Most of my research to date has
been to discover our American Indian ancestry. I found both Cherokee and
Catawban heritage. Lately, I have been confronted with the possibility that we might
have Tuscaroran or Pamunkey heritage as well, or perhaps in place of the
Catawban. I only admit those as possibilities. I still think the most likely suspect is Saponi, a band of the Catawba. Well I am pretty much finished with my research in these fields,
unless something new comes up.
Most of the Blog entries from here
on will be concerning the history of my other ancestors. Although there is the possibility
our Hawkins ancestry might have an American Indian component, I suspect that it
does not. This blog entry is about our ancestors that carried the Hawkins
surname.
Our Hawkins Surname
The origin of our Hawkins surname
is hard to figure out. This largely because we can’t discover the line very far back in time.
I am Vance Hawkins. I was born in on December 28th, 1952, in Okmulgee, Okmulgee County, Oklahoma. [BIRTH CERTIFICATE]. My family was in Okmulgee because Dad, as a result of his service in the Army during WW2, was granted an opportunity to go to a trade school, Okmulgee State Tech. [MODERN PICTURE OF SCHOOL].
I am Vance Hawkins. I was born in on December 28th, 1952, in Okmulgee, Okmulgee County, Oklahoma. [BIRTH CERTIFICATE]. My family was in Okmulgee because Dad, as a result of his service in the Army during WW2, was granted an opportunity to go to a trade school, Okmulgee State Tech. [MODERN PICTURE OF SCHOOL].
Dad was born Alpha (called Alfie)
Omega Hawkins, on August 15th, 1915, on a farm near Manitou, Tillman
County, Oklahoma. He said it was taken from the Bible, and was in the Book of
Revelations. “Jesus said I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last.”
But dad was neither; he was the 5th of 8 children. I was always told
Dad’s grandma, Josephine (Brown) Richey was a midwife, and she delivered him,
as well as mama, who was born a month later on a neighboring farm.
Dad’s Stories
“1. Coalie
He had a few stories about his
growing up. One was that when he was very young, he had a dog named “Coalie”.
He said it was named “Coalie” because it was black as coal. One day dad said he
was told that he disappeared. He was just 4 or 5 years old. Everyone was
looking for him. “Where was Alfie? Where had he gone.” They looked
everywhere. Finally when he was found, it
was in the dog house curled up with Coalie, both fast asleep, that he was
discovered.
“2. The Pet Bull
The next story dad would tell was
when he was maybe 10 or 12 years old. It always started an argument between Dad
and Mama. He’d start talkin’ about his “pet bull”. I am not talking about a
breed of dog, but an actual bull that became a family pet. He talked about it
being his job to raise the bull. The family knew he loved that bull, so he was spared
the “trip to market” that doomed other cattle born on the farm. If Mama heard
Dad start to tell this story, she’d come closer and listen for her cue to
interrupt it.
Dad would say when both he and
the bull were young, the bull could see him coming from a long way off, and run
up to greet him. Dad said he lived to be scratched between where his horns were
growing in, and he’d oblige. As time passed, the bull grew to expect to be
scratched between his horns, and so would lower his heard when he saw Dad
coming, indicating he wanted to be scratched. That was Mama’s cue. She’d
interrupt; “That bull was mean!” She and her other brothers and sisters, maybe
others, would take a short cut, and walk to and from school through the Hawkins
pasture. They lived on neighboring farms. She’d say they always kept a lookout
for Dad’s bull. Of course that little calf Dad raised grew up into a large
bull. Mama’d say that bull, if it saw them walking in the pasture, would run at
full gallop towards them, terrifying them! They’d all start running as fast as
they could towards the barbed wire fence, hoping to get on the other side
before the bull got too close. The only
trees in the pasture were mesquite and they have huge thorns – so they had to
make it through the barbed wire fence, or else.
Now this was Dad’s cue to
interrupt. He’d let her have her say until she got to this point. Then he’d
say; “That bull wasn’t mean!” Whenever he saw Dad he’d also gallop at high
speed, excited to see him! Mama’d say; “On the times that he got close he’d
lower his head pointing his horns directly at the nearest child!” Dad’d reply,
“He’s always done that, since he was a little calf. He just wanted his forehead
scratched.” Mama never believed Dad’s story, and looked horrified as she gave
her two cents, and Dad always had a smile on his face as he told his side. Then
the story’d degenerate into an argument, but an argument I must have heard a
hundred time. They never agreed on the details.
