Friday, October 03, 2003

Ira Eugene Cowen


The enemy had bound and gagged the faithful soldier. His hands were tightly strapped so that he had no chance to fight his way free. The torture ravaged on him would be unbearable to even the strongest among us, yet he fought to maintain an awareness of his surroundings, boldly struggling not to succumb to the will of his unseen assassin.

In his despair to escape the pain he allowed his eyes to roll to the back of his head. When his vision cleared he plainly saw that he was sitting at the knees of the most beautifully leather-skinned full blood Cherokee he had ever seen. This massive giant gingerly picked up his young great-grandson and reminded him, and his cousins, of the families’ removal from their home in Tennessee; the seemingly endless days and nights spent traveling to their farm in Oklahoma. Great-grandpa Stone reminded him to honor and respect the mother earth and all of creation – that they were made for each other, while at the same time encouraging him to grow closer to the Jesus that their family clan had been introduced to so many generations before.

As his grandpa took his hand to walk out into the surrounding woods to fish a tributary of the North Canadian, he fell against a fallen stump and the pain jolted him back into reality.

The searing cut of his captor’s torture was causing his back to spasm uncontrollably. He wanted so badly to setup, to ease his pain, but his bonds would not allow him to do so. In agony he laid back down, breathed deeply, and his eyes rolled even more deeply into the back of his head.

When he came to he was gasping for breath. The entire county of Seminole, Oklahoma was swept up in a whirlwind of choking dust. Many of his friends and family had headed west to California. But his parent had decided to stay in Oklahoma. With his father’s ability to run a farm and the ingenuity of his mother to cook a meal from almost nothing, they were surviving the dust bowl while many had not been able to.

At fifteen he felt himself a burden to be a child and was willing to take on some responsibility to help rear his younger siblings. But to do so he would have to leave behind his two favorite past times: fishing and hunting. While the money he earned running his traps each morning was certainly helpful, he knew he could do more.

All to frequently young Ira was finding skunks and other rodents in his traps instead of the more valuable raccoon, possum, and mink. And skunks were such a pain to remove. All too frequently he would find himself gasping for air as he tried to out maneuver a spraying varmint.

Frequently he and the classmates of the run down one room schoolhouse he attended would choke back tears all morning while the stench of a fresh spray dissipated.

As he gasped for each breath he would struggle to remove the gag that was forced upon him. While he could breath, and each breath brought life, the gag still scared him. It impeded his ability to communicate, not that the enemy wanted him to speak, but would allow it if he could. As he struggled to speak, to scream, all he could emit was a whisper – I love you.

I love you … I love you ... I - LOVE – YOU! - I – LOVE – YOU! echoed back. The young 16-year-old loved the rugged wilderness of Wyoming. He could shout into the valley once in the morning and hear his echoing voice all day long. The Civilian Conservation Corps allowed him, and many other Okies, a chance to work on government projects for 6 months at a time and send money back home to their families who were in need. Being treated like, and working as hard as a man, made the barley 16 year-old Ira grow up very quickly. He knew the work he was doing was important, and the money he was able to send home made a difference, but the virgin ruggedness of the Wyoming wilderness was calling to the very depths his heart, “come home. Come run through my valleys and play in my stream”. His heart ached to do just that, to fish and hunt all day long, but back in Oklahoma – back in his hills and his valleys.

His heart, his body, did ache so. The forced electric charges being applied to his body not only cruelly tortured him, but also sustained him. He wanted to leave his body so badly, to escape his evil jailer, but he did not have the strength yet.

When his eyed rolled back into place the Island of Guam was in sight. With the uncertainty of the draft looming, he had volunteered for the Navy. He left his new wife and child behind so that he could get his service to his country out of the way. Opposed to the possibility of actually having to kill anyone, Japanese or not, he choose assignments to support those who had no such objections. While he enjoyed working as a radio dispatcher, it was planes, specifically the B-24, which captured his heart. He longed to be a pilot. To soar with the eagles. To zoom across the open expanses. To fly above the earth and into the heavens.

And then he was. When everyone was quite, when there were no more stories to listen to. There he was. Flying above the earth and into the heavens, in The Heaven. He had escaped his tormentor. The body that had betrayed him could no longer hold him back.

