My Henley - Wood Line by J Wood

My Henley - Wood Line

submitted by J Wood, woojaq@yahoo.com

Marie Isabelle (Henley) Wood (This is the spelling of her name on my birth certificate)

b. 3 Mar 1921, Dodge City, Ford Co, KS

d. 14 May 1946, Independence, Montgomery Co, KS (Mercy Hospital)

Cause of Death: Double Pneumonia

Resided in Cherryvale, Montgomery Co, KS at time of death

bur. Fairview Cemetery, Cherryvale, Montgomery Co, KS

Obit: Marie Isabelle (Henley) Wood:

Services Saturday for Mrs. T. K. Wood
Funeral services for Mrs. Marie Isabel Wood, 25, whose death occurred yesterday morning at Mercy Hospital, will be held Saturday at 2 PM, at the Presbyterian church in Cherryvale with the Rev. J. Franklin Mitchell officiating. Burial will be in the Fairview cemetery by the Logan Undertaking company.
Mrs. Wood, the wife of Thomas K. Wood of Cherryvale, entered the hospital Saturday after a few days illness. Pneumonia and complications were given as the cause of death. She had been in failing health for five years.
Besides her husband, she leaves two children, (Living). Other survivors are her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Henley of Scott City; two brothers, Clovis L (aka Jake) Henley of Cherryvale and Virgil C. (aka Ted) Henley of Manteca, Calif.; four sisters, Mrs. Hugh (aka Pearl) Macy, Kinsley, Mrs. Orville (aka Velda) Cook and Mrs. Don (aka Melba) Cook, Sallace, and (living).
Mrs. Wood was born March 3, 1921 at Dodge City, and moved to Manning, with her parents where she attended school. Her marriage to Thomas K. Wood, son of Mr. and Mrs. J.C. Wood, Route 2, Cherryvale. Mr Wood is a discharged veteran.

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She married 20 Feb 1937 in Scott City, Scott Co, KS:

Dr Thomas Kenneth Wood

b. 21 Jun 1917, Scott Co, KS

d. 4 Oct 1998, Independence, Montgomery Co, KS

Bur. Independence, Montgomery Co, KS

Cause of Death: Heart Attacks and Strokes

He was a doctor of chiropractic (DC)

He served in the Sea Beas in the Pacific.

World War II Kansas Veterans Index
Surname: Wood
Given Name(s): Thomas
County: Labette
Branch: Navy
Name Service Service # Registration Place Comments
Wood, Thomas K. Inducted 12 February 1945, Navy 9580948 Registered, order # 1184 Parsons, Labette Co. (Board # 2)

Thomas Kenneth and Marie Isabelle (Henley) Wood had two children: Living

His parents:

John Claude Wood (His parents, James Elbert Wood, b. TN, d. MO, Mary Bell Hancock, b. IL, d. MO)

b. 19 Apr 1880, Bates Co, MO
d. 22 Sep 1960, Cherryvale, Montgomery Co, KS

Bur. Fairview Cemetery, Cherryvale, Montgomery, KS

m. 28 Aug 1904

Maude Blanche Hancock (Her parents, Theodore Green, aka Green T Hancock, b. 1846-7, Platte Co, MO, d. Bates Co, MO, Lucinda/Lucina Poindexter, b. TN, d. Bates Co, MO)

b. 13 Dec 1885, Butler, Bates Co, MO

d. 12 Mar 1965, Cherryvale, Montgomery Co, KS

Bur. Fairview Cemetery, Cherryvale, Mongtomery, KS

John Claude Wood was called Claude, and signed his checks J C Wood. He is found under all three names in listings and census.

He and Maude Blanche had the following children:

1. Thomas Kenneth Wood

(see data above)

2. Julia Marie Wood (aka Marie)

b. 25 Sep 1905, MO

d. 2000, Scott City, Scott Co, KS

Cause of Death: Old age. She was 95 years old at time of death.

