2OjNUHNeXVOeEmczqTxHmzgIu7bLHXqJniw42q1H1FaJelAJC-d85DcmrrxPnrw1vaM0X7mTXdFCFbkJ37GmyjposFQpAei6Vt80N-MjDzBTpbbVaGfjdDh4zIsxutg/s1600/Cicero+and+Helen+Spence+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE7qchQTMaEsiG2OjNUHNeXVOeEmczqTxHmzgIu7bLHXqJniw42q1H1FaJelAJC-d85DcmrrxPnrw1vaM0X7mTXdFCFbkJ37GmyjposFQpAei6Vt80N-MjDzBTpbbVaGfjdDh4zIsxutg/s640/Cicero+and+Helen+Spence+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L-R: Cicero Spence, Helen Spence, John Black and others at fur trading barn at St. Charles. Circa 1919</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Unlike the image above of the houseboat gathering, this image is much closer to the camera and therefore more revealing in its detail. Although intriguing in its detail of life on the White River in the early decades of the twentieth century, it is even more astonishing as a virtual glimpse of the prehistory of Cicero Spence and his daughter Helen at the left.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> In her <i><a href="https://www.google.com/webhp?sourceid=chrome-instant&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8#q=Daughter+of+the+white+river">Daughter of the White River</a></i>, Denise Parkinson includes an expanded view of this image that includes the unidentified figure with a rifle at the right of the black dog: "Expanded view of Cicero and Helen Spence and John Black, as well as unidentified boys and a hunter, at a fur trading barn in St. Charles, possibly circa 1918."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> A staged collection of related objects, in addition to the array of furs, are displayed on the wall. Mostly "hides" of raccoons, with perhaps those of mink - far left behind the rifle next to Cicero - and a single one of a deer, with its head and antlers at Helen's left. Everyone kneeling or sitting, everyone dressed appropriately - Cicero with his pistol and vest of shells, the boys in their hats, the powder horn hanging over the deer skin - and every object significant to its theme. The Brown's Mule chewing tobacco can/box along with angled<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJo7mAa6wS-B7xzEIncAzygagdgDDvwcyWWmjYoDAQGAT7thFnFOwnKgulCstF4JSBTc9kpRdjcXCZYtdgzKFI804_Yn9bnVSrf9tA9TfO8c1Eb0kAw1F4kzL3jXQvq9q0PFkJWcWEWNs/s1600/Bruwn%2527s+Mule.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJo7mAa6wS-B7xzEIncAzygagdgDDvwcyWWmjYoDAQGAT7thFnFOwnKgulCstF4JSBTc9kpRdjcXCZYtdgzKFI804_Yn9bnVSrf9tA9TfO8c1Eb0kAw1F4kzL3jXQvq9q0PFkJWcWEWNs/s200/Bruwn%2527s+Mule.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brown's Mule Tobacco Box</td></tr>
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wooden beam at the right foreground serve as perfect objects to add balance to the image.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Obviously, the photographer had more in mind than a simple recording of some folks and some furs. Hunting and trapping and fishing were the mainstays for survival on the White River in those days - especially during winter months - activities that for survival required killing and slaughter.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> None of those present when this image was captured, certainly not the photographer Dayton Bowers, could have dreamed that by the time this young Helen Spence in her white leggings reached her late teens Cicero would be killed and she would use perhaps the pistol, held here casually in her father's hand, to kill "her daddy's" killer at his trial in the DeWitt Court House.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://dwparkinson.com/a-treasure-comes-home/">Parkinson, Denise, A Treasure Comes Home, May 2015</a></span><br />
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-68057775015089678562015-05-21T07:45:00.002-07:002015-05-21T15:06:53.975-07:00Prange Family 1995 Visit to Their Birth Place<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Adolph Prange family was arguably the largest and most prominent family in Crockett's Bluff from the late 1920s to the end of World War II. In 1929 they moved to their house west of the Prange Store that stood overlooking the White River and the riverside road that ran northward from Rt. 153 along the river embankment to what was generally known as the "steamboat landing." By the late 1930s and the war years, the older children gradually moved away from the Bluff, and in 1944 the store was closed and Adolph and Edna and the youngest children moved permanently to California.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fortunately for us today, the Pranges believed in recording the activities and progressions of their family. From early "box" cameras on, they recorded the milestones of their lives. Like so many other images on this site, I'm indebted to Jim Prange, the son of James, one of the eldest of the clan, for many images of the family and the Bluff generally, as well as these videos.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Over the years, various members of the family paid visits to the Bluff, particularly for annual Fourth of July celebration. In 1995 they made a major - and for many, a final - pilgrimage to the Bluff that was faithfully recorded by a video camera. Jim was kind enough to transfer them to me via DVD. Though sections of them understandably vary in clarity, the sound is generally clear and the moments have been captured.</span><br />
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<b><span style="color: red;">I</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red;">Part I</span></b> begins with a windshield view from one of a caravan of Prange vehicles approaching from the west on Rt. 153 (the old Hill Road). David Prange moderates the first gathering on the bank of the White River at the old "Steamboat Landing." Stories and laughter. Afterward, there are similar stops at the site of the Prange Store and Schwab's Store and the Cemetery across from the old Post Office.<br />
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<b><span style="color: red;">II</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red;">Part II</span></b> returns to the old Prange homesite. General recollections of their memories of the Bethlehem Lutheran Church that stood nearby it. Gravesite of Adolph Prange's younger brother Bernard who died in his childhood. Lin "Hal" relates his memory of the day his parents left for California in his brother Joe's 41 Ford for California, and their stop for one final look back at their home and store. It ends with the arrival of the group at the Poplar Creek Missionary Baptist Church (which in part is composed today of the Lutheran Church that was moved west five miles or so to this spot) where other older friends and members of the community from the 1930s and 40s.<br />
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<span style="color: red;"><b>III</b></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: red;">Parts III and IV</span></b>, also moderated by Hal who opens their discussion with a poem "At Two O'Clock," after which he invites stories from the Prange siblings, as well as others in the gathering: Halley and Sikes Keithley, Lucille and Shelby Woodiel, Boone Bullock, and others. Two members of the Poplar Creek congregation - L.S. Stiggers and Roy Allan, both old friends of the Prange family - host the gathering, along with their Minister Rev. Williams. <a href="http://crockettsbluff-dpw.blogspot.com/2010/04/hal-pranges-nostalgic-look-at-leaving.html"> Boone relates the story of his dog Charlie and the cart he made that carried Hal as a young boy.</a><br />
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<span style="color: red;"><b>IV</b></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: red;">Part IV</span></b> continues the general discussion and concludes with Roy Allen's rendition of a folk hymn entitled "<i>How Sweet It One Day Will Be.</i>"DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-33136893270464195782015-01-06T13:53:00.001-08:002015-01-06T13:53:40.052-08:00January 1918: White River Frozen at Clarendon <br />