And he was not alone. Clans of tribesman greeted him: Cherokee, Scots, and Irishmen. A wife who had made the journey decades earlier. Mothers, Fathers, and friends: all now his siblings sitting at the knee of their collective Father who told them about his creation and thanked them for honoring his Son in the way they lived their lives.
And then he turned to walk through the valley of this new wilderness, and if you listen well you can hear him voice still echoing in your own heart.. I Love you!

My Grandfather had lived a rich and full life. He strived to live a life that was as Christ like as possible. He fancied himself a preacher. In fact, he was a good ole circuit preacher for a majority of his life, during the time frame that my mother was a child and early adult.

While he worked at many different jobs, it was preaching the Gospel that he felt was his calling. The only regret he ever expressed to me was that he could not do that full time. Grandpa worked at a glass factory, was a mortician, an ambulance driver, a security guard, a worked for many, many years as a police dispatcher, He helped usher in the 911 system in Tulsa.

His first wife gave birth to his only two children, both daughters. They were raised by a father that enforced very traditional, and strict, Church of Christ standards. After her death I remember Grandpa being very depressed and sad for a long time.

Then one day he announces that he had just eloped - and he turned into a different man. A kinder Christian who was more tolerant of the world, and people, around him. This marriage gave him a new perspective on life and forced him to rethink everything he had ever believed. He was happy.
So happy. And everyone was happy for him. To find a kindred spirit in the second half of life is a rare thing, but God had blessed him with just that.

I held tightly to my grandmother as we watched my grandfather take his last breath. It was peaceful and very calm. One last deep breath, and then he left.
The day before, while he still was able to recognize and comprehend those he loved the most gathered to say goodbye. While I had resigned to the fact that he was supposed to die years earlier, I had accepted the past 6 years of his life truly as a gift. I was fully prepared for his passing. We all were. Or so I thought.

What I was not prepared for was witnessing the tearful and passionate goodbye giving by my grandmother. While my poor gramps lay tied down to his hospital bed and strapped by tubes and an oxygen mask my grandmother, like the rest of us, came to bid him our final good-byes. Fully aware of what we were doing he also said his good-byes to us.

To the grandchildren around him he asked, “Baptized?” to which we reminded him we were. I guess this was his way of letting us know that we would indeed be seeing him again, or maybe it was an affirmation that he would be seeing us very soon.

But when it came time for him and my grandmother to say their final farewells, I found it to be too overwhelming. I never doubted their love for each other, but in recent years I thought that maybe they just tolerated each other more than they were in love. But as she gently kissed his face a hundred times and bathed him in her tears, you could see in his eyes that he loved her more deeply and purely than any he had loved before. Behind his mask his weak lips reached out to return her kisses and his dehydrating body leaked out a tear.

I was losing a grandfather. A strong Christian man whose influence on my life will affect me forever. I was prepared for that loss, because I know he’s not really gone. But my grandmother was losing a lover: a spiritual soul mate that cared more deeply for his “Baby” than he did for himself. He was loved by her more than he deserved – to which he readily admits. To watch them say their good-byes was more than I could bear. To feel that love was more than I could witness.

It brought me to tears – and has changed me forever.

Saturday, January 18, 2003

In his own words - Grandpa Cowen

These are some reflections on his life written by Ira Cowen somewhere around 1999-2000

Grandfather Remembers: Memories For My Grandchild

As the years pass by and the eye's grow dim and memory weakens day by day we forget things we would have liked to have said.

So I’d like to share some memories, and I’ll do the best I can, so you can know your grand father as a boy and as a man.

I was born Thursday August 18, 1921 at Paden, Oklahoma a small farm community, yet a prosperous community having at one time three banks. The most exciting thing that happened in this town, was when one of its banks was robbed by an outlaw named Pretty Boy Floyd, a well known outlaw who had killed several lawmen and robbed nearly every bank in Texas and Oklahoma, I was old enough to remember the times of this outlaw.