(See her writings below under "Aunt Marie's Story" and "Our Trip to Western Kansas")

m. John Thomas Kenyon (aka Tom or Old Tom. He was about 25 years older than she was)

3. Arnold Elbert Wood

b. 14 Jun 1909, MO

d. 4 Jan 1997, Scott City, Scott Co, KS

Cause of Death: Parkinson's disease

m. Living

4. Clyde Wilburn Wood

b. 1 Jan 1915, Bates Co, MO

d. 4 Jan 1917, Scott Co, KS

Cause of Death: Family speculations: snake bite (had a small scratch on his foot) or blood poisoning (His mother, Maude, thought he swallowed an old penny)

5. Norma Christine Wood

b. 6 Feb 1911, Rich Hill, Bates Co, MO

d. IL

m. Stopher

6. Myron Wood

b. 8 May 1922, Scott Co, MO

d. Oct 1991, IL

m. 20 Jun 1959, 1. Betty Copeland (3 children, living)

m. 2. Living (4 children, living)

7. Living

m. Living

---------------------------

Marie's parents were:

Floyd Mason/Mason Floyd Henley (Parents: Whitson Kimball Henley, b.13 Aug 1867, Lockwood, Dade Co, MO, d. 9 Nov 1951, Melissa Melvina McDade, b. 19 Aug 1867, IL, d. Aft 1946. Her death has been listed as 1917, but she signed Marie Isabelle Henley Wood's funeral guest register in 1946, therefore she was still alive in 1946.)

b. 30 Aug 1888, Springfield, Green Co, MO

d. 29 Apr 1970, Scott City, Scott Co, MO

m. Anna Pearl Dixon (Parents: Charles McKindry Dixon, b. 3 Aug 1866, Pollock, Sullivan Co, MO, d. 18 May 1925, Larned, Pawnee Co, KS, Bur: Burdett, Pawnee Co, KS, Brown's Grove Cemetery, m. 19 Mar 1892, Hodgeman Co, KS to Mary Angeline Barbee, b. 11 Jul 1873, Milan, Sullivan Co, MO, d. 25 Oct 1933, Fullerton, Hodgeman Co, KS, Bur: Brown's Grove Cemetery, Burdett, Pawnee Co, KS.

b. 19 Sep 1891, Fullerton, Hodgeman Co, KS, d. 7 Sep 1975, Scott City, Scott Co, KS.

Obit: (I have heard that his name was eitherMason Floyd Henley, or Floyd Mason Henley. In all listings I have found, he was listed as either Floyd Mason or just Floyd.

M.F. Henley Dies at his home
M F Henley, 81, died unexpectedly at his home in Scott City last evening. He was a retired farmer and stockman, and had lived here since 1946.
Funeral services will be at 2pm Saturday from the First Baptist Church in charge of Rev. Leof M. Hayes, assisted by Rev. Ted Eppinger, and internment will be in the Scott County cemetery.
Mr. Henley was born Aug 30, 1888 at Springfield,Mo. He was married to Anna Dixon on March 16, 1910 at Kinsley. They moved to a farm in Logan County in 1931, where they lived 15 years before moving to Scott City.
Surviving, in addition to the widow, are four daughters, Mrs. Hugh (Pearl) Macy of Wellsville, Mrs. Orville (Velda) Cook of Monett, Mo, Mrs. Don (Melba) Cook of Scott City and (Living) of Towner, CO; two sons, Virgil (Ted) of Roseville, CA, and Clovis (Jake) of St. Charles, MO; three sisters, Mrs Clara Goodman of Trenton, MO, Mrs. Nellie Burt of Forsythe, MT, and Mrs Jennie Thornton of Kinsley; two brothers, Ray of Forsycthe, MT and Earnestt of Portland, OR; 16 grandchildren and 34 great grandchilren.

Children of Floyd Mason and Anna Pearl (Dixon) Henley are:

1. Marie Isabelle Henley

(See data above)

2. Virgil Charles (aka Ted) Henley

b. 4 Sep 1916, Greensburg, Kiowa, KS

d. 25 Nov 1992, California

m.Mildred Irene Wortman

3. Clovis Leroy (aka Jake) Henley

b. Abt 1922, KS

d. Prob St Charles, MO

m. Betty Barker

4. Melba L Henley

b. 1918, KS

d. Scott City, Scott Co, KS

m. Don Cook (Brother to Orville Cook, below)

5. Velda Henley

b. 6 Dec 1914, Greensburg, KS

d. 10 Mar 2004, Monett, MO

Bur: 13 Mar 2004, 100F Cemetery, Monett, MO

m. Orville Cook (Brother to Don Cook, above)

6. Lois Ilene Henley

b. 19 Nov 1932, Fort Dodge, Ford Co, KS

d. 19 Nov 1932, Fort Dodge, Ford Co, KS

7. Lloyd Melvin Henley

b. 29 Nov 1912, Kinsley, Edwards Co, KS

d. 26 Jan 1921, Dodge City, Ford Co,

8. Living (As of 1998)

9. Living (As of 1998)

Aunt Marie's Stories:

MY MEMORIES
By Marie Kenyon (Julia Marie Wood)
Daughter of John Claude & Maude Blanche Hancock Wood
I will tell you of some of the vivid memories of my childhood as well as some other incidents, which I recall.
Dad and Mamma lived on a rented farm, which was located on the Marais Des Cygne River bottom near Rich Hill, Mo. The river often overflowed its banks. I lack from June 14 to September 25 being 4 years older than my brother, Arnold, so these incidents happened before we moved to the place where Arnold was born.
We had been to Rich Hill and Mamma and Dad had bought a new pair of shoes and a bonnet for me. I was so proud of them! While we were gone the river had overflowed. Dad had to drive the horse and buddy over a bridge that had no rails on the sides. The water came almost to the buggy bed. I remember Mamma saying, "Be careful, Claude. Don't go over the side". Mamma had stood me up on the buggy seat so my new shoes wouldn't get wet if the water came that high. To Mamma's amusement, I held my new bonnet as high as I could above my head so it wouldn't get wet.
I saw her set a mousetrap by the kitchen cupboard and she warned me not to get near it because it would hurt me. As soon as she was out of the room I went over and did exactly what she had told me not to do. Of course, I got my finger caught. She told me not to step outside on the step as it was very icy and I would fall. Of course I did and I fell flat. Doing things that I'm told not to do, I realize is a flaw in my character, and I have fought it all my life. However, in things of major importance I would use better judgment, mainly because I never wanted to shame my parents.
I remember standing at the window waiting for my Aunt Lena and Cousin Jewell. It was hair-washing day. Jewell and I acted up like everything when our own mothers washed our hair, but were little angels when our parents would change places.
The man who owned the farm came often to see how things were going and always brought an apple to me. One time he didn't so I asked for it. I'll never forget the lecture my mother gave me for asking for anything. To this day, I could not ask for food when in someone's home.
We went to town one day and someone had been at the house and left the kitchen door open. There was a hog and chickens in the kitchen. The chickens were on top of the cupboard. I remember Mamma crying. In those days the kitchen had bare floors and were often scrubbed with lye water. The boards would be white from these frequent moppings if you were a good housekeeper and Mamma was.
Mamma's Mother died when Mamma was 9 years old. She said her Father would mop the floor after sending the children to school, so they always had to take their shoes off when entering the house.
I do not remember moving to the place where Arnold was born, but I remember these things while living there.
The house had an upstairs and a glass had been broken out of a window at the top of the stairs. I was barefoot and Mamma told me not to go up there, as I would get glass in my feet. I couldn't see any glass, so of course I went up there and they spent quite some time getting the glass out of my feet. Because I remember so many things when I was a young child makes me realize how important it is for parents to teach children right from wrong at a very early age. I do not know where I was when Arnold was born, but I was there soon afterward. A neighbor woman, Mrs. Bridgeman, was bathing Arnold in front of the coal range. She let me watch while she bathed him, and he urinated. I was shocked and ran to the other room to tell Mamma. She explained that he was a boy baby. That is how I learned the difference between a boy and a girl.
One other incident I remember while living there - my cousin Gordon (we were about the same age) and I took our clothes off and were having a great time jumping and playing in a load of wheat in Dad's lumber wagon. I knew it was bad when Momma spanked me and cried. I knew I had done something wrong, but I wasn't sure for a while whether it was wrong to play in the wheat or to take my clothes off.
I do not remember the move to the next place, but George Baker owned the place. The first thing I remember was taking a doll when we were visiting a neighbor. Mamma did not spank me, but made me take it back and tell the lady that I had taken it.
As my brother Teddy said, "How could you be dishonest and belong to Mamma?"
I asked him what he had taken and he said, "A knife".
Mamma made him return it.
I did get a good spanking with a butter paddle my grandfather had made for Mamma to work her butter It was nice and smooth with a handle. We had been to a neighbor's house for a meal and I didn't behave myself while the man was returning Thanks at the table. On the way home I thought I had made Mamma forget the spanking by talking a lot about going to school the next year, etc. It didn't work. As soon as we got into the house, Mamma got the butter paddle ----
Mamma bought laxative wafers from the Raleigh man. In order to get me to take one, she called them candy pills. She kept them on top of the cupboard. While she was out one day, I climbed up on the cupboard, got them and gave some to Arnold. We went visiting to the neighbors and had a hard time getting home since we had to stop frequently by the side of the road. Mamma was worried - she thought we were really sick, so I confessed to climbing up to get the wafers, to eating several, and to giving Arnold some.