[This image was originally posted by<b> Gary Shaw</b> (with<b> Betty Edwards Norwood</b>) on Facebook and later shared there by <b>John Coker, Vickie Schwab,</b> and others.]<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxhc8-yirJYyErYID1ex_GSDnU8lIGY6SNOHmNtwpxCVCCqhCqEtqW1asu7S5HfTsnkW1_tQV1RLD42jD66ZJMCNHQjdDn4Tg2VuhYoxbnGOXgZ53HpW79SXrVQGIrarCq0vHhVzBnsY/s1600/White+River+Frozen+at+Clarendon,+AR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxhc8-yirJYyErYID1ex_GSDnU8lIGY6SNOHmNtwpxCVCCqhCqEtqW1asu7S5HfTsnkW1_tQV1RLD42jD66ZJMCNHQjdDn4Tg2VuhYoxbnGOXgZ53HpW79SXrVQGIrarCq0vHhVzBnsY/s1600/White+River+Frozen+at+Clarendon,+AR.jpg" height="344" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The White River at Clarendon, AR: January 1918</td></tr>
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"This is a 1918 photo of a solid White River at Clarendon in January of that year, frozen when temperatures ran 13 below zero. The River was solid enough to cross with wagons and horses and cars crossing at Clarendon that winter when the biggest snowstorm to hit Arkansas in the 19th century left no region untouched in Arkansas. Little Rock was buried in 19.4 inches of snow. Other parts in the northern part like Searcy had up to 30 inches." Facebook note.</div>
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This is the first image I've seen that verifies the legend heard from time to time by all of us as children growing up there in the 1940s and 50s. I can recall Russell Marrs stories of it from his childhood. DPW</div>
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-23807770091646893632014-08-19T09:41:00.002-07:002014-08-19T09:44:25.425-07:00The Tindall-Prange Store and the Port of Crockett's Bluff<br />
Two additional beautifully preserved images that has surfaced and been forwarded to me by Jim Prange, along with some detailed comments posted by John Cover on Facebook. The originals, as Jim notes, were in the possession of a descendant of the Tindall Family and were pass on to him by Glen Mosenthin, the editor of the Grand Prairie Historical Society Journal. "The Prange Bros. referred to here are the four sons of Henry Prange: Theodore, August, Edmund, and George. i would place the photo circa 1915, almost definitely between the years 1908-1923."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tindall-Prange Store late 1800s or early 1900s<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">As John Cover notes, before its steady decline in population over the past half century or so, Crockett's Bluff was once a relatively "hopping little town" in the early decades of the twentieth century. This impressive structure, with what appears to be a freshness of construction, he assumes probably stood, as Jim Prange states, a little south of the present Schwab store building. There was, as John also notes, and even I remember in the 1950s and 60s, a Prange store just to the north of the Schwab store.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Port of Crockett's Bluff: Sunday morning, March 18? 1917<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The above image, unlike so many Jim Prange and others have gleaned from their family archives, leaves little mystery, since someone has inscribed the details on the image itself, complete with assurance that the water in the background is the White River: "Prange Bros. and Co. unloading boat load of feed on Sunday morning" followed by the date. It clearly reflects, as he notes, "how busy Crockett's Bluff was at one time."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The image, like so many before it, reveals much about "the port" at the bend of the White River that was gone when those of us who were born and grew up there during the 1940s. The following, passed along by Jim from the archives of the <i>DeWitt Era Enterprise, </i>clearly depicts a relatively thriving, even prosperous community -- essential evidence of the origins of rice farming in Arkansas County.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">PRANGE BROTHERS HAVE LARGEST RICE FARM - Purchase of Tindall's 2,000 acres give 6,000 acre farm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> "The purchase of A. A. Tindall's 2,000 acre rice farm from which adjoins it's holdings, makes Prange Brothers Company of Crocketts Bluff the owner of the largest rice farm in the state one of the largest in the world. The farm now contains 6,000 acres, 5,000 of which is rice land and the balance timber. The company expects to plant 4,200 acres of rice this season and about 2,000 acres has already been seeded.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> There are 18 tenants on the farm, each having charge of from 160 to 400 acres. A single canal system supplies the land with water, which is pumped from White River by two large plants with a total of about 800 horsepower. Two smaller auxiliary pumping plants are located on Sunset Lake. A commissary supplies the tenants and employees; there are huge warehouses for storing grain and a barge line brings in fuel and supplies and delivers the rice to market. Pikes will reach the farm from two directions, when the new system of roads for Arkansas is completed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Prange Brothers Company, Incorporated, is composed of C. H. Prange [Henry], George and August Prange. The Pranges have been engaged in the rice industry at Crocketts Bluff for a number of years."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">These figures fascinate those of us who were born into this community when much or most of this world was gone. Particularly "Pikes will reach the farm from two directions, when the new system of roads for Arkansas is completed." I can only barely remember (I think) when Rt. 153 was graveled. It would not be paved until well into the late 1950s.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Born there in 1935, I can never remember there being any "settlement" of out buildings on the "east" side of the river, so the image surprises. The paddle wheel steam boat is apparently pre-Mary Woods II with no stack of any kind, although it is obviously powerful enough to push a substantial barge of feed (we assume from the inscription). One assumes this was near the bend of the river before<a href="http://crockettsbluff-dpw.blogspot.com/2013/03/crocketts-bluff-in-1920s-memories-and.html"> the chute for loading grain </a>was built by the Prange Co. The dozen or so flat bed wagons reflect a major operation. If this is feed for livestock in addition to the hay that was bailed, it reflects an operation of impressive size. Of course, those of us who grew up in the 30s-50s would have known little or nothing about horse/mule wagons so prominent here. Those decades just before tractor-driven everything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When I followed "Old Buck" down George Kline's cotton middles a mile or two west of the Bluff in the late 1940s, followed by Mr. Kline and his favored "Lightning" harnessed before a cultivating plow, we hardly realized we were among the last of a horse-drawn tradition. In springs and summers to follow, however, I would perform similar operations in the driver's seats of seeming endless tractors on Graves, Anderson, Rush, Bullock, Currie, and other farms extending south and west of the Bluff. Although I never became wealthy on my $5.50 per day (sun-up to sun-down) salary (actually $2.50 plowing cotton middles) the work wasn't a complete waste. During a summer between my last high school years I would go to a summer 4H Club "camp" at the University at Fayetteville where I would win the tractor driving contest!</span></div>
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<br />DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-54281976798057069222014-06-12T15:27:00.001-07:002014-06-13T07:38:11.819-07:00Hog Roundup 1931<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
According to the<a href="http://www.encyclopediaofarkansas.net/encyclopedia/entry-detail.aspx?entryID=4451"> Encyclopedia of Arkansas History & Culture,</a> folks in Arkansas have the Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto to thank for bringing swine to Arkansas in 1541. Their offspring remain throughout the state today. While in the 1930s they served, in both their wild and domesticated varieties, as a welcomed source of protein for folks in Crockett's Bluff, today they have in their feral form become <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=feral+razorbacks&client=opera&hs=Rvo&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=QQubU4WKBcqeyASd0YGwCQ&ved=0CHIQsAQ&biw=1440&bih=788">a statewide nuisance</a> and enemy of the general natural environment.</div>