While still a small child my parents moved to Tulsa, where my Father worked in the oil fields as a tank setter. I remember some of the places we lived. One in particular was behind the famous Canes Academy which later became popular as the home of the western band "Bob Wills and his Texas Play Boys" . I can remember parties they would have as on New Years eve, you didn't dare go outside for the activity going on. Our house faced the alley which was like a street, one of my pass time activities [don't ask where I got this idea] I would take nails and prop them up on the front and back of the tires of the cars thinking if they moved forward or backward they would have a flat.

(Stephen Frederick and Lennie Mae McKnight-Hastings reared Stone circa early 1960's)

Then we lived for a while in the Lombard area [ I have not been able to find this area but there was a school next door to our house.] Our mother would send us to church over in west Tulsa, she would dress me in knee pants and a little buttoned top which buttoned to the pants, knowing if i needed to use the toilet I could not get them unbuttoned. The end result, I would mess my pants, when I had to go I would to the can for help, and start running, the only problem no one could catch me to assist me , so I would mess my pants.

I remember one time in the golf course on West Edison, which we would cut through on the way home, I had to go and caned for help and started running. My sister Lovay was not as fleet footed, she never caught me. This was an on going thing, one time at a park outing the driver held me outside the bus on the running board: this was his only choice, either leave me at the park or ride outside on the fender (because I had messed my britches). After then, when I became a teenager I could manage by my self, [joke] but it was long running episode. I would not have written this but Lovay wouldn't believe I had the nerve to talk about it. Besides I thought it was funny.

We moved on West Twenty First place about four houses from the end of the block. Here is where I met my first girl friend, she was the daughter of some friends of ours. They owned a two seated car. We kids would go sit in the car playing like we were going some place my girl friend and I would always ride in the back seat. This was the beginning of the era of the great depression: the days of soup line, of which I hear people saying there never were such thing but be assured I saw soup lines over a block long in freezing weather. Our family was lucky, or fortunate, I should say. We never had to stand in line. Our father was lucky enough to have a job which was not much, but he did have a pay check, which was not much, but it kept us off the soup line. It was not a disgrace to be poor and seeking food from the soup kitchens.

I remember at Christmas we hung our stockings up and we would get one orange, one apple, and some mixed hard Christmas candy, some times a little toy, most of the time we kids made our own toys to play with. We were lucky; our father had a job and our mother had a garden in a vacant lot by our house, so we ate pretty good. Also, food was a lot cheaper then, we bought a cow so we could have milk and butter. Around this time the bridge we called the Twenty Third street bridge was under construction my father had enough experience from his job at McMichaels Sand Plant to hire in at the bridge construction. He was pumping sand for the approaches to the bridge, but this job didn't last very long, and as my father had been raised on a farm he was offered the opportunity to move to a farm about three miles east of Nowata, OK.

This is where I have my fondest memories of my childhood, this a dream come true for me. When I was not in school I was out in the woods either fishing or hunting , but the farm we moved on was caned gumbo, when wet you could walk twenty feet and have a ball of mud as large as a bucket on your feet it was a first class craw fish farm the craw fish would build a mound of mud six inches high we would tie a piece of fat meat on a string drop it down the hole and up would come a craw fish the size of a small lobster. Money was not as plentiful as it had been before moving on the farm but we still could raise most of our food and catch fish, kill squirrels, catch bull frogs, which is a gourmet dish today. We even tried opossum but that didn't go well with me.

One day, as the head feed was ripening, the red wing black birds would come to eat the seeds from the head of the feed. The sky would be black with them. My mother told me to take the shot gun and see how many I could kill with one shot and I killed as many as she needed. She cleaned them and baked a black bird pie with veggies in it. And it was delicious.


(Lennie Mae Cowen 1901-1984)

This farm was in an ox bow of the verdigris river. When the river overflowed it would leave its banks on the north side of the bottom and follow the foot of the hill around and exit back into the river at the south side. This made a lake some places ten feet deep and twenty five feet wide. There were fish a plenty bullfrogs fifteen inches tong an snakes a live when we would get tired of fishing we would hook the snake in the belly and kill them.