“2. One of Dad’s Chores During the Dust Bowl
There is another story about that
bull. During the era of the Dust Bowl Dad would has it was his job to take care
of the cattle. They never had a lot of cattle, but they might have one or two
dozen head, that’s all. All the farms were like that. Dad would say you could
see the dust clouds from a long way off. They got to know from seeing the dust
in the distance how much time they had. All the boys wore a bandana around
their necks. When the dust clouds came, dad had a job to do. He’d go out to the
pasture. Of course his huge “Pet Bull” would see him and he too, had a job to
perform, and he knew to do it. Dad said he’d ride that bull as though it was a
horse. The other cattle knew to follow the bull. Dad would lead the bull towards the barn and
all the other cattle would follow the bull. In that way, they could get out of
the worst of the dust, into a barn where they could breathe better. Oh, and
that bandana he wore round his neck? Dad would say he’d turn it around “like
the outlaws in old westerns”. That would prevent them from breathing in so much
dust.
“3. A Short Story Dad Would Tell About His Father and their Mules
I almost forgot about this one. Dad
also had a story about their family mules. Dad liked mules, and occasionally
would mention them. He also mentioned that when he was young a trip to town and
back home was a day long journey. When he was young they had no car and went to
town in a mule driven wagon. There were times when his father went to town in a
mule driven wagon. This is just a very short story, but it tells us something
about people’s relationships with their animals a hundred years ago, so
different from today.
Apparently when grandpa went to
town, he did so with a team of mules. Now they lived nine or ten miles from
town. It took hours to travel that distance. By the time he was ready to return
home it might be nightfall. When they went to the grocery store, they’d return
with fifty or a hundred pounds of flour or corn meal, things like that. By
nightfall he’d be tired. Dad said there were times he’d return late from town,
and at some point would fall asleep on the way home. Dad would say if he got
sleepy, he might crawl in the back and lay down. The mules knew the way home.
When he awoke in the morning they’d be close to the house, waiting for him to
drive them the last few feet, unharness then and set them free to nibble as
much grass as they wanted. Later when he was in the army he’d tell stories of
Army mules hauling big artillery guns. Trucks could get stuck in the mud, but
mules never did, if you had enough of them. He liked mules.
“4. Dad’s Comanche Boss
Uncle Cecil lived in Lawton as I
was growing up in Altus. Lawton is/was 55-60 miles east of Altus. The modern
four lane highway hadn’t been built yet. The modern road hadn’t been built yet.
It bypasses all the small town. The old highway just went from one small town
to the next, until arriving in Lawton. One small town, Headrick, has pretty
much died since that time. The rest re still around, and seem fine outwardly. I
don’t any of them will ever completely recover, though. But the old highway had
more character, winding around some, whereas the new highway it just a straight
line mostly, passing from Altus to Lawton.
When I was young, We’d use the
old highway to go to Lawton. It wound around and through all the small towns.
Somewhere near the towns of Indiahoma or Cache, probably between the two towns,
dad would start to tell a story of his first job outside of home.
First, a short geography and
history lesson. The towns between Altus and Lawton are closest to Altus,
Headrick, then Snyder, Indiahoma, Cache, and finally Lawton. First and furthest
west are Altus and Headrick are in Jackson County, Next in the middle is Snyder
in Kiowa County. A road flows south from Snyder to Manitou and Frederick both
in Tillman County. Below both Jackson and Tillman County is Red River and the
state of Texas. East of Snyder are the towns of Indiahoma and Cache, both in
Comanche County, as is Lawton. While many Kiowa allotments are found in Kiowa
County, many Comanche Allotments are in Comanche County. Instead of tribal
reservations as in other states, Oklahoma Indian peoples were given 160 acres.
Although the government tried to turn the Plains Tribes into both farmers and
Christians, this proved a confusing talk for the tribesmen. Tribal members had
been told not to harm the farmers cattle or horses, but these same “Christian
farmers” were free to kill of all the buffalo of the Indian peoples. They were
told to convert to the religion of the people that sanctioned this double
standard. Young Indian boys and girls were sent to Indian schools where they
were punished if they spoke their own language. However during World War Two, some Comanche
boys were recruited to be “Code Talkers”, meaning they used their own language
as a code that the Germans never were able to crack. Dad was telling me this in
the 1950s and 60s after WW2, of an event that took place before the war, the
late 1920s or the early 1930s.