When I was five years old I had the scarlet fever. Mamma was pregnant with Norma. Grandma came to stay with Arnold and me, and Mamma went to Grandma's house. They were all worried for fear Mamma would get the fever from me, although I didn't understand all of this and was very angry at everyone for taking my Mamma away from me. While Grandma was outside telling my mother goodbye I jumped out of bed and cut a big chunk of hair off the front of my head.
Grandma asked me why I did such a thing and I said, "You took my Mother away".
On one trip the doctor made he asked me if I wanted candy pills or banana pills. I told him I wanted bananas and stick candy. Grandma explained that I called gumdrops stick candy because they stuck to my teeth. On his next trip he brought me some gumdrops and bananas. Arnold didn't get the fever so when quarantine was lifted. Dad came for us. He loaded us into the lumber wagon and covered us with quilts. Grandma packed our clothing. Those things were all we had as the house with everything in it was burned the next night. Dad and a brother tracked horse tracks to the home of the owner and always knew that he had burned the place for the insurance, but they couldn't prove it.
I was surprised when we arrived at Grandma's to find I had a new sister, Norma Christine. We were all so proud of her. Arnold was 18 months old and never seemed jealous. He wanted to be near her and protect her.
We moved to a farm on a hill. I would be six in September and was looking forward to going to school. My father told me not to mention George Baker's name in connection with burning down the house where we had previously lived. As usual, I disobeyed and got into trouble. I didn't understand, of course, that the teacher was going with a Baker and that several of the children in school were related to George Baker. They would get in front of me and knock me down, pull my braids, etc., while I was on my way home. I never told my folks but a girl I walked part way home with told her father. He was on the school board, and he told my folks as well as telling them I had used a lot of cuss words (that part I don't remember).
I must say that my father never used swear words in our home or around Mamma and us kids. He would cuss his livestock, and being nosy and having big ears I would catch him doing it. He never abused his animals One time I heard him run a man off the place for hitting one of his horses. Moreover, you had better never kick his dog. I'm very proud of him for that. But - to get back to the Bakers trying to stop me from going home. The school board took the teacher to task about the incident, so I didn't have any more trouble, but I didn't know why. I sure got a lot of questioning about my swearing from my folks, though.
I was probably in the third grade when I got head lice from a girl sitting next to me. Mamma was so upset. Norma was in diapers. Arnold only 18 months older, and she had to cook for threshers. She parted my hair in small sections. My hair was very long (almost to my waist), and she went down each strand with kerosene, and then washed it. This had to be done twice to be sure to get the eggs. I remember Mamma warning me not to scratch my head when the threshing crew came in to eat.
I helped my father plant corn. A wire was set at each end of the field (it was important to a good farmer to have straight rows). I would stay at one end of the field. It made me feel very important. Water had to be pumped for the farm animals, but was not fit for human consumption. Drinking water had to be hauled from another location. My father had heard of the good and plentiful water in Western Kansas as well as the good wheat crops. In 1915 he made a trip to Scott County and told my mother of the many reasons we should move there. On June 16, 1916, after a short stay in Rich Hill while Dad got two covered wagons ready, we started for Scott City. In addition to the two covered wagons, my Uncle Ted, who was 16 years old (I was 10) was to drive a spring wagon which had one seat and no top. It had a place in the back for items similar to today's pick up trucks. We didn't want to leave our Bantam chickens so a rooster and several hens were put in a crate in the spring wagon. Every time we went through a town the rooster would crow. It would embarrass Ted so in an attempt to stop him from crowing, he would pull out a tail feather. Dad caught him doing it and put a stop to that.
After we reached Scott City Ted used the spring wagon and hauled water to a threshing machine crew. He made enough money to buy his ticket back to Rich Hill, with a nice little sum left over. He was a law officer in Rich Hill, Mo., for a number of years. One of his duties was to check the water in the Marais Des Cygnes River each day to see whether or not the water level had lowered or was rising. He was on a four-land highway on his way to do this when a big transport ran over him and his car. He was killed instantly. I think it was in the late seventies or the early eighties.
