Memories of an Oklahoma Farm Boy

During summers, I would often spend a week or so with my grandparents, Charlie and Rose Chappell, in Darrouzett, Texas. Grandpa had homesteaded on land in Beaver county, Oklahoma in 1906, the year before statehood. The farm was located directly north of Darrouzett and on the state line. It was not very good land and after about 15 years he acquired several acres of land with a house in Darrouzett, and gave up farming.

The house and other buildings were pretty much in disrepair when he dealt for them, but within a relatively short time they had a comfortable and attractive home.

There was an orchard planted to the west of the house where fresh fruit was plentiful as it ripened during the summer. It seemed the cherries were always ripening when I visited them and grandma would have me pick her some cherries for cherry pie. I didn't like the job but tried to be obedient and bring her a bucket full. A problem I had was tasting the first cherry. If I did taste one, it was impossible to stop eating them and get the bucket full. It seems I remember giving out on the job and taking grandma a bucket only half full of cherries.

Grandpa loved chickens, something I could never understand, and he always kept a fairly large flock of laying hens. I would usually help by gathering the eggs for grandma in the hen house just behind the home. He seemed to love just sitting and watching them after they had been fed. This was perhaps a relaxing time for him.

Darrouzett, Texas was a small town and not just a community center. There were two grocery stores, a bank, four gas stations and other downtown buildings.

When they first moved into Darrouzett, grandma opened a Millinery shop on the west side of Main street. She made and sold hats and other items to ladies of the area. When I was very young there were three or four vacant lots on the east side of the street and across from grandma's shop. These were filled with old fire boxes from steam tractors which had ceased to be used. They provided an excellent place for boys to play and my friend Theo and I spent a lot of time inside them either hiding or sharing our most intimate thoughts and dreams. They were finally removed when scrap iron was needed during World War II.

We never had a telephone in our home until I was a teenager, but my first knowledge of them was at the switchboard in Darrouzett. The office was only a very small back room in a store building next to the discarded fire boxes. There was an outside door and we boys could watch as the operator answered calls and manually made connection to the called party. The switchboard was only about 2 feet wide with rows of holes on a board above the desk in which lines could be plugged to make the connections. She would listen to the conversation from time to time, and when the conversation was over, she would "pull the plug".

There was also a movie theater at one time. My aunt Olive took me to a movie there and we saw Hoot Gibson and Tom Mix in an exciting western. I'm not sure whether it was a silent or sound movie, but it was the first I had ever seen. An equally exciting experience always took place on Saturday afternoons when people would congregate in town to shop. All the children would assemble in the middle of mainstreet and one of the merchants would throw pennies over the heads of the children. We would all scramble to pick up as many pennies as we could to have money to buy candy or gum. Most of the towns in the area followed the same procedure.

I had never been close to a train except once when I was very small. It seems I remember being on a train with my mother and two sisters. If this is a true experience, it was probably when Dad moved his family back to Oklahoma from Borger, Texas. Mom would have been pregnant with my younger brother at the time and perhaps dad sent the family home on the train and he followed later. Anyway...

Grandpa met the train each day for 16 years and carried the mail from the depot to the post office. He never learned to drive a car so he used a two wheeled cart in which he would place the bags of mail and push them to the post office. He would let me go with him and we always arrived before time for the train. This gave me time to explore around the depot and listen to the telegraph keys clatter. There was always a unique smell inside the depot that perhaps came from the oil used on the floors. There were several benches for waiting passengers but I don't remember anyone ever using them. I can't recall a passenger car ever being on the train, but I suppose if there was an occasional passenger he could ride in the caboose with the conductor. I would also explore the loading dock and the cinder covered walkways while waiting for the train, and sometimes push the large four wheeled wagons a short distance if I was strong enough.

I would keep watch toward the east, always listening for the train's whistle, in anticipation of the train's arrival. It was never a big train nor a large engine but it was the largest thing I had ever seen. The large steam locomotive was a beautiful sight to watch as it came over the hill east of town and approached the depot. I could see the black smoke rising beyond the hill even before I could see the engine. There would be the whoo-whooo of the whistle a couple of times before getting to the station then the clang-clang of the bell as it pulled in. As the train pulled in and the huge drivers turning there would be steam shooting out horizontally from the engine. The ground would shake from the great weight of the engine as it passed by.

Usually, when the train came in, I would stand back against the depot, at a safe distance and watch as the train went by. One day I was standing about 6 feet from the track on the cinder walkway as the train approached. I remember bracing myself and determining I would stand there as the engine passed by. As a little 7 year old boy, I had visions of being scalded or even perhaps being disintegrated by the steam that escaped the massive cylinders. Much to my satisfaction and pride, neither one happened, as I stood unharmed and pleased I had been able to be so close to the huge engine. Grandpa would load the mail sacks into his cart while other freight was loaded onto the large four wheeled wagons that always stood near the depot.

When I was about 8 years old, in 1935, grandpa finally bought a Ford, Model A. He still didn't drive, but Aunt Olive drove him to the depot and post office. No one had drivers licenses in that day, and when I was 8 or 9, I drove for grandpa while Olive was engaged elsewhere. Of course I had to have a pillow under and behind me in order to operate the foot pedals and see the road before me.

I retain many fond memories of Darrouzett, Texas. One summer I was employed by the county Judge (Jenkins) who lived on a small farm just a few blocks from grandpa's house.

I often wonder what happened to one of my best friends, Lynn Roper. His father owned one of the grocery stores at that time and was later elected sheriff of Lipscomb County. The town has always seemed to draw members of my family. My parents would later call it home for several years and there are first cousins who live there today. Almost all of the business section has been closed but there are probably about the same number of residents as when I was a boy.

If you have opportunity to visit Darrouzett, Texas you will also see it is a special place. Perhaps my estimation is slightly exaggerated, since so many of my memories are found there.