Now some of the Comanche land
allotments were in the country between Indiahoma and Cache. These allotments
were just a few miles from where he was raised on a farm east of the small town
of Manitou, and south of Frederick. They grew up knowing some Comanche
families.
Now for a short while during the
Dust Bowl era both my grandparents families lost their farms, but were able to
reclaim them. I don’t know the details.
If you look at the census records for many counties in Southwestern
Oklahoma, you will see about 30,000 people in many counties in 1930, and in
1940 they were reduced to 10-20 thousand persons. One reason Dad’s family wasn’t one of those
is the story Dad told me. He only had an 8th grade education as he
had to work. He said his first “paying job” was his work for a “Comanche
Rancher”. I am sure at one point he mentioned the mans name. But I was a child
at the time, wasn’t interested in history, and I made no effort to recall it later,
or ask him for it afterwards. But as we’d be driving to Lawton to visit Uncle
Cecil, somewhere between Indiahoma or Cache, Dad would point off to the side of
the road and say he used to work for the man that owned that land. He’d then
add that his job was “riding fence” around the man’s property. He said if there
were any holes in the fence, he’d repair them. I am sure he had other jobs, but
that is what he chose to share. He also said the money he made helped the
family get back up on their feet, and his job working for this Comanche man
helped the family remain in Oklahoma, and saved them from the need to migrate
west, as so many others had to do.
“5. The Civilian Conservation Corps
About that time Roosevelt was
elected, and the nightmare of twelve years of Republican rule came to an end.
One job creating opportunity the Roosevelt Administration introduced was what
Dad called “The C. C.’s”, but they are known to history as the “Civilian
Conservation Corps”. He joined them and
most of his check was sent every month to his family. I remember Dad saying
Roosevelt’s programs “saved their lies”. Modern day Oklahoman’s have forgotten
what their grandparents went through and need to be reminded, because they are
voting for descendants of the people who started the Great Depression of the
1930s. Didn’t they learn anything? Apparently not.
He’d
talk about building the Dams, campsites, trails and some buildings found in the
Wichita Mountain Wildlife Refuge just to the North of Lawton. After mama died,
my sisters sold my parents house and I wasn’t informed of it. When I did find
out, I raced over there to look through the place as I still had a key. I was
very sad when I realized the old photos were all gone. But I did get lucky as I
found a small silver filing cabinet. It was a gold mine. Dad’s old documents
were inside, including a few things from
his days in the CCs. Unfortunately, Dad wanted some large photos donated
to the Wildlife Refuge and I couldn’t find them.
I hope
to scan some of those CCC documents and share them here.
“6. World War Two Stories
After Dad’s time in the Civilian
Conservation Corps he joined the Army. He said he joined the Army Artillery
because he wanted to get stationed close to home, and he lived close to Fort
Sill which is just North of Lawton, and it is the location and home of the Army
Artillery School. When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, he was already
stationed at Schofield Barracks on the Island of Oahu. Dad had several stories
about World War Two. This is what I recall of them.
Dad had a couple of stories about
Hawaii which happened before December seventh. One was what sure sounded to me
like a date, but he didn’t call it that. He mentioned he ate dinner with a
Japanese-American girl at her family’s house. He gave no details. A second
story he told was about some of them throwing away some kind of gelatinous
insect repellant and replacing it with strawberry jam. They’d spread it over
their bodies to keep the insects off. Well, this particular batch didn’t repel
the insects very well.
Years later when watching “Mash”
about the Korean War Dad said there really were a lot of practical jokers, but
would add the officers never played the practical jokes like in the tv show – it
was the enlisted men who did that 😊.
“A. Pearl Harbor
I try to tell Dad’s WW2 story
every year on December 7th. As I write, it is December 7th,
2017. Dad was in the Army when the War
started and was on Oahu. Here is how he’d tell that story, but in my words., as
I recall his. He would start the story by telling about being put on alert on
Friday. He said, being in the Artillery, they would get their big guns ready
and take them over the mountains to the coast. Now Schofield Barracks, where he
was stationed, is in a valley the middle of Oahu. To get to the coast they
had to cross over the mountains. He said
it was raining, and their trucks got stuck in the mud, and they had to bring up
some mules to move the guns further. Once in position on the costal side of the
mountains, they sat there all day Saturday, only to move back to Schofield by
nightfall. Apparently their alert was a false alarm.