There were an abundance of fur bearing animals so my father taught me how to set traps and I got twenty five traps which was the limit and became a trapper. I had two box traps to catch rabbits in to use for bait for the steel traps mostly what I caught was skunks and opossum any of good hides from them, stretched and clean from fat with no holes in them would bring fifty cents to a dollar twenty five.

I would get up every morning rain, shine sleet or snow and run my traps before I would go to school, l caught so many skunks that when the kids smelled a skunk they would all look at me but I contributed a few dollars to the family.

Things got no better and I can't remember what the disagreement was about but my father and M.r McMichael got cross ways and we moved further down into the bottom, in fact we were the last house in the bottom before the river. Now, as far as I was concerned I was happier because this was to me like a jungle and I was Tarzan.

This farm was better, the only thing was that it had not been cultivated in a few years so we had to clear the land of all the sprouts from the last time it had been cultivated, but we accomplished the task in time for planting after having one huge bon fire from the pile of sprouts One other problem was that we had no drinking water. We had to haul water a half a mile sometime with a twelve quart bucket in each hand. The next few months were rough mother would save eggs or churn the milk and make a pound of butter to use as barter at the store.

Hardships come and went I remember once when my older brother fell madly in love with a neighbor girl she was a pretty girt but she had the itch and gave it to my brother who in turn gave it to the rest of our family. Boy what an ordeal. We went to the doctor for a cure but he had nothing, so our mother using a home remedy boiled poke plant roots in water and made us bathe in it what a terrible ordeal; it was like liquid fire but it got the job done.

We worked very very hard during that year. I was still going to school. By now I had another girl friend, her name was Helen Spray. We would write love letters to each other. I would keep mine from her and hide them in the stairwell. One day my mother noticed a bulge in the wall covering and found my letters. After reading them and she got back to earth she verbally threatened me with bodily harm when I arrived from school. I did not see anything wrong with the letters. I believed me to be a pretty good letter writer and I know my penmanship to be excellent for I won in contest with it.

During the summer we had a natural swimming pool in the river so we always had every kid in the bottom at our house swimming practically every after noon. There were just three kids at that time in our family, better make that four I forgot about Virginia, I don't know how because she would sit down in the trail to school and cry for me to carry her on my back and there I was just a child my self but with her threatening to tell "daddy on you" made me turn around and go back pick her up and carry her. We had about three miles to walk to school. The school was a two room country school at Coody's Bluff, a farm community with two stores and the school; practically all inundated when Oologah came to filled with water from the dam by the same name, Oologah Dam, the foundation may still be visible at times. If we could have crossed the river just north of the school we would have had about a mile to walk to school.

Things got no better but the last year we lived there, the dates are difficult to remember, and it was about time to cut our wheat and oats and put them in shocks to await the threshing but it was not to be. The corn was as high as an elephants eye in the tassel stage. And it serrated to. I think it rained forty days and forty nights and the river began to rise and kept on rising till just the tops of our corn was above the water and living in an oil field the oil was floating on top of the water just even with the heads of our wheat of our mother and oats, the the rain stopped and the water began to recede, but mud was left, we went into our house washed the mud out and moved back home, and it started to rain again, and it rained and rained till the river began to flood, so we reloaded our belongings in the wagon and never looked back. My father sold all our farming equipment to the best offer, so we bid all good bye and moved to Seminole, OK where many of our relationship lived. These were my mothers, mother and father and two sisters (Ira's maternal grandparents Tim Stone). We had not even got settled in till they all left for California the only income we had while at Seminole was a daily newspaper route which was not much, and what my dad made at odd jobs.

We didn't live at Seminole but a few day's when my father went to visit his brother who farmed ten miles north of Paden and my father rented a farm and came back to Seminole and got us and we moved eight mites north of Paden, but again things went ba. This was the start of the dust bowl days which the movie Grapes of Wrath was made about. If you had lived during those days you could appreciate what I mean: Hard Times, again with the ability to grow most of our food and with the ingenuity of our mother to cook a meal from almost nothing we survived.