I saw my first car shortly after we left Rich Hill. It didn't have a top or any doors. The men and women wore automobile caps and dusters and I thought, "When I get rich I'm going to have me an automobile cap and duster". I never dreamed that in six years I would be dating a young man who had a Model T. It had a top and doors but had to be cranked and it had no heater. A year or so later I dated a young man who had a Model A. I loved to drive so he taught me how to drive (still no heater, tho'). Going back to when I saw my first car, the roads in those days were more like trails. Three times before we reached McPherson, Dad pulled a car out of a mud hole with his team, Bob and Bill. He charged them $5.00. Mamma thought that was a little high, but Dad said that if they are rich enough to own a car, they certainly could pay him $5.00 for the use of his horses.
Nothing unusual happened until we reached Marion, Ks., excepting my lips were raw and very sore. Mamma gave me a nickel to buy some heavy cream from a farmwoman. It helped a lot.
We camped about Â¼ mile East of Marion near a farmhouse. Some gypsies were camped nearby. It puzzles me that I do not remember this since it was the first gypsies we had ever seen, but Arnold remembers it vividly as Dad told him to stay near our camp because they sometimes stole little boys. My memory is of the terrible storm that night. It tore the covers off our wagons and we had to take shelter in the upstairs rooms of the farmhouse. A number of things were ruined. Norma was so upset because some of her doll things were ruined. It was there that Dad traded some mules for the pony, Old Bally, who was our pony for as long as she lived. The next day, after the canvas was repaired, we started on West. When we reached the town of Marion the streets were flooded. The water did not run over the bridge, but almost reached it. My father told me I had to drive his wagon through the town. I was not frightened, as I trusted him implicitly. He walked ahead of me, measuring the depth of the water and guiding me. Mamma was driving the other wagon behind me, followed by Ted on the spring wagon. It was scary going over the bridge as drowned hogs, chickens, and all kinds of debris were floating down the river. I felt like they were right under my feet. Dad yelled at me not to look down - to just follow him.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened after that until we camped one night about two miles West of Ness City. There was a crew of men working on the Santa Fe Railroad. They were living in tents near the track they were building. Again an awful wind and rainstorm hit us. It tore the covers off our wagons and blew the tents of the workers over. We took refuge in a four-room house. There was almost standing room only. A man and his son carried his wife into the house. She was hysterical and they had to hold her. I had never seen anyone act like that - Mamma explained that she was so frightened that she didn't know what she was doing. The next day after the wagons were repaired we moved on. We soon arrived near Scott City and camped one mile East. We could see the town. I had never seen so many windmills in my life. The next day we drove into town and Dad found an empty house one mile North of town that he could rent. We arrived in Scott City on June 21, 1916, 21 days after leaving Rich Hill, Mo. We would live there until 1924.
Little Clyde was two years old January 1, 1917. I had always taken a lot of care of him. Everywhere I went I carried him on my hip. One afternoon I was taking a nap. When I awakened I heard him coming up the stair steps. I counted seven steps and waited for him to crawl in bed and wake me up as he often did. When he didn't come into the bedroom, I got up and went downstairs. I asked Mamma why he hadn't come into my bedroom. Mamma said he hadn't been upstairs. I was so sure he had been and told Mamma that I had counted his steps. Seven days later he died from blood poisoning. They could find only a tiny scratch on the bottom of his foot. They wondered if he could have been bitten by a snake, but could find no evidence of it. Mamma also thought he might have swallowed a penny. He died about 6:00 P.M., on June 21, 1917, and our brother Tom was born at 3:00 P.M. June 22, 1917. Mamma was in bed several weeks; she had what they called milk leg. Dad took Norma with him and took Clyde's body back to Missouri for burial. He was buried in the Pleasant Gap Cemetery. Norma was about five years old - cute and pretty as a picture. She had long, almost black curls (which Mamma rolled over her finger each morning) and beautiful blue eyes. So many on the train made over her - buying her candy, bananas, etc. She got sick and vomited. Dad had quite a time cleaning her up.
I was in the sixth grade my first year in Scott City. I had gone to a seven-month school in the country until then, since the city schools were of a nine-month period my 6th grade teacher said she probably would have to put me back into the 5th grade. That upset me and I worried about it. In the first week or so we had a spelling match and I spelled the class down on the word "knot". I never heard anymore about being put back. As a matter of fact I was ahead of the class in most areas. I don't think she had taken into consideration that there were only two of us from the first grade through the fifth. We had lots of help from the teacher. We would be through our regular books ahead of schedule, and I read every book that was in the small library. Mamma had bought a book of Bible Stories and read them over and over. I loved to read and still do.
When I was in the seventh grade an incident occurred that affected my whole life although I didn't realize how much until years later. When school started there was a shortage of books and several students had to use the same book until more came in. One girl told me I could use her arithmetic book and work the problems at home. She would copy them the next morning. She did that and let another girl copy from her paper.
