Between the Lines: Family History and Quirky Stories From Our Forgotten Past

  Bill Cook (1872-1900)       U.S. D eputy Marshalls S.T. Wyckoff and Bill Smith rode their horses onto the rolling prairie of Arthur Dodge’s XU ranch outside of Lenapah, Indiana Territory, January 12, 1895. They were there to see two of his ranch hands, Clyde Barbour, 19; and Dooley Benge, 20. It wasn’t the first time Dodge had lawmen on his property looking for outlaws. The northeastern portion of the Territory, where Lenapah is, was called “Land of the Six-Gun,” or “Robbers’ Roost.”      The two were arrested without incident and taken to the scene of their crime: the Lenapah train depot. It wasn’t to have them review what they’d done, but to put them on a train bound for Fort Smith, Arkansas.         Crimes committed in Indian Territory - the I.T. - were tried in federal court, the U.S. Court for the Western District of Arkansas in Fort Smith, which is why Clyde and Dooley soon found themselves far from home. The court was presided over by the infamous “Hanging Judge,” Isaac Parker

             Family, food, faith, fashion, friends and furnishings. These were assumed to be the only topics of interest women had in the 1880s and ‘90s. President Grover Cleveland was hardly alone in his firm belief that “a woman should not bother her head about political parties and public questions.”   But advertisers realized women made most of the household purchasing decisions, so they wanted them reading the newspaper. The “Women’s Pages” were born. To me, the recipes and menus are fascinating. They are a glimpse of how our ancestors ate. Some of the menus and recipes were probably aspirational. One thing I’ve learned is how much bread and cornmeal mush people ate, and how prevalent molasses was in their diet.When was the last time you poured some molasses on your food? It is also interesting how much the mid-day meal was the big meal, and that supper was so light. The word “luncheon” did not begin substituting for “dinner,” until about 1910.        I stumbled upon three menus

Lucius Taylor Barbour, age 20, in the 12th Indiana Volunteer Infantry, Co. K       Imagine opening your newspaper and seeing a full-paged ad, with the bold headline, “How many homes have been made happy by the cure of drunkeness?  DRUNKENESS IS A DISEASE. It can be cured.” The ad was accompanied by 20 testimonials from cured patients, and another 14 letters from the governor of Minnesota, the mayor of Minneapolis, and a plethora of ministers endorsing this wonderful cure. Imagine if you are struggling with “inebriation” – or the wife of one who is. Here was hope . This was the promise of the Keeley Institute, a nineteenth century addiction treatment center.       My great-grandfather is Clyde Banta Barbour. He was very close to his uncle, Lucius Taylor Barbour, a Civil War veteran who was captured and held as a prisoner of war in the notorious Andersonville Prison (and at other Confederate prisons). That Lucius made it out alive is rather remarkable – about a third of Andersonvill

    I t must have seemed like a good idea at the time. Freshman Congressman Walter Halben Butler was passionate about the pansy. He was a member of the Pansy Society of America, and on his lapel wore a large pansy pin in bronze, with a diamond in the center.    On December 18, 1892, he introduced a bill in Congress to alter the U.S. flag so the stars would be arranged in the shape of a single, large pansy. He also introduced a bill to have the pansy named as the national flower, a symbol of unity, culture and peace.   “Be it enacted…that on the day after the 4 th of July of 1893, the flag of the United States of America shall consist of…” the language of his bill began. It described the way the stars would be set inside the pansy to have the “effect at a distance of a white pansy in a blue sky.”   The idea didn’t originate with him. The language he used in his bill and in interviews was taken directly from the Pansy Society. The Society was founded in 1891 by a gadfly name