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Among several rare photographs passed along to me some time ago by Hallie Keithley - still to this date the oldest current resident of the Bluff - reflect life in the 1930s generally and more specifically life on the River. </div>
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The image below is especially rare and historically interesting for both the subjects in the fore and background. Thanks to the notes neatly inscribed on the back of the picture by Flavelia (Bela) Kline, both the husband of one of the figures in what appears to be a make-shift barge and for most of the years of my youth the post mistress from a room in the Kline house. </div>
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George and John Kline are returning from the final day of the wild hog roundup in 1931: <i> "Geo and John Kline leaving Monroe Co. on the last day of the hog round up, Jan. 15, 1931. The Steamer Robert H. Romander(?) coming up the river with 2 barges of logs 200,000 ft. It took her 15 min to make Crockett's Bluff Bend in White River."</i></div>
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Excellent image of what appears to be two houseboats abutting each other. Although Charlie McDonald was not someone I remember, his name was frequently mentioned in the Woodiel household. Could the boy in what appears to be "cowboy" attire be his son Gus, pictured elsewhere on this site hanging from the water tower as a young boy who would later loose one of his legs in World War II. "Im sure this picture was taken down at Mattox Bay because that's where the McDonalds tied up all the time."- Hallie Keithley<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CC:Riley Pool, Geo. Kline, Emmet Yokem, Chas. McDonald and ?</td></tr>
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Then names in the caption are from Hallie's notes. Only George Kline (all white in center background) I can positively identify because he gave me my first job working with him in his cotton field west of the Bluff near Voss Lake. The scene is a shady spot down on the nearest bank to the water on the White River. Why do I assume it's Sunday or a holiday. The white shirts and Mr. Pool's necktie, I guess. Must be early spring, because the water's "up" with little bank showing.DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-60505189182138676602014-05-11T05:27:00.000-07:002014-05-11T10:00:25.003-07:00A Grandmother I Never Met<div class="clearfix _5x46" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px; margin-bottom: 11px; zoom: 1;">
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<span class="fwb fcg" data-ft="{"tn":";"}" style="font-weight: bold;"><a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=1160163181&extragetparams=%7B%22fref%22%3A%22nf%22%2C%22directed_target_id%22%3A448989315170338%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/dale.woodiel.5?fref=nf" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><span style="color: #898f9c; cursor: pointer; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px; text-decoration: none;">Previously published on the Woodiel Family Group page of Facebook, February 21, 2014</span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After examining closely these images, I'm astonished by my youthful grandfather's awesome gaze and my grandmother's apparently innocent youthfulness. After applying our cousin Alice (Woodiel) Craft's records to their histories, I will never again neglect to remember and honor my grandmother on Mother's Day or any other day when I'm reminded of just how harsh life can be and how it must surely have been to Alice and Fate in</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 1.38;"> those hills around Lonoke County AR during those first decades or so of the twentieth century.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Alice Catherine Almond Woodiel</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My grandparents: Alice (1876-1926) and Lafayette (1871-1956) Woodiel. She (Alice Catherine Almond) and he (William Lafayette) were married 9 July 1891 at Lonoke AR. At the time, if the records are accurate and my math correct, he was about 20 and she about 15. Their first child, born in 1892 was an unnamed son that died apparently shortly after his birth. Their second child, Viola (perhaps the child pictured with her father) was born the following year, 6 July 1893.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In her 35 years of marriage Alice would give birth to 13 children. The first, a son born in 1892 would die during his first year and would be unnamed. A daughter Elizabeth, born in 1900, would die before her second year. Another son (1910) and a daughter (1911) would be unnamed as well as her last (1914) listed as "Child" Woodiel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Grazing over the length of their life spans I can't avoid contemplating our present fuss and preoccupation with health care and longevity. Of Alice and Lafayette's eight children that survived to adulthood, Viola would die at 17 and Fred at 25. Winnie would be killed in a </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">storm at 31. Mertie at 43 from cancer. Paul would die primarily from alcoholism at 58. Only three would survive to what today we call retirement age, Victor only barely at 67. My uncle John would live to be 74 and only my father Allie would live into his 80s, dying at Crockett's Bluff AR at the age of 87.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm compelled to wonder just how different the families of those of their direct line might be today had there been even a make-shift system of preventive health care available to poor folks during those year.</span></div>
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-28108167758239000772014-03-05T12:06:00.000-08:002014-03-05T12:11:29.873-08:00Walter Allen "Hoolie" Bowermaster 1932-2014<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">I have my former classmate Eunice M. (Ward) Brown to thank for passing along this program of the memorial service for Walter Bowermaster whom we both remember even though he was two years ahead of us at St. Charles High School.</span><br />
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Because he was three years older, Walter was not a close friend of mine, but he was one of a number of older boys we younger boys respected, because in those days they were worthy of respect. The commonplace social plague known today as bullying was both rare and short lived in those days at St. Charles High School, as I recall.. Older boys were generally charged by their parents and other adults in the larger community with the responsibility of "looking out" for younger boys. To behave otherwise, was, well, simply disgraceful.<br />
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Regardless of your class, however, in the "high school" of St. Charles in those days, we were generally a closely knit group with relatively little class "rank," with perhaps the exception of seniors, of course. Walter's fellow juniors included (as pictured in the yearbook) Jack Dempsey, Ruth Tuck, Jimmy Horton, Neva Graves, Doris Dawson, Charles Bisswanger, Leo Padgett, and Charles West.<br />