Then the federal government enacted a relief for farmers called drought relief, but at that time my Dad could not get access to that, but along about the same time the government started the Civilian Conservation Corps for young men seventeen year and older. They would send them all over the United States and would build roads & fight forest fires. In return they received housing, meals and cloths and was paid one dollar a day of which twenty five dollars was sent home to the boys family keeping five dollars for the boys personal use. My brother went to the CCC first and stayed six months, the one hundred and fifty dollars sent home to the boys family in the six months the boy served was not much but it was all the family had to live on. I was the next one to go. I was sent to Wyoming (1937), a sixteen year old boy in Wyoming would make a man out of the boy rather quickly, because Wyoming was still the wild west. I enjoyed my time there, where we had been transferred from Cheyenne to what we called a side camp in the mountains south of Douglas WY. Again I found myself in ideal country for a barefoot kid (but i did wear shoes )I with cheeks of tan, we were just north of Laramie mountain a wild unsettled area full of abandoned mines, we checked the mine shafts over and crawled down a way inside of them but the timbers were so rotten we decided it was not worth it, besides the bottom of the shafts were full of water.

Then I volunteered for a side camp of which there were only about twenty boys an the
foreman. Some of the boys with the foreman lived in a house on the site the rest lived in tents, I lived in a two man tent, the place was called Cold Springs. Here we were working on a ranger station. Grandma Maggie and I went back to this area fifty years later and found the exact location of our camp, we found where we had lain rocks to form side walks, I wanted to see if it looked any thing like i remembered, it was difficult to find much of what i remembered.

After six months I was scheduled to return home, but before we left we moved to a town right out of the old west, Saratoga Wyoming. They had dirt streets and board sidewalks as you walked down the side walk or into the stores it sounded like some of the scenes on the western movies. The North Platte river ran right through town it was all ways jammed with logs destined for the saw mill, also a small earthen dam separated a hot spring from the river. In the evenings most of the town would be down at the spring enjoying the therapeutic qualities of the spring. Each day we would drive two hours up in the mountains to what was called, and can be found on the map, as the Snowy Range where we would bug trees: I will explain. A ranger would mark the trees that was full of wood borers which spread from tree to tree. We would cut the tree down pile it up in a pile peal the bark off the stump below the surface of the ground, and when it snowed and forest fire danger was minimal the brush piles would be burned.

The day for our departure finally arrived and we loaded aboard a train and headed for home. I would stay at home only six months and would sign up again for the CCC, this time i was sent to Henryetta. OK (1938). I would remain there for eighteen months. We constructed a beach on the Henryetta lake by hauling sand from the North Canadian River to create the beach. All of the buildings were built using native stone from the hills south of Henryetta. This is where I met and married your grandmother (9-21-1940 @ 19 ears old)

A month after that I was discharged from the CCC camp and started looking for a job, which were scarce as hen's teeth. My first job was working for a timber cutter, we cut saw logs and mine props. The pay as well as I remember was 9 1\2 cents an hour with lunch furnished but, when we loaded mine props to haul to the mine as long as I was riding in the truck I did not get paid. (For your information mine props were used to shore up the roof of the mines to keep them from falling in they were about the size of a fence post and about five foot long.) If I worked all day some times I would make one dollar. Pearl and I would live a while with her family and then go stay with my family. After a while I got a job from a government program working in a mattress factory (1941). We would refurbish old mattress using the old cotton with some new cotton to make new mattress, after a while as I gained experience I was promoted to the sewing machines sewing the covers, I was promoted to where we tuft and rolled the edge of each mattress.

This went on for about a year and Pearl and I moved to San Diego, CA. I joined the labor union and went to work feeling like I was a real man at last. I worked at various common labor jobs. One day I saw an add wanting workers in a defense plant and I went and applied and got a job helping build 8-24 heavy bombers. Now I was happy, working on airplanes. There I stayed for four and a half years. (1941-1945)

But, with no vacations I become tired and seeing war movies I was ready to go in and whip the Japanese, Pearl was pregnant with Wanda Faye, but I went down to the draft board and told them the uncertainty was to great not knowing at what time I would be drafted, and if they wanted me to take me, my bluff didn't work so I volunteered for the navy.