Dad said he was very tired after
moving those weapons over the mountains and back, and said he almost didn’t get
out of bed to eat breakfast. But being a son of the Dust Bowl, he couldn’t
sleep in and miss a meal. Breakfast was being served in a chow line outside. He
was a corporal at the time and he was good friends with the Mess Sergeant, or
cook. He said he casually went over to the cook, and started talking to him.
This way he didn’t have to stand in line. He just got a plate and started
filling it.
About this time off in the
distance they saw some air planes approaching. They were expecting this to
happen and no one thought anything of it. As young men will do, they pretended
to shoot at the incoming planes. Some pretended to be holding M1’s or BAR’s.
Some of the guy pretended to be shot, and fell. I am not sure how long this
lasted. At some point after this they realized those men they though were just
playing around, and who fell pretending to be shot, were not pretending. They
had actually been shot. At this point in his story he always spoke calmly and
barely above a whisper. Those planes were Japanese.
Dad added his first thought was
to run over to the supply room to get weapons. As it was locked, he and those
with him broke in the door, and got weapons to shoot at the Japanese planes.
The Japanese flew over Schofield on their way to Pearl Harbor, so my Father was
one of the first people to realize we were at war. Through the years of course
they’d heard many stories about Pearl Harbor. After Dad passed away I remember
mama saying his Pearl Harbor story was different from the others. She said
everyone else who told their story talked about escaping with their lives, but
Dad’s story was about getting weapons to fire back with, and she was proud of
him. I hadn’t thought of that before.
One last thing. Dad said when it
was over and he went back to is bunk, there was broken glass on it, and his
bunk had bullet holes in it. And he realized it was a good thing that he got up
and went down to the chow line. I don’t think he ever thought about sleeping in
again. As long as I knew him, he was always out of bed way before dawn.
Like I said, I feel obligated to
share this story every December seventh. I always start from scratch, so no two
versions are ever exactly alike. I’ve been doing this for at least 20 years,
and I’ll continue as long as I am able.
“B. Stateside
After Hawaii, Dad talked about
going to “Camp Cook” which was somewhere near Santa Barbara, California. That’s
when anI d where Mom and Dad got married on July 24th, 1943. Since
she talked more about that than Dad did, I’ll save that for a section on her family.
Dad also mentioned a cook here who was one of his best friends. I wonder if it
was the same guy he knew from Schoefield Barracks in Hawaii? I think it was. Guess
I’ll never know for sure. I think he stayed there several months, then went
home for a short visit before heading on to “Camp Polk”, later known as “Fort
Polk”, in Louisiana. Dad said while stateside, he was a Drill Instructor. I can
not picture him, ever, as a Drill Sergeant.
Oh, he did mention that he took a
bus from California to Kansas City. He said some guy started talking to him in
the train station, asking him questions and dad was in uniform. He said after
the guy left another person came up to him and asked Dad what they talked
about. Did they ask about troop movements, or ask any questions about the war?
Dad said this second guy was trying to determine if the first guy was some kind
of a spy.
Here he mentioned a good friend
who was with him in Hawaii, a guy named “Thompson”. They were still travelling
together in Louisiana. He gave a story about “Thompson”. Dad was from Oklahoma
and Thompson, dad said, was from San Antonio. Dad would say in the beginning he
and Thompson literally hated each other, and they did get into a fist fight.
Dad also talked about “Golden Gloves” boxing. Apparently that was part of their
training. Thompson would say something insulting about Oklahoma and Dad would
respond in kind with something about Texas. But there were people from all over
the country in the Army. Some people from other parts of the country would say
something insulting about Texas and Dad would be just as upset at it as
Thompson was. Dad’s father, Noah Allen Hawkins was born in Texas in 1877. Soon Dad and Thompson had each other’s backs.
AN “unwritten law” came into existence between the two of them. Dad could talk
trash about Texas and Thompson could talk trash about Oklahoma – But nobody
else better try it! They eventually became best friends.