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This same year I was in the freshman class with twenty-one classmates. Sixteen of us would graduate the spring of 1953. - DPWDPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-10773234265641418792014-03-04T15:28:00.000-08:002014-03-04T15:28:30.497-08:00Vicki and Darrell and Schwab Store Museum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTg7f8q_GdZ7pRvOwXnAyzAsqgCMBvxaxtFC_z5-p5l7Fl3519wgYq6FwJnyb0Mnoc19RjveWgAnydRHyZs1KdnzrdpQpi99wwcGPmhM7vlgSWANEe9eyYPuDVP2RDBxeTPx9bUBhACE/s1600/Last+visit+with+Mother+text+013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTg7f8q_GdZ7pRvOwXnAyzAsqgCMBvxaxtFC_z5-p5l7Fl3519wgYq6FwJnyb0Mnoc19RjveWgAnydRHyZs1KdnzrdpQpi99wwcGPmhM7vlgSWANEe9eyYPuDVP2RDBxeTPx9bUBhACE/s1600/Last+visit+with+Mother+text+013.jpg" height="368" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Store after it was closed (1990s?) with the Post Office Attached: Vickie (Schwab) Gardner Post Mistress</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Over the more than half century since I last lived in Crockett's Bluff I've often been asked, a</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">fter I tell people who inquire where I was born and grew up</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">, just how many people lived in the Bluff. My reply is always an indefinite "it depends." I then go on to explain since there were no acknowledged city limits, the number of its residents would depend just how far down Rt. 153 in either direction one wished to go before you cease your census. To the south it would be when you found the first folks who claimed they lived in St. Charles or DeWitt -- about 10 or 15 miles. In the other direction toward Stuttgart, perhaps twice as far.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This old notion came to mind recently when during my most recent visit to Arkansas County a few months ago I stopped by Schwab's Store where I was greeted by Darrell Gardner, the son in law of Eddie Schwab who established and presided over the most general of general </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">stores in the areas for decades</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. More of a museum of sorts today, having been closed as a business in the late 1980s, the store remains, thanks to the care of Vicki and Darrell Gardner, a solid and spacial structure housing, amongst its eclectic collection, the original anvil used by the elder blacksmith Sebastian Schwab whom we all recall from our childhoods in the 1930s, as well as Darrell's recently acquired practically new Model A Ford and an assortment of tractors.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Darrell with his New Toy - Oct. 2013</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DPW and Vicki (Schwab) Gardner - Oct. 2011</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DPW and Darrell - Oct. 2011 - a true pot-belly</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sebastian's Major Tool</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Darrell and Vicki might properly be labeled the last true residents of Crockett's Bluff proper at the site of the long closed Schwab's Store that rests - as the Google Earth view below indicates - near the former residence of Cora Prange Swindler where Rt. 153 turns westward from the banks of the White River.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnd_JV_18kQvvi39816z48iNK4qJFAq5ue466X3A90GQQCZZUWtjF_OFz9p6phGP6wQOcZYiJtCaVXkbsZy-b1CYYcLs9_POhnpPjq2D0CbTd7BlBGvRHY03Af6GQA75HZeUvkUPElaU/s1600/DSCN0118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 13px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnd_JV_18kQvvi39816z48iNK4qJFAq5ue466X3A90GQQCZZUWtjF_OFz9p6phGP6wQOcZYiJtCaVXkbsZy-b1CYYcLs9_POhnpPjq2D0CbTd7BlBGvRHY03Af6GQA75HZeUvkUPElaU/s1600/DSCN0118.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even Model Tractors Welcome</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkoyit8muhrYkifQb90w1hx4HA4_6rP_wdwniWnjHoAJLMrXPlKvz_kOdiuGbQm-xvcgJkz_RBBOjPpbRhIH_UOsAULVkb96KRX4XKFAfU3jbtz8Zgy2pPy2dDxAkhAd8KVrtoY064hA/s1600/DSCN0115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 13px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkoyit8muhrYkifQb90w1hx4HA4_6rP_wdwniWnjHoAJLMrXPlKvz_kOdiuGbQm-xvcgJkz_RBBOjPpbRhIH_UOsAULVkb96KRX4XKFAfU3jbtz8Zgy2pPy2dDxAkhAd8KVrtoY064hA/s1600/DSCN0115.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everywhere the stuff of memories underneath Eddie's fan belt assortment.</td></tr>
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-39953797239021597352014-03-04T13:25:00.000-08:002018-06-23T13:54:16.712-07:00Prange Family Visit Videos 1986<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These videos, shared by Jim Prange, from the vast collection of Prange Family archives. Priceless. (Obviously incomplete, but open for enhancement, I hope.)<br />
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<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/7aN-dHG_kdE/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7aN-dHG_kdE?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7aN-dHG_kdE?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
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<span id="goog_1219891836"></span><span id="goog_1219891837"></span>DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-63142059111006560372014-02-28T12:53:00.000-08:002014-03-04T13:55:59.895-08:00The Water Tower: The Bluff's Central Landmark<table> <tbody>
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The Prange Brothers Water Tower<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXiOk4VpG52N2v0LlojtF1hXTLKWP9vUn0cBO9rmljpi6YZS1c87WCW1aP_4RB1p0OAGteId-1yviQfPh6GFLRk7ysXNbC5P2kd5jDqW5Bgfs9tns2BG0TDtsGP9lUOofYeyxK_ChJrw/s1600/Prange+water+tower+early+days.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXiOk4VpG52N2v0LlojtF1hXTLKWP9vUn0cBO9rmljpi6YZS1c87WCW1aP_4RB1p0OAGteId-1yviQfPh6GFLRk7ysXNbC5P2kd5jDqW5Bgfs9tns2BG0TDtsGP9lUOofYeyxK_ChJrw/s1600/Prange+water+tower+early+days.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div>
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1930s </div>
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When the Prange Brothers established a water tower in the late 1920s or early '30s apparently to insure fire protection for the nearby warehouses they had constructed overlooking the bluffs of the White River for which Crockett's Bluff was named, it became the trademark for the then lively settlement for at least the next fifty years. Visible clearly from more than five miles southward where Rt 153 intersected Rt 1 - known informally in the 1950s as Boyd's Corner - it dominated the skyline. There was nothing to equal it for many miles. Legend has it one who climbed to its circular balcony joined a relatively small group of folks adventurous and courageous enough to make the climb.<br />
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The oldest known images that survive - published first in David Prange's<i> Crockett's Bluff As I Remember It </i>- were made from its walkway platform by his cousin Louis Prange in 1930. "It stood as if a sentinel," writes David, "watching over the village of Crockett's Bluff, giving direction to those searching for the village while, at the same time, nurturing the two mammoth steam engines which powered the pumps that lifted water from the river onto the rice fields of the White River prairie."<br />
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These images<a href="http://crockettsbluff-dpw.blogspot.com/2011/12/crocketts-bluff-1930.html"> were posted elsewhere on this site several years ago:</a> <i>Crockett's Bluff: A 1930s View From Above.</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View to the North along the River.</td></tr>
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Looking north shows a relatively flourishing community on the banks of the White River: the Prange sawmill, the Lutheran church, and the Poole store.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View to the South out toward the prairie.</td></tr>
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On the right Schwab's Store and the wagon shed, and on the left the Inman store and, most significant, the irrigation canal that extended out across the prairie and the rice fields and served as a "swimming hole" for every child in the Bluff well up into the 1960s and 70s. It was where we learned to swim.</div>
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In his memoir David Prange goes on to describe the bravery required and the rite of passage acknowledged by those managing to make it to the top of the water tower, approximately one hundred feet above grade. "I envied those that accomplished that feat, not for their bravery, which I considered to be bordering on stupidity, but for the view they had witnessed. What a magnificent sight that must have been." Successful adventurers were plied with questions: "Could you see beyond the north bend in the river? . . . Could you see Voss Lake? . . . With each 'yes' I would think, without daring to repeat the thought audibly, 'It's not possible, I don't believe it!"<br />