I was given a month to go back home and visit and I would be inducted from Okemah this time passed very quickly and I was soon on a bus for Tulsa where I would be sworn into the military. In a couple days I was sent to San Diego naval training station which was just a fence between where I had been working for the last four and a half years. My training was not that interesting so we will skip that part of my fife. (1945-1950)

I was assigned to the navy air wing and sent to Alameda, CA where I did the work of an apprentice seaman like sweeping the hangers, picking up cigarette butts and walking guard at night in the hangers, which I hated. So I volunteered for radio school and was accepted. We were sent to Moffett Naval Air Station which had a blimp squadron stationed there. I did not apply myself as I should have and did not get my radio license was sent back to Alameda NAS resumed my duties as before. In the mean time Pearl brought Wanda Faye out to San Fransisco where I could be with them nearly every week end and night. In the mean time I was trying to leave the base by anyway I could. I volunteered for aircraft carriers, several different other duties, and finally was accepted for duty over seas, of which I had no idea where it was.

As the ship made its way down through Puget sound my thoughts were to jump over board and swim ashore, but I still had the feeling of loyalty. I shut it out of my mind. As we reached the sea we had passed through and looked at some beautiful country. For the next few days we were on the open sea which was like a cruise. For days the pacific was smooth as glass, the day or hour I can't remember but it was early morning. Still we could see the Hawaii island but entry into the harbor was delayed because the submarine net was not opened but when we did get in we docked at the foot of the aloha tower for a while then we moved around to a loading dock, while there everyone took a trip to Waukakee beach for a swim. The only ones left on board ship was myself and a chief and the ships crew. The only bath I had since aboard ship was salt water, so i carried water from a drinking fountain up one deck until I had enough to take a bath; it sure made me feel better.

When we left Hawaii we ran a zig zag course for protection from subs and again due to time and date loss I don't know when we pulled into a small island not much larger than a few acres, by then we were getting closer to the equator and it was sweltering hot. We were supposed to join a convoy as we were getting in the war zone, but the skipper gave up and we headed out on our own. We stopped by an island which i believe was Wake Island which was a flat piece of sand. I don't think it had even one tree on it, just an air strip and some buildings, then we continued on our journey finely arriving at our destination, the island of Guam. It was hot and humid but we had our feet on the ground the island was secure.

But caution was the word because there were many japs still in unorganized groups on the island that had not surrendered. The marines would catch a few at night and even in the day time. They would raid the trash and garbage cans at night most of the time for food. My first few days in Guam I slept in a tent by myself which was at the edge of the jungle. I slept with my bowie knife under my pillow. The only attack I experienced was from mosquitoes and there were millions of them. We had outdoor showers and you could stand under the water and they would cover every inch of skin. Eventually I got assigned to a quonset hut which was my home till I left to go back home. Since I was traveling on special orders I caught the first ship out which was a navy ship much cleaner and it headed straight for Seattle, Washington. The navy chow hall was open with food like we had not seen in months and fresh milk: all you could drink.

I was discharged within two days and on my way home about midnight in the rain and no one to meet me. A police car came by and saw me in a store door way and ask me if they could take me home, and they did. This was the beginning of the transfer from military to civilian life

I thought I wanted to be a farmer so I went in debt for the things that was supposed to make me a farmer, the first year was a complete flop: all I wanted to do was fish and hunt. I had over looked cows to milk every day, hogs to feed every day, planning for the crops I would plant the coming year, the plowing of the fields to be prepared for the planting, all of this left no time for fishing and hunting, so guess which was neglected? The first year passed rather quickly and the man who owned the farm I had rented wanted to move back on it, so with the help of my father and uncle I went in debt and purchased an eighty acre farm, which would have been a good investment if it had not been for the fishing and hunting. I tried for two years and as there was not any inoculations against fishing and hunting fever, I succumbed to the fact I was not, neither would I ever, be a farmer. (1950-56)

So I sold every thing and moved to Henryetta, Oklahopma and went to work for the Pittsburgh Glass lant, which was a good place to work but not perfect place. Every year or two one of the two tanks had to shut down and if you were not high on the seniority you were out of work except for extra hours when they needed a warm body. I stayed with it for four years and quit and moved to Tulsa and worked at the OX refinery, but it was not much more secure, so i went to work for douglas aircraft. Again I was happy I was around airplanes. After seven years I was dismissed because of cut back in defense spending. The next few years were tough. First I worked as a surgical orderly, (56-58) next I worked for The Tulsa Whisenhunt Funeral home for a year(58-60) doing every thing but embalming, but I had to help do that. Then I hired on as a dispatcher at the Tulsa Police Department for twenty six years (1960-1986) and that is where I retired into an old grouch and hermit or Scrooge.