I remember Dad saying that some
of the recruits fainted in the humidity and heat at Fort Polk. It wasn’t
uncommon. He might have said someone died, but my memory is hazy on that
account. Dad would add that he’d get hoarse from shouting and Thompson, who was
also made into a D. I. would see it, and come over and take charge until his
voice returned. I think they got in touch after the war and contacted one
another for a while, as well as is mess sergeant. But that didn’t last.
Well after a few more month at
Fort Polk he got on another train that took him to Boston. While there, he was
able to see a baseball game between the Red Sox and Yankees. The way he would
talk about that game, it was one of the greatest event of his life. He wasn’t
there long. He got aboard a big ship – It was either the Queen Elizabeth or
Queen Mary – I just don’t remember which, and it took him to – again, I don’t
remember – either England or Ireland -- I think England. He said he was an
“Artillery Radio Man”. He was sent to the new Third Army commanded by General
George Patton. This was shortly after D-Day and the Normandy landings. About
this time he heard of his brother’s death near St. Lo in France. Euel Lee
Hawkins was in the First Army and was in the Infantry. Dad always called him
his “baby brother”. I recall him saying often that she was so upset that his
“baby brother” was buried overseas. He’d
add; “no one wanted to be buried overseas.” I doubt if he had any time to mourn
as they went across France to the German border.
“C. The Battle of the Bulge
Dad never got specific, just
spoke in generalizations. The next thing I remember him talking about was
Bastogne. Oh but first he mentioned Patton. I remember him saying the media
gave Patton a tough time, and made him seem much worse than he really was. I re
call him saying Eisenhower was more a politician even then, than a general. He
would say Eisenhower’s job was to keep the peace between British General
Montgomery and General Patton. But in the end he’d say Patton did some things
he shouldn’t have done and gave Eisenhower no choice but to discipline him.
Dad NEVER liked officers. He
talked about his Captain, his battery commander. Once his Captain (I am sure
Dad called him by name, but I don’t recall it) had them go to some big old
French castle, mansion, ?chateau? out in the country. He forced his men to
gather as much wine as they could and fill up the back of their large truck.
They were to take it back to the captain’s quarters. Dad would sit in the back
of the truck for the return trip. Dad said he was so outraged at being told to
steal the wine for their Captain that he tossed it out the back of the truck.
The Captain saw to it that Dad never got a single promotion. He arrived in
France E5 Sergeant, and was still an E5 Sergeant when the war was over.
Back to Bastogne. Dad said the American
commander at Bastogne was ordered to surrender by the Germans and his reply was
“Nuts!” He also talked about it being very cold. Here are a couple of stories I
only heard when he was older. He mentioned someone being burned to death as
they’d started a fire inside their pup tent, and couldn’t get out of it. There
were a couple of other sad stories. One was of melting snow revealing six dead
German soldiers underneath where they had been sleeping. There was one other
where Dad said he saw an American soldier walking out in the woods with a
German prisoner, hearing a shot, and the same soldier walking back to camp,
alone.
“D. Germany
I remember him mentioning the
Black Forrest, Hurtgen Forest, and the Ruhr River – but I have no idea which
came first, second or third. During some of this time dad said he kept throwing
up, and some times fainting. But he said his Battery Captain didn’t care and
wouldn’t let him see a doctor. Finally a doctor did see him, and he sent him
immediately back away from the front lines, and ordered him back to London. Dad
said he was close to death, and that doctor realized it, and probably saved his
life. One of his kidney’s had quit working and he had to have it removed
immediately. He lived from mid-1945 until October 1992 with only a single
working kidney. Dad never cared for his battery Captain, and it’s probably a
good thing I don’t remember his name, which he did mention once or twice.
“E. The Hospitals in London and San Antonio
Dad also often talked of London,
and his time in the hospital there. This was near the end of the War in Europe.
He never ceased to talk kindly of the English people and hospital personnel. He
said a famous English actress walked him around London with him in wheel chair,
showing him Westminster Abby, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and the Tower of
London. But he never could remember the actresses name. Finally, he was sent to
a hospital in San Antonio, Texas, where he was discharged from the Army.
I wanted to get all the stories
Dad told and put them in correct chronological order. I might have left
something out, or placed it in the wrong order. I did the best I could from
memory.
“6. The Rest
After the war, I was told Dad
tried farming and couldn’t make it work. Only then did he, through the GI Bill,
attend the Tech school in Okmulgee, where I was born on December 28th,
1952. He learned about Accounting. After graduating, he operated a produce
store called “The Rock Station” back in his home in Tillman County. They bought
eggs, milk and other items from local farmers, and sold them locally.