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For reasons that are not clear, a decision was made by August Prange, the last descendant to remain on the property, to dismantle the tower sometime in the late 1970s or early 80s. So, we are left with these images.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Prange and Schwab Stores</td></tr>
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The most noteworthy view that I've come across (above) that follows those made by Louis Prange was <a href="http://crockettsbluff-dpw.blogspot.com/2011/08/schwabs-store-center-of-activity-for.html">made by Eddie Schwab himself of his store</a> and the area around it - the Prange store in the foreground and the gardens and out buildings, including the blacksmith forge shed of his father Sebastian Schwab and the gardens and field beyond.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQJmHyCBJ0sZcMuzMyiThoqDaHFwuRqiOKc1VxVfpfIPcumlNy5kpGcA6UN9MyFzl85CyjPsvbSBhXE5tXjdycr5CS-lYFI7Ce1KAy2rq7j7WxRuJ6C9Sqt64ALkUZmakKAYx13kkC00/s1600/Back+of+Schwab's+Store+50s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQJmHyCBJ0sZcMuzMyiThoqDaHFwuRqiOKc1VxVfpfIPcumlNy5kpGcA6UN9MyFzl85CyjPsvbSBhXE5tXjdycr5CS-lYFI7Ce1KAy2rq7j7WxRuJ6C9Sqt64ALkUZmakKAYx13kkC00/s1600/Back+of+Schwab's+Store+50s.jpg" height="251" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View westward behind the Schwab and Prange Stores</td></tr>
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Like so many other images on this site I have Jim Prange to thank for this view of the area behind the Schwab store also obviously made from the water tower by an unknown photographer he gleaned from his family collection. Both Vickie (Schwab) Gardner and Peggy (Schwab) Browning have memories of residing in the small cottage at the left during the early days of their marriages.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim Prange as a wee lad in the l950s in the area above</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJANIyQSFOBBcZtBaE-pliOeSJx6bHY9gIpLmcouJCyz6lrT-pnYfQhuJyD5drFXPprsZPAp0Vga7d7nux7yel54RykTQcQdtv6YLUb6SwyWBplWH-nfrqKJKsOdR-syQKYjL8sVQiCzI/s1600/CB+Prange+Tower.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJANIyQSFOBBcZtBaE-pliOeSJx6bHY9gIpLmcouJCyz6lrT-pnYfQhuJyD5drFXPprsZPAp0Vga7d7nux7yel54RykTQcQdtv6YLUb6SwyWBplWH-nfrqKJKsOdR-syQKYjL8sVQiCzI/s1600/CB+Prange+Tower.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scan of a dusty slide I made in the 1970s</td></tr>
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-45543240069219524062014-02-26T13:13:00.000-08:002014-02-26T13:13:52.479-08:00Preston Ferry Housebook from 1920s or '30s<br />
The following image was forwarded to Denise Parkinson, author of the recently published <i>Daughter of the White River,</i> by Patricia Gunn in response to a note she had written related to the legendary story of Helen Spence, the subject of her work. Gunn's great-great aunt Vickie "Vicie" Russell is pictured on porch of their house boat at Preston Ferry near Casscoe, Arkansas, just a few miles upstream from Crockett's Bluff. The family of Helen Spence, who shot her father's killer in a DeWitt, AR courtroom in 1931, sprang directly from the river culture of the communities of White River inhabitants of houseboats such as the one pictured here in the 1920s and '30s<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpZYatcfzMcBqATcHXwtl8dkn53g_oPldUzpE1VMwkuJ_Hlzz80DVJguty_Wj2gXk33pzXrhjVi-8RmOv9XILM0q8pKfUIy7havh3VdwugbPJiLgIDW7B4d9HB2K-oa67G6nBOeo-x7s/s1600/'Vicie+Russell+Preston+Ferry+-original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpZYatcfzMcBqATcHXwtl8dkn53g_oPldUzpE1VMwkuJ_Hlzz80DVJguty_Wj2gXk33pzXrhjVi-8RmOv9XILM0q8pKfUIy7havh3VdwugbPJiLgIDW7B4d9HB2K-oa67G6nBOeo-x7s/s1600/'Vicie+Russell+Preston+Ferry+-original.jpg" height="465" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vickie (Vicie) Russell, great-great aunt of Patricia Gunn , Preston Ferry, Casscot, AR</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPWRzJC8imlMhMta8r0L_D06JQK_BeRnyoMZ6YBeW5agr_KtGkzq5WwQKVgkUWmueV4WQNdLs033Nx9NCU6D7YZCoBpgsS426I9_Xc_PyRrZftpmIERPwinprGKp-oVSfOpC_TZZgmVk/s1600/'Vicie'+Russell+Back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPWRzJC8imlMhMta8r0L_D06JQK_BeRnyoMZ6YBeW5agr_KtGkzq5WwQKVgkUWmueV4WQNdLs033Nx9NCU6D7YZCoBpgsS426I9_Xc_PyRrZftpmIERPwinprGKp-oVSfOpC_TZZgmVk/s1600/'Vicie'+Russell+Back.jpg" height="124" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the back of the above image.</td></tr>
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Much can be learned from images of such houseboats. Would that the above image, a scan of a photograph apparently, was an original clear copy. At first glance, however, it strikes the eye as a very well maintained structure, not on logs, it would appear, but on a constructed wooden hull; and the somewhat larger than usual boat moored along side, complete with a chair and curtains of a sort, fairly fancy, I'd say. And a harsh and thick mostly willow grove along the bank.</div>
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We would welcome images of other houseboats and the stories that accompany them that are lying unacknowledged in who knows how many personal memories and albums across the country. Just forward them as email attachments from scans. Photos will be unharmed and gladly returned.</div>
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Patricia Gunn riverentpg@gmail.com</div>
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Dale Woodiel dpwoodiel@gmail.com</div>
DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-19676987418086859672014-01-31T14:00:00.000-08:002015-05-20T11:01:02.117-07:00Some Prange Family Memories in Crockett's Bluff<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Some Prange Family Memories in Crockett's Bluff</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">by Jim Prange</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The following article was originally published in the <i>Grand Prairie Historical Bulletin</i>, Volume 56, Number 2 (October 2013). Jim Prange is the grandson of Adolf and Edna Prange who lived within sight of the Woodiel house during the first decades of the twentieth century until they moved to California in 1944. Jim, the son of their son James, has been designated by their living descendants the official family historian.</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: x-small;">(a double click on the text below should produce a PDF of Jim's text)</span><br />
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&pid=gmail&attid=0.1.1&thid=143a2394af3ae2ec&mt=application/pdf&authuser=0&url=https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/%3fui=2&ik=b398784609&view=att&th=143a2394af3ae2ec&attid=0.1.1&disp=safe&zw&sig=AHIEtbTJWah2HjnLZxWdAqzhvji2gPJlBw">https://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&pid=gmail&attid=0.1.1&thid=143a2394af3ae2ec&mt=application/pdf&authuser=0&url=https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/%3fui=2&ik=b398784609&view=att&th=143a2394af3ae2ec&attid=0.1.1&disp=safe&zw&sig=AHIEtbTJWah2HjnLZxWdAqzhvji2gPJlBw</a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Prange Store with Bethlehem Lutheran Church in the distance - late 1930s</td></tr>