I forgot to mention !!!!!!Your grand mother died in the late 1979 in 1980.

I had a heart attack and within four months I had triple bypass surgery followed by two more major surgeries and several minor surgeries.

In 1986 I retired from the city with 26 years of service.

In 1986 I met a lady who was a volunteer at the communications division we began to date and later married and she is proud to be called grandma. She had 4 girls and one son all well mannered, thinks the world of me.

Now to you my grandson I say get all the education you can while you can, don't be as grandpa and have to pass up jobs and promotions because of the lack of education, above all love your children and your wife, don't forsake God and the church for therein you will find strength. This is where I took the wrong road, by not becoming a full time minister. I was happiest when I was preaching every Sunday.

Great Grandpa Stephen Fredrick Cowen



This is information written down by Ira Cowen several years ago


Memories of Grandpa Cowen

Memories of a boy" or a girl" should be precious, and if by chance one should be blessed with time spent with their grandpa it should be regarded with much love and affection, many people my age and even younger did not know their grandpa I was around and associated with my grandpa Cowen more than my grandpa Stone, but I loved both equally and enjoyed being in their company. Grandpa Cowen was a wonderful and loving He and my father looked alike, I assume he was raised in Arkansas, born in a family of two children.a boy and a girl, his sister my great aunt lived in Prague Ok. and i remember going to see her while i was young, her Husband, Walter Hill was a lawyer later on a Judge in Lincoln county, Grandpa we called him Pappy would sit and tell me stories that happened back in Arkansas, there were family feuds in those days and the one i remember best was between two families the larues and Johns, grand pa sister's first husband was one of the Johns boys, these two famities carried their guns every where. One Day the youngest Johns boy was riding his horse down the road he shot a crow and got off his horse to pick up his brass, they saved the brass to reload, and to hang the crow he had killed on the fence post for some reason unknown to me the Larues shot the young Johns boy several times, he got on his horse and rode home where a doctor was called who came and upon examination explained nothing could be done for the young lad, His brothers, which i believe were three of them tied there horses to the back of the house. Early next morning their brother died upon his death his brothers mounted their horses and rode off tooking for the Larues clan, the first one spotted by them was walking between his house and barn going to do his morning chores, they killed him as he ran toward the barn before he could reach the safety of the barn. next they saw one walking down the road upon which he started running across a field of corn stubble they started shooting at him as he ran through the com stalks, as he ran he felt some punch him in the stomach thinking he had been shot he fell and laid very still. The Johns boys dismounted and picked up their brass re mounted and one of them rode looking back to see if the one down in the field moved, saying if he did move he would have shot him upon their going out of sight the man in the field checked and finding he was not shot ran into the town nearby, the name of the town i have forgotten. He begged the Sheriff or constable to lock him in the jail for protection.

After this I think my aunt either married or was already married to the Johns boy, which I think his name was Johnny, in either case he became a fugitive from the law, he was hunted for some time and eventually captured sentenced to prison, he and another prisoner escaped and became a hunted man, during their escape, Johnnys partner took sick johnny would not leave him but nursed him back to health at which time the man began to believe he might be in danger of johnny killing him one night as they slept he ran off and went to the law and turned states evidence in to the law on johnny, the blood hounds were called out and they tracked him down and put him back into prison, while in prison his cell mate snored so loud johnny couldn't sleep, so Johnny decided to stop the snoring and make it look like the man died in his sleep, so during work hours johnny sharpened a nail very sharp and that night drove the nif into the celf mates head eliminating the snoring, next morning he reported it to the guards and they carried him out for burial, they evidently did not investigate something like they do today. later on in time Johnny was released and he came back and begged my great aunt to leave and go with him But my great aunt had given up on johnnys ever returning and had remarried and refused to go with him.