Considering his highest schooling
was the eighth grade, the fact that he was able to learn accounting was pretty
good. They reopened an Air Base that had closed down after the end of the war,
in Altus, Jackson County, Oklahoma, in 1955. Dad was hired by the Accounting
and Finance Department. He worked there 20 years retiring in 1975 at the age of
60. He still worked at home doing income tax during the season, and also
keeping books for several local businesses. As with all of us, his health
gradually deteriorated, and he passed on in October 1992. He was a great story
teller, and could keep anyone listening spell bound.
“7. Other Stories
There were a couple of other
stories that Dad told that were about earlier generations of the family. These
stories were not about the Hawkins’es – but they were stories he told, so I
want to place them here with other stories he told.
“A. Sequoyah
We all knew we had some Indian
blood. But we’re not on the Dawes Rolls and we knew it. I have relatives who
say we descend from Sequoyah and another who says we descend from an unknown
brother of Sequoyah. But Dad’s story is a little different. My great-great
grandma was named Harriet (Guess/Gist) Brown. Her mother’s name was Rachel
Guess/Gist. It is thought her maiden name was “Havens my some with her first husband
being a “James Guess/Gist”. Some say Guess/Gist was her maiden name. We are not
sure about which is true. Sequoyah did have a daughter named Rachel, but his
relatives say Rachel died without baring any children.
Dad’s story goes as follows. His
family lived on a farm and his grandparents lived on the neighboring farm. He
walked quite a distance every day as a child to go to school. His grandparents
home was in the direct path he took to go to school. At the end of the school
day often he stopped for a while at his grandparents house before continuing
home, a short distance away. He only attended to the eighth grade but in the 7th
or 8th grade he took a class in “Oklahoma History”. One day when he
was on his way home he stopped at his grandparents house, and his grandma
thumbed through his Oklahoma History book. When his grandma, Josephine Brown,
got to the picture of an Indian, said to him; “Did you know you are related to
him?”
Dad told me that story when I was
young and I didn’t pay much attention to it. But as I grew older, and as he
grew older, I wished I’d been more curious. Everyone in the family knew it was
Sequoyah, but everyone also wanted more evidence of it. Finally one day I asked
him which picture of an Indian in that Oklahoma History book was it that she’d
pointed to. He could have easily said Sequoyah’s as he’d heard the same
stories. But all he ever replied to me was “I just don’t remember”. There are
two famous paintings of Sequoyah and I showed Dad pictures of both, but his
response was always the same – “I just don’t remember.”
“B. A Wild Turkey Gobler’s Feathers
There was another story he’d tell
about Aunt Etta. She was really my great aunt, but I always called her “Ain’t
Ettie”. This is a story about when they lived in the western part of the
Chickasaw Nation before Oklahoma became a state, probably in the late 1880’s or
early 1890’s. Quanah Parker had just surrendered and come in to the reservation
reserved for the Comanche in 1875, and there were occasional skirmished until
at least 1877. So only a decade or so had passed. Dad used the term “Wild
Indians” for the Plains Tribes and I once asked a Chickasaw about that term,
“Wild” Indians. He assured me, “yes”, they all called the Plains tribes by that
name.
This is a story Dad was told from
either his mama or his grandparents, I don’t know which. Anyhow, one day Aunt
Ettie came running towards the house.
She would have been a child I don’t know, maybe ten or so years old. She
was clearly upset and said; Wild Indians are crawling towards the house! I saw
their feathers in the tall grass!” Dad said his grandpa, Jeff Richey, calmly
got a weapon, I don’t remember if it was a shot gun or a rifle, and he walked
out in the pasture n the direction his daughter had said the “Wild Indians”
were coming. Remember it had been only a decade since the last of the Comanche
had come in to settle on the lands the government had assigned for them. And my
great grandparents lived very close to the border between them and the
Chickasaw. A Chickasaw friend told me that Comanche and Kiowa raids were common
in those days, raids for horses and cattle. So this was a real concern.
Then Dad would add that his
grandpa was gone several minutes, and they finally heard the sound of a weapon
being fired. A few more minutes passed. Everyone in the house wondered what was
going on outside. Had someone been shot? Finally, Jeffrey came in. He had a
turkey gobbler with him. They ate well that night. Apparently those “Indian
feathers crawling through the tall grass” were just wild turkey feathers.