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-21276622107214342462013-11-27T10:16:00.000-08:002014-12-28T08:46:03.808-08:00The Henry Prange Family Residence and Barn: Crockett's Bluff's Oldest Surviving Structures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My recent </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">visit to Arkansas County was more hurried than I had hoped but it did include stops at DeWitt for a book signing event, at St. Charles for a stop at the cemetery and several old and abandoned structures that were alive and significant in the 1950s, and at Crockett's Bluff for a visit to the old family home site.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had been asked by Denise Parkinson to write a foreword to her <i>Daughter of the White River, </i>an updated defense, one could say, of Helen Spence, the subject of one of the great county legends who was secretly buried in the St. Charles cemetery where, though I was unable to find her grave I did find the one of the Knowlton family that included Bob who was a friend and classmate for many years. The walk around the old home place - all remnants of the old house now gone - was strange but satisfying, memories emerging at every turn like pop-up notices on my mobile phone.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFPiQfIeDIBkR_nG9q2iSah1NX3VS31OCM46QV_qVp3PMzy_x-LCf3zv-OUwoptc6a_ugEu6SFKYb7xZO2hu35E07O0XLaFG7xz6dx4cWsvXgUtPbvRPPYqWLNdUeDbFOA8yburLYkn0/s1600/scan0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFPiQfIeDIBkR_nG9q2iSah1NX3VS31OCM46QV_qVp3PMzy_x-LCf3zv-OUwoptc6a_ugEu6SFKYb7xZO2hu35E07O0XLaFG7xz6dx4cWsvXgUtPbvRPPYqWLNdUeDbFOA8yburLYkn0/s320/scan0001.jpg" height="320" width="192" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After turning northward from Rt. 1 on to Rt. 153 that afternoon the image that emerged just above the skyline was that of the Prange Bros water tower that was clearly visible from that five mile marker to the bend of the White River where it stood. Apparently it was removed about the time Schwab's Store that it looked down upon closed. Fortunately, the structure of the store still stands, and I find it near to impossible to pass without stopping.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Hey there! I was just thinking of you the other day."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lucky for me, Darrell Gardner, the son in law of Eddie Schwab who established and managed the store through its many decades, was holding the fort.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He had recently found some interesting inscriptions written on the rafters and walls of the old Prange barn that rests just a hundred yards or so from the store, and he thought it might be fit material for this web site. An hour or so later I completely agreed.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48A4Px3ePQhwhscIneeRqVongwwQIkkyj1AmOOiwB-Pdn1Ki89HLiXmJfCea4-wFLQnQnfLmMwR_ZF74p_rhS-YNQOMuSFQ2XTI2TK6EIADR5swnCUBMND_OL5K2pMVVarjOBFIxJsOQ/s1600/CB+Barn+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48A4Px3ePQhwhscIneeRqVongwwQIkkyj1AmOOiwB-Pdn1Ki89HLiXmJfCea4-wFLQnQnfLmMwR_ZF74p_rhS-YNQOMuSFQ2XTI2TK6EIADR5swnCUBMND_OL5K2pMVVarjOBFIxJsOQ/s640/CB+Barn+1.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prange barn constructed about 1900 (Vickie Gardner photo)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Clearly, along with the once spacious home of "Miss Cora" Prange, apparently married to the barn fifty yards or so to the north, Schwab's Store remains one of the oldest structures still standing in the Bluff, and for me associated with the center of activity during my childhood and teenage years. It has, however, become fairly certain, thanks in part to Darrell's keen observations, it is not <i>the</i> oldest</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmsOJ91-navs7Nc_1dlXJvrVRZU-YKwUPP4cT6HXbMNcTadKRuY_9Q3yoOK-YyS5uuw6nn53n_qTcOC7IPe2j1G9-DHMK4U_ybHEUBebMU5t8J48ojW0FvOxMo_uzKuPBWouaMGy_CED0/s1600/Crockett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmsOJ91-navs7Nc_1dlXJvrVRZU-YKwUPP4cT6HXbMNcTadKRuY_9Q3yoOK-YyS5uuw6nn53n_qTcOC7IPe2j1G9-DHMK4U_ybHEUBebMU5t8J48ojW0FvOxMo_uzKuPBWouaMGy_CED0/s640/Crockett.jpg" height="484" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsCK3qoDYaPrgeHRzNsT9ZzC5_SfqQJO3-3wcFF_w37vDa6qxA9syJVcN4G6olzXve4ozPVT3fTjm2scMdZa_MnJjUq4V7WuAIu_G0XDuX3e5Ba8Ns7if93kWYPDoAIZNgUxsY4D9fuAw/s1600/CB+Barn+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"> </a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This original Henry Prange family barn rests solidly still - half its roof visible on the Google Earth image - a few yards west between Schwab's Store and the Prange residence. It was the scribbled </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">inscriptions within it on its walls and rafters that caught Darrell's eye, particularly the 1916 dates and autographs posted there with brushes in apparently the black stove-polish-like that was used to mark the Prange logo on the rice sacks stored there </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">in the early decades of the 1900s. If it was a functioning barn at that date, it had to have been built somewhat earlier, and there's no other structure of any kind in the area known to date back before 1900.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Carl Heinrich Prange in the cement floor of his barn.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There is, however, a potentially enlightening clue resting literally at the end of the lane from the Prange house on the east side of Rt. 153, an historical marker noting that Henry Prange, the builder of both the house and the barn, grew in his front yard the first - apparently miniature - rice field of the area in 1906.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1G3fLvQfeo97KXaZ-nQi_8T_icrnOM_TcEuODWvpRJ3jGWennuNmCYchn1c5eRQd4VRqXfuGV_Rt__5G-oYoFD5rrL0W1xvDFTPjwDgT1AeTmkgN0nkP6_3N4lK065mv0Un-bGH1HMU/s1600/101_1241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1G3fLvQfeo97KXaZ-nQi_8T_icrnOM_TcEuODWvpRJ3jGWennuNmCYchn1c5eRQd4VRqXfuGV_Rt__5G-oYoFD5rrL0W1xvDFTPjwDgT1AeTmkgN0nkP6_3N4lK065mv0Un-bGH1HMU/s1600/101_1241.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grand Prairie Historical Society Marker</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1G3fLvQfeo97KXaZ-nQi_8T_icrnOM_TcEuODWvpRJ3jGWennuNmCYchn1c5eRQd4VRqXfuGV_Rt__5G-oYoFD5rrL0W1xvDFTPjwDgT1AeTmkgN0nkP6_3N4lK065mv0Un-bGH1HMU/s1600/101_1241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZd4RNA93guRBLhcSii8VOOVTrftUHbpdAvmpn9ael-JK3RwfOEoeN7WYkx07P8tfubzDpRZVQZHlB-ilt47v5RlRbmdKi9liUZtB9tMrD4oIfqyKB4kicTjYDwInaf9ENKHzNswkSLls/s1600/13609687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> It is known that Henry Prange lived southward out Rt. 153 from the Bluff on what is now known as Wiedner Road, near the old Lutheran Cemetery, before, one can assume, the present dwelling was constructed. Was the barn built for practical reasons before the house? If by 1916 or a bit afterward, rice was being grown to the extent that it was being stacked high enough in this </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">barn to allow Henry's son Theo and their friend George Kline to write (in 1919) their </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">names at the rafter level, then he had indeed become, as Jim Prange has noted elsewhere, "the rice guy." </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But here's where the minor mystery re the barn and the house begins, says Jim Prange, the </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> "official" Prange Family Historian: "Since Henry Prange (or someone did) put his name and year inside the barn, I am curious . . . as to whether or not he did something similar on the house. . . . At this point I think we are safe in saying that the house is 'about' a hundred years old. Which comes first, the house or the barn. "</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">By the late 1920s or early 30s there would be a warehouse constructed only a few hun</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">dred yards east across the irrigation canal on the bluff at the bend of the river visible </span><a href="http://crockettsbluff-dpw.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2013-05-16T13:08:00-07:00&max-results=7" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">in an early photograph, along with a chute for sliding sacks of rice on the barge of a steamboat.</a> </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrdRSEin0a3eZBcXejgM3DIHwuFkvBUxf2FylttAL4eWnDv2yatZR7oZg_jA2ock1dHHKPeiM4-i1gcJtOF0K2uy5KGVol778dQcPjj-M758oJyXIWdRvEvToonspEzgo-gV8BI0Osfc/s1600/DSCN0129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrdRSEin0a3eZBcXejgM3DIHwuFkvBUxf2FylttAL4eWnDv2yatZR7oZg_jA2ock1dHHKPeiM4-i1gcJtOF0K2uy5KGVol778dQcPjj-M758oJyXIWdRvEvToonspEzgo-gV8BI0Osfc/s400/DSCN0129.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sturdy construction with shingled roof originally.