Now in the meantime remember Johnnys partner who turned johnny in which led to his capture, this man had become a lawman, knowing Johnny as he did and fearful that Johnny would kill him they were both at a little country store and as Johnny walked upon the store porch the man shot him in the back killing him. Pappy would tell me tails about the old days and i wonder about the ones he never told me.

I can see him in my memories sitting on the river bank under the shade of a willow tree with a couple cane poles in front of him fishing, I would cross the river and go over to his side, sit down and talk to him, also i can see him as he walked down an old dirt dusty road to go fishing I would run to catch up with him happy with not a care in the world, I can see him eating breakfast which would consist of eggs over easy, fat sow belly and the eggs would floating in melted lard, with hot biscuits with fresh butter and sorghum, he was a happy man and i am thankful to have known him and to have the memories i have

Labels:

Great Grandpa Timothy Nimrod Stone

This was information Ira Cowen wrote down for me several years ago. I hope you enjoy it.

Memories of My Grandpa Stone!!!

I remernber Grandpa!~

Let me describe him to you, he was over six feet in stature and surely must have been a strong man both physically and mentally i always looked at him as a cowboy He always wore a White John B.Stetson hat, I believe the hat was the first thing he put on upon arising each morning. his face was tanned a nd with a square chin and piercing eyes and a beautiful handlebar mustache with a pipe clenched in his teeth he really looked the part of the wild west we read about and see in the movies, yet he was the kindess and gentile man i ever seen never recall ever him loosing his temper, he was soft spoken and though uneducated he could supervise a crew of men and they would enjoy working, even as much as i detested having to work but he could get me to work and enjoy it.

during the oil boom around seminole, Ok. he had teams of dray they were huge horses and he move oil field equipment it was tough work no hard surface to work on only mud always ankle deep.

It was after he retired and moved to San Diego, Ca. that i have the fondest memories of him, he loved to come to our home and stay with us he loved western stories and after breakfast he would load his pipe with prince albert tobacco lean his chair back against the wall and we would take turns reading westerns to him for hours and even though he could not read or write i would skip some of the less important parts but he would notice it and make me read all of it, one morning i took my brother to work and grandpa said stop at the store and pick up some books and i saw a spicy western and included it in our regular western books, well he got settled in his chair and his pipe lit and i was the first to read, i started out rather innocent and then i got to some spice he puffed his pipe and said" naw son the west wasn't like that he failed to remember i spent six months in the nineteen and thirties right in among the roping riding and branding cowboys and sheep herders who would come into town looking for a fight. anyway he loved anything to do with cows, horses and roping and riding, we would take him to a rodeo which he enjoyed.

I remember he would tell me about when he was a teenager, he worked hauling freight by freight wagon from Ft Smith, Arkansas to muskogee, Indian territory, before oklahoma was a state.

He would have to spend a night in ft smith, his boss because of grandpa being to young to go into the salons ask the owner of the saloon who was a good friend of grandpas boss ask the saloon owner to let grandpa sit over in a comer of the saloon, but he could not be served drinks because of his age. Some where or somehow grandpa became acquainted with the woman Belle Starr who was a leader of a gang of outlaws who took refuge out side of the law in the Indian Territory because grandpa was so young and was known by all of the guards at the state line, they would
not search grandpas wagon for contraband or whiskey which was prohibited from transportation into the Indian Territory, Belle Starr becoming aware that grandpas wagons was not searched for illegal contraband, she would hide a couple gallons of whiskey in the freight and ride offinto the woods.

Some where along his route and before he would arrive at Muskogee, Belle Starr would ride out of the trees take her two gallons of whiskey and disappear back into the woods.

One night during grandpas layover at ft smith grandpa was in the theatre which was above the saloon a woman of the night came and set down by him and i assume was trying to entice him when Belle Starr appeared from no where and took the woman and said" don't you ever let me catch you bothering this boy again.

Most of our time spent with Grandpa Stone was spent reading wild west stories and not swapping stories

Labels:

Thursday, January 16, 2003

Cowen Genealogy pictures

Mary Drucilla Williams Cowen



















Lennie Mae McKnight-Hastings reared Stone














John Martin