Grandpa, Noah Allen Hawkins
I don’t know much about grandpa,
Noah Allen Hawkins. I know he was born in Robertson County, Texas in 1877. He
is on the 1880 and 1900 census there. Marriage records say he married grandma (Loney
Richey) in 1904 near Loco, in the Pickens District of the Chickasaw Nation. If
you look on a map, you see Loco would have been on the western edge of the
Chickasaw Nation. Census and marriage records say he moved up to Indian
Territory between 1900 and 1904. At some point between 1904 and 1910 they left
the Chickasaw Nation and moved to Tillman County, Oklahoma.
“1. A Little History of Tillman County
Per the website, http://www.okhistory.org/publications/enc/entry.php?entry=TI003
, . . . Tillman County was organized at
1907 statehood from a portion of Comanche County. . . . In the 1600s Spaniards were the first
Europeans to arrive, using the Great Spanish Road that paralleled the North
Fork of the Red River. . . . In 1867 the
Medicine Lodge Treaty created a reservation for the Kiowa, Comanche, and Apache
(KCA) in southwestern Indian Territory. By the 1880s prominent Texas ranchers
Daniel and William Thomas Waggoner and Samuel Burk Burnett leased grazing lands
from those tribes. [Vance’s note: A daughter of dad’s Uncle Oscar Richey married
one of the Burnett boys. There is also a record of Great Grandpa Richey
(Oscar’s dad) leasing lands from the Kiowa Agency for raising cattle].
. . . In 1892 the Jerome Commission began enrolling the Kiowa,
Comanche, and Apache in preparation for the opening their reservation to
non-Indian settlement. On August 6, 1901, a lottery was held to open those
lands, and in December 1906 the area known as the Big Pasture was made
available to non-Indian settlers. Since the lottery was in 1901 and my
grandparents were married in 1904, I doubt that we took part in the lottery.
Lona’s parents might have, though. I just don’t know. I honestly don’t know the
exact year they moved one county to the west. Loco is in what is now Stephens
County, and Tillman County borders it to the west. Stephens County had been a
part of the Pickens District of the Chickasaw Nation white Tillman County had
been a part of the Comanche/Kiowa/Apache Reservation lands.
“2. Home Is Where It Is
From what I’ve heard, Noah’s farm
was east of the Manitou/Frederick road. I believe they at some point during the
Dust Bowl era lost their farm, but either later got it back, or they got
another farm back. There was a story of while homeless, they got a sheet of tin
and dug a hole, using the tin as a roof, and lived in a half dugout for a
while.
“3. Ol’ Frank
I remember dad talking about an
Old Black man who lived with them for a while. Dad said the man would boast
that he had at one time been the slave of Andrew Jackson. This is unlikely as
he would have had to have been 100 years old. Now they picked cotton during the
season. They had to have their own buckets of water. Dad said they all drank
from the same tin cup. Dad said the former slave (‘Ol Frank) would show them a
dent in the tin cup and tell them (Dad was a child); “Don’t you drink from the
side of the cup that has the dent, cause that’s where I drink from.” Dad also
said “Ol Frank” slept in the smoke house.
“4. Uncle Eddie
Dad had Hawkins Uncles from Texas
who would come up and stay with the family for several months at a time, then
move on. He mentioned one uncle, an “Uncle Eddie” who he said came up for a
visit. I was told that while here, he contracted some illness, and he never
recovered. He said his uncle Eddie passed away, and that they buried him of the
farm. Of course that land pas been
bought and sole a dozen times by now. There are far fewer farmers today than
there were in the 1920s and 30s. The average size of farms now is over 800
acres. All the old farm houses are gone. They stood as little shacks for
decades before finally caving in, or being bulldozed over by new owners. I have
often wondered what ever became of Uncle Eddie’s grave. I’ve never seen it,
just heard about it. I suspect the present owner has no idea there is a grave
somewhere on that property.