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfLiyotMbhHgTNo4bl2bYeumon20BYevsvCZTMXsGMd_ZffUzn5tzJs8oGZt_tPWNYzCH0FITNXN1SokUGtJXnCpvuPElHK4Qv7HZEwowV30CzafVcffXtkgggs3Q43H26h9ruPSOtdl4/s1600/DSCN0125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfLiyotMbhHgTNo4bl2bYeumon20BYevsvCZTMXsGMd_ZffUzn5tzJs8oGZt_tPWNYzCH0FITNXN1SokUGtJXnCpvuPElHK4Qv7HZEwowV30CzafVcffXtkgggs3Q43H26h9ruPSOtdl4/s400/DSCN0125.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">George Kline signature "Fall 1919"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgiaZEsB88jgdKZcuLCR0l9qyGl-8rivdcZqYeo0Vwkwisq1hDi-wqfHY8o3VfAmGFFFc5Z0tj9bzMdebCKTOAn7KOKGV8yaR8RqaijI8msZkWjeFrolFYbaXQrbfE2S6v5pY3v7CyZY/s1600/DSCN0127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgiaZEsB88jgdKZcuLCR0l9qyGl-8rivdcZqYeo0Vwkwisq1hDi-wqfHY8o3VfAmGFFFc5Z0tj9bzMdebCKTOAn7KOKGV8yaR8RqaijI8msZkWjeFrolFYbaXQrbfE2S6v5pY3v7CyZY/s320/DSCN0127.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unknown initials.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wFMIMwrGc6vbAHFFx25ojUqOZcA4zhkf7sasZg0bdlh8ahi2SK0JzJbNm6p5B59BsQYX4PVrJKlPwJ7n5gyJfs3NOoRxAaMM0QfYaS-ibXc5_lnMwzGsECAaLJitNVVtH9vDeWsBPxY/s1600/DSCN0123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wFMIMwrGc6vbAHFFx25ojUqOZcA4zhkf7sasZg0bdlh8ahi2SK0JzJbNm6p5B59BsQYX4PVrJKlPwJ7n5gyJfs3NOoRxAaMM0QfYaS-ibXc5_lnMwzGsECAaLJitNVVtH9vDeWsBPxY/s320/DSCN0123.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Incomplete 1916 signature.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKisYHK8njwfNV-35VekNhfOgb5wLv68F581WgllC5qJrFigP1YiKvj0HjZkm7IIdgdXt9em66eVI7biaGQeLYdvxFoLhUUDbanCtpEQzk16BADwEFy03_1vzft9b8_vhF9_sr8RZA5rU/s1600/DSCN0130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKisYHK8njwfNV-35VekNhfOgb5wLv68F581WgllC5qJrFigP1YiKvj0HjZkm7IIdgdXt9em66eVI7biaGQeLYdvxFoLhUUDbanCtpEQzk16BADwEFy03_1vzft9b8_vhF9_sr8RZA5rU/s320/DSCN0130.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Later modifications around sturdy beam.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsCK3qoDYaPrgeHRzNsT9ZzC5_SfqQJO3-3wcFF_w37vDa6qxA9syJVcN4G6olzXve4ozPVT3fTjm2scMdZa_MnJjUq4V7WuAIu_G0XDuX3e5Ba8Ns7if93kWYPDoAIZNgUxsY4D9fuAw/s1600/CB+Barn+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsCK3qoDYaPrgeHRzNsT9ZzC5_SfqQJO3-3wcFF_w37vDa6qxA9syJVcN4G6olzXve4ozPVT3fTjm2scMdZa_MnJjUq4V7WuAIu_G0XDuX3e5Ba8Ns7if93kWYPDoAIZNgUxsY4D9fuAw/s320/CB+Barn+2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One has to walk inside to appreciate the space.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rice bags being loaded from a warehouse more convenient than the original barn near the Prange house.</td></tr>
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-44804075355726605382013-09-25T07:46:00.000-07:002013-09-25T07:46:13.886-07:00Two 1920s Images from Prange Files<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4_IVjRqbd3P-QCtkJjT2ZT88YCR_wubh7cOy8XYRx8NJ21Nj-D8XwjtOKRKWKw7aUZ3F2ik0uXfH21YI-DM0YJoyTHwZn9RN-zKCjIojwyNhs62ZgGl4BuUvUxR5cu9Im5_IEuu2bLg/s1600/Children+see+saw.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4_IVjRqbd3P-QCtkJjT2ZT88YCR_wubh7cOy8XYRx8NJ21Nj-D8XwjtOKRKWKw7aUZ3F2ik0uXfH21YI-DM0YJoyTHwZn9RN-zKCjIojwyNhs62ZgGl4BuUvUxR5cu9Im5_IEuu2bLg/s1600/Children+see+saw.jpg" /></a></div>
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Since the Prange family operated the major saw mill of the area, planks for a make shift see-saw would have been no problem. A fine length board would have been relatively easy to acquire. Given the height of the fence at the key balancing point, however, the scene looks like an adventure, perhaps overseen by Louie? standing at the critical station. Since it would appear unlikely the picture was made by anyone but an adult, the activity must have been supervised.<br />
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Jim Prange, to whom I owe this image from the 1920s, identifies the middle girl on the sea-saw as Esther and the girl in front of her as Mary Elizabeth. "I could guess on the boys, but it would only be guesses. Is that Louie standing tall on the fence? Perhaps I see Richard, Erwin and my dad - perhaps."<br />
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If this is a view of the lower parts of the Bluffs including "The Hole in the Wall," it would have clearly been during a summer season when the river was very low, since I cannot remember the sandbar across the way being so exposed and extended. 1920s?<br /><br />
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<span id="goog_1763543693"></span><span id="goog_1763543694"></span><br />DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-7895458016105254452013-09-23T08:49:00.000-07:002013-09-25T07:13:48.751-07:001920s Crockett's Bluff School Bus and 1930s School Registers<br />
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This image was linked to <a href="http://crockettsbluff-dpw.blogspot.com/2012/01/crocketts-bluff-school-bus-1930s.html">an earlier post re school buses</a> in the Bluff.</div>
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I'm indebted to Carol Keithley Baird who forwarded to me a box of historical papers gathered from her mother Hallie Keithley's collection that included two School Registers from the Crockett's Bluff School from the 1936-37 and 1938-39 school years. Folded into one of the registers was a clipping from DeWitt Era Enterprise (undated) with this image of the school's bus:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">"<b>MODEL T SCHOOL BUS </b>-- This picture was taken in the 1920's gives a good description of the transportation at Crockett's Bluff for school age children during the 1920's. The driver is Mrs. Mary Dallas Turner who now live(s) in the Wynne and Fair Oak area. Note the curtains on the bus which were rolled up in the summer and down in the colder months of the year. Duke Graves of Crocketts Bluff, who brought the picture by the Era-Enterprise office said that he remembered when he and his wife, Lillian, rode the bus in 1927."</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My brother Shelby First Grade 1936</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My brother Bill Fourth Grade 1936</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnh_unjo8PTObTS-91B1k7PFgCyVQH8DsV1Qt9yMoVnbSXGE6lzgnrD3i8outB-Y9sjedv_92RXqIlfafsMoRSbO9OpDZtle9oTrOPevRMtHjz2_G6kubJYJmPTC7i-VQBQRsqlFA6pZw/s1600/scan0005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnh_unjo8PTObTS-91B1k7PFgCyVQH8DsV1Qt9yMoVnbSXGE6lzgnrD3i8outB-Y9sjedv_92RXqIlfafsMoRSbO9OpDZtle9oTrOPevRMtHjz2_G6kubJYJmPTC7i-VQBQRsqlFA6pZw/s320/scan0005.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charles Prange Fourth Grade 1936</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Newman and Betty Ann Prange First Grade 1936</td></tr>
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DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-16915632098914739222013-08-04T07:30:00.002-07:002013-08-04T07:30:58.478-07:00DeWitt Square 1898<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJm7axK5wSrOkNyuKh_02LXqvs0RYjLW-TEtl_IAul1FFrBR_Xf6LQ_tH2u4Qg1Mt3z4wUKE5E4ZE2YQOgI61TmaQqEE_W5z6BJn36rdQA-DF_wVtf7kHRViKzk4Hyvds1dUmnNWqJ-U/s1600/DeWitt1898a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJm7axK5wSrOkNyuKh_02LXqvs0RYjLW-TEtl_IAul1FFrBR_Xf6LQ_tH2u4Qg1Mt3z4wUKE5E4ZE2YQOgI61TmaQqEE_W5z6BJn36rdQA-DF_wVtf7kHRViKzk4Hyvds1dUmnNWqJ-U/s640/DeWitt1898a.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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An 1898 scene in the DeWitt town square forwarded to me by James Prange via Bob Moody. A close and careful examination will reveal just how charged with history is this image. There appears, near the left-center of the group, to be a man standing on a platform of some sort that suggests perhaps a political -- or perhaps religious -- gathering, but little else is known about it.<br />
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However, it tells us a great deal about the community at that time.<br />