“5. Arizona
I have no idea why Grandpa and
grandma split up. They had eight children together. I know some uncles acted
like they were upset at grandpa, their father. But in all such matters, I go by
what Dad said, and he acted like he always loved his papa. Both of my parents
always said “mama and papa”. Mama sometimes called her father "poppy". I was raised to say “mom and dad”. I don’t know
when they split up either. For a long time I always thought he died about the
same time I was born, 1952 or 3. Some
how I heard he died in a place called “Eloy, Arizona”. Well I conducted a lot
of research online, and finally found his gravesite. I wrote off and got
information about his last days. He died
in 1957, as I thought in Arizona, and he was penniless. Although I was just over
four years old when he died, I never met him. Here are the official records I found of grandpa's death.
This document says grandpa was born in 1875. His death was 1957. But the interesting thing is that it calls "Oklahoma" as his place of birth. We know he came to Oklahoma from Texas and that he was born in Texas, so they wrote down his place of birth incorrectly. He was also born, per these records in 1875. Had he been born in Oklahoma in 1875, that would have placed his birth in “Indian Territory”. Oklahoma only became a state in 1907, 32 years after his birth. No member of his family was present at his death. I don’t think Dad was notified at the time of his death, but I am not certain. Dad always said he wished his father’s body had been brought home. I think some people were notified, perhaps some of dad’s brothers -- but I know of no details. Apparently no one told them of the location of his birth.
This document says grandpa was born in 1875. His death was 1957. But the interesting thing is that it calls "Oklahoma" as his place of birth. We know he came to Oklahoma from Texas and that he was born in Texas, so they wrote down his place of birth incorrectly. He was also born, per these records in 1875. Had he been born in Oklahoma in 1875, that would have placed his birth in “Indian Territory”. Oklahoma only became a state in 1907, 32 years after his birth. No member of his family was present at his death. I don’t think Dad was notified at the time of his death, but I am not certain. Dad always said he wished his father’s body had been brought home. I think some people were notified, perhaps some of dad’s brothers -- but I know of no details. Apparently no one told them of the location of his birth.
He must have known some people in
Arizona when he died. Perhaps one of them knew he talked of living in Oklahoma
and they told local officials. Maybe he had papers with him at the time of his
death that mentioned he had a family in Oklahoma. But again, at the time of his
birth, most people living in Indian Territory (Oklahoma) were American Indians.
Arizona only became a state in 1912, five years after Oklahoma became a state.
Both states had a large American Indian population at the time, and still do.
Arizona officials would have known this, and they would have known that most
people born in Oklahoma in 1875 would have been American Indian. I wonder if he
told anyone in Arizona he had Indian blood? Since he must have told someone in
Arizona he was an Oklahoman, perhaps he did. I have another document that hints
at this possibility.
Joshua Allen Hawkins
Joshua is also a hard man to
track down. He is listed on 1860 and 1880 census in Texas, where it says he was
born in Alabama. Several years ago we noticed a parcel of land bought by Joshua
A. Hawkins in what would become Lamar County, Alabama in 1858. For several
years I looked at Hawkins families in that county. However three or four years
ago another document came to light. Apparently in that same year, 1858 – Joshua
went to jail prison in Huntsville, Texas. He was in jail for two years for
“theft”. However on that document it says “Nativity” which means place of birth
– “Alabama”. But under “county” it says “Cherokee”. Under residence it again
redundantly says “Alabama”. Census records place his birth either 1834 or 1837.
So if he was born in either 1834 or 1837 in what was to become Cherokee County,
Alabama, then he would have been born within the bounds of the Cherokee Nation
as it existed at that time. He would have been
a child at the time of removal between 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5 years of age. We
have never made any headway at finding his parents. Please note that at that
time there were a great many intruders living in the Cherokee Nation at the
time of removal.
Here is the 1880 census record (above) that
states Joshua A. Hawkins was born in Alabama. It states that he was 45 years old at the time
of the census, meaning he was born @ 1835. The same census says both of his
parents were also born in Alabama. That would put his parent’s births between
the 1790s at the earliest, to about 1815 or 20 at the latest. Per the record below, he was from Cherokee County, Alabama. At the time of
his birth, Cherokee County, Alabama was still a part of the Cherokee Nation. Wm. E. Hawkins is dad's "Uncle Eddie", the one buried on their farm. "Noah A." is grandpa. The census says he is 3 years old, meaning birth abt 1877, not 1875 as was stated on his death certificate.
If he was born in the Cherokee Nation then he might have been of mixed race. If so, he would have been a small child at the time of Indian removal. It is possible that by coming to Oklahoma and marrying grandma, he was simply trying to discover some of his roots. We will never know.