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<br />DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-90699716387344480882013-06-26T14:11:00.000-07:002013-06-26T14:11:51.957-07:00Ancient Images of Crockett's Bluff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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Obviously among the oldest images on this site, these are also courtesy of James Prange, having been passed along to him by Bob Moody. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeqnxD70BLvXocsTXE80MV4FYQuhqLirneZhjEPPLG6dGSrI0wj8XLHHPArgVzcHxwxjSD2je61Pq-2CRbvmcEqLgzaXK4NaoYPvjcJnmG_mJNS0g-5mywgKPmymbEuv6RviHCnsocTEI/s1600/img075_Snapseed+Fixed+staged+scene+of+early+family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeqnxD70BLvXocsTXE80MV4FYQuhqLirneZhjEPPLG6dGSrI0wj8XLHHPArgVzcHxwxjSD2je61Pq-2CRbvmcEqLgzaXK4NaoYPvjcJnmG_mJNS0g-5mywgKPmymbEuv6RviHCnsocTEI/s640/img075_Snapseed+Fixed+staged+scene+of+early+family.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This image pictures members of the Prange family, a loaded hay wagon, a buggy, and a most impressive windmill whose blades are blurred and operating. James notes that on the back of this print is inscribed "Lorenz Farm, Crocketts Bluff. Wm H. Prange, CF and sons." Though identification is difficult, he notes that the man standing by the buggy at the right is Chris Prange, and the man in the middle is William Henry Prange. The small boy sitting on the bales, he speculates is his grandfather Adolph. The two older boys are, he speculates, Herman and William John Prange. The very small boy standing to the right of William Henry, he thinks is Walter Prange and the woman holding the baby may be Anna Prange, wife of William Henry. There are also two young girls, one feeding the chickens and another standing near the white horse whose face is blurred, unable apparently to remain relative still for the photographer. Unfortunately, the Lorenz family is a bit of a mystery to us all.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAKNrrZ12ae_KTDMKPunaUIuQLLG7-t1zgmXcE-5VYOAMUsmwoFYJjkITFCFo7Ik_5PWn8JIOMalx0mhc8GZA7uYcml7zZyHUu_jPCtTqMwfZkklqkFkq5Z5XlmhAJShZiw-uB0Md9k8/s1600/img075a_Snapseed+detail+of+buggy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAKNrrZ12ae_KTDMKPunaUIuQLLG7-t1zgmXcE-5VYOAMUsmwoFYJjkITFCFo7Ik_5PWn8JIOMalx0mhc8GZA7uYcml7zZyHUu_jPCtTqMwfZkklqkFkq5Z5XlmhAJShZiw-uB0Md9k8/s320/img075a_Snapseed+detail+of+buggy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris Prange and his buggy, horses, and woodpile.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqzx8R863wSgF6bgtV-cjo_1gMj869bfE9HaUpFMUnjOHlIXw9nRluvDQflAS7Ug5YZAHnGZNd3uN5aRymO2WB1XNF6Ge9yXr5JPY2gH9Ec3Rzs_R-oJsSmDLf0XsCBcReJMKqk-3_Wec/s1600/Prange+hay+bailing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqzx8R863wSgF6bgtV-cjo_1gMj869bfE9HaUpFMUnjOHlIXw9nRluvDQflAS7Ug5YZAHnGZNd3uN5aRymO2WB1XNF6Ge9yXr5JPY2gH9Ec3Rzs_R-oJsSmDLf0XsCBcReJMKqk-3_Wec/s640/Prange+hay+bailing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Prange hay bailing operation, Crockett's Bluff, Arkansas<br />
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This image, and a number of others, have been passed along to James Prange by Bob Moody whose relatives lived in Crockett's Bluff, along with the Pranges and Woodiels. James has provided the following identifications: R-L: The boy sitting on the hay bales on the far right, I believe, is my grandfather Adolph Prange. Second from the right is Chris Prange. The man in the center, I believe, is William Henry Prange. The man fourth from the right is either Herman Prange or William John Prange. I am certain that it is one of them. They have a very similar facial structure and zooming in on the photo doesn't help much; it just get fuzzier. I have no idea who the person is fifth from the right. My grandfather was born in 1891, so if I am correct that the boy is him, this picture would have been taken in the very early 1900s.<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yphvDQyo3VU">A YouTube video of this baler in operation.</a></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-size: x-small;">Fourth Annual Northeast Animal-Power Field Days at Tunbridge,Vermont, Oct. 18 2010</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The best of the remaining photos of the Prange Sawmill"<br />
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<br />DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503723051350896.post-16451268899776725282013-06-08T06:00:00.002-07:002013-06-17T18:26:41.173-07:00Helen Spence: A Legend of the White River<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Where Legends Begin</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L-R: Cicero Spence, Helen Spence, Joe Black, followed by two unknown boys, a black dog and the rifle of an unknown figure.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">In <a href="http://www.encyclopediaofarkansas.net/encyclopedia/entry-detail.aspx?entryID=5376">her article in The Encyclopedia of Arkansas History & Culture</a>, Denise Parkinson provides the following information re this picture. Her source is L.C. (Lamuel Cressie) Brown a childhood friend of Spence. It was passed on to him by John Black the young man in the dark cap seated to Helen's left by the deer head. According to Brown, his late wife's family had a photography studio in DeWitt. Hugh Bowers was the photographer. According to L.C., it was staged in the 1920s at a barn in St. Charles where trappers and buyers came to deal in hides and furs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">This picture is in many ways a typical example of the emerging popularity of the still relatively new photographic technology. Such images were carefully staged to reflect the subjects occupation, possessions, and accomplishments. In New England about this time,the Howes Brothers developed a major industry touring the countrysides recording workers and families -- always in the midst of their work or in front of their homes, and their recorded images reflected the individuals in their finery among their possessions. So it is here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Here we have Cicero Spence with his young daughter Helen, three young boys, a black dog, and the knee and rifle of another figure. On the wall behind them hang hides - mostly raccoon but one apparently that of a deer whose head with antlers rests at Helen's left. At Cicero's right rests a rifle between two (perhaps mink) hides. He wears a cap to which a carbide hunting lamp could be attached and a ammunition vest partially filled with shotgun shells, casually holding a pistol in his right hand. Helen holds what appears to be a rag doll with a roughly sewn image of a face. It must be winter or late fall, since Helen appears to be wearing "long johns" under her dress. John Black is wearing dark gloves; the second boy has his hands in his pockets. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">On the wall among the stretched hides hang two hunting horns. Whether these are for decoration in this "hunting" scene is unclear. Hunters would not in these days use such horns for holding gun powder, but they might well have carried them "corked" at the open end for keeping precious items such as dry matches. The interesting wooden box resting at the lower right with the image of a horse or donkey on its side is a box that originally contained Brown's Mule Chewing Tobacco. (It puzzled me for a while until I was able to verify it, thanks to Google images, with several fin images of similar ones.</span></div>
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A Second Image</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik5JXvW8M-17V5NcHSpbvOIF-TDbs96WOQ3IKRQp1AYwJQ8WU_lzqungF3l55XNBUGdKWQp8I0yFb74hAUCo_QFC3uRPoSeIFyIKMPZenawX8L3XoNGahEvJBbBNPj7uCpTWHWbyK43Ro/s1600/Cicero+and+Helen+Spence_Snapseed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="608" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik5JXvW8M-17V5NcHSpbvOIF-TDbs96WOQ3IKRQp1AYwJQ8WU_lzqungF3l55XNBUGdKWQp8I0yFb74hAUCo_QFC3uRPoSeIFyIKMPZenawX8L3XoNGahEvJBbBNPj7uCpTWHWbyK43Ro/s640/Cicero+and+Helen+Spence_Snapseed.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Prange's Snapseed Enhancement of the image.</td></tr>
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<br />DPW Notes From a Journalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16041033017163937754noreply@blogger.com0