A few days later the teacher told the class that some arithmetic problems had been stolen from a book in the hall. I was horrified when she said, "I want these people to stay in this recess. I told her I had not stolen the paper. She did not believe me. The other two girls admitted they had copied the problems off my paper. That left me the sole thief. I thought I had a lot of friends, but I was not spoken to and was shunned by the rest of the class. I think the thing that hurt me the most was that the teacher did not believe my mother. She had written her a note telling her that I had worked those problems at home and she ignored it. On the 25th of September (my birthday) the teacher told the class that I had not stolen the paper and that I was capable of doing as good work as any one in the class. That should have made me feel good but I was so bitter! When my classmates flocked around me I pushed them away and never had anything to do with them again. This teacher died the year I was teaching and Mamma asked me if I was going to the funeral and I said no.
She said, "Oh, that's the Indian in you", (the one and only time she ever admitted that), but she went on to say, "Marie, you will never be very big until you can forget and forgive". I have thought about that a lot. A few years ago I had a woman say to me, "You never let anyone get close to you. You keep people at arm's length". I thought about that a lot and realized that while I had a lot of friends, I had never since that time had a special friend. Was I afraid I couldn't trust them? Afraid of getting hurt again? I do not know. I could always trust my sister and could always count on her as I did my mother, who was the most honest person I have ever known.
I don't remember anything exciting going on in my freshman year of high school. When I was a sophomore I dated the boy with the Model T Ford. I started playing basketball and before the season was over we beat all the schools around us. Once when we (the boys' and girl's' teams) were going to Tribune to play, Dad didn't have any money to give me, but told me to go to the North End CafÃ© before we left. He would borrow some money and leave it there. He had left me two silver dollars. He didn't want me to be ashamed of not having money for a hamburger or whatever we ate after the game. I never forgot that. My father had never gotten back on his feet after a financial reversal he had a year before. While we were poor at the time my folks were very proud and we were told never to discuss being poor with anyone, to hold our heads high and walk proud. Mamma was always after us to walk erectly.
There would be several cars taking the team members to games. There would be a teacher or parent in each car. Even so, I was always thrilled when one of the players on the boys' team would ask me to ride in the same car he would be in. In those days (1920-21) the roads were dirt, no oiled or paved roads in those days. Often we would get stuck and have to get out and push. We had lap robes and blankets, as it would get very cold, since there were no heaters in the cars. These cars had side curtains that could be buttoned on for winter and taken off in summer.
That winter I started working in a cafÃ© through the noon and evening rush. I had taken piano lessons for several years and substituted playing the piano for the silent movies, whenever the regular player wanted time off. I had memorized a number of pieces since you had to watch the movie and change the music according to the story line. For instance, if the scene was sad a soft slow piece would be played - a fight or storm scene - play one loud and fast. Adult tickets were 25 cents, children, 15 cents. I would get 75 cents. The show would be over at 10 o'clock and I would walk the mile home. We never had to worry in those days about being molested. We never locked doors in those days. In fact we never had locks on the doors until the Clutter Murders on Nov. 15, 1959, 35 miles South of us. A book, "In Cold Blood", was written by Truman Capote and a movie made of it. Since then I keep doors locked day and night and never walk any distance alone at night.
My junior year was the most enjoyable of all. We had a champion basketball team, and won practically every game by a large score. I have lost the news clipping which stated that if the ball went through the center of the court twenty-five times, Marie Wood would have it twenty-three of those times.
I must go back to my sophmore year, because Dad and Mamma were so proud of me. They would get to the game early to get front row seats. One time I missed catching the ball and said, "Darn it". Of course it was near where they were sitting. When I got home my father said, "Marie, if you can't play ball without using that kind of language, you don't need to play any more." We were never allowed to use slang or gutter talk. I'm so thankful to my parents for that and it is still offensive to me to hear it, especially when young kids use filthy words. Tom once said the worst cussing out he ever got - the man never used a bad or swear word. That man had a good vocabulary - He didn't have to resort to filthy words.
Myron was born May 8, 1922, when I was a junior.
My senior year was not so exciting. Most of the girls on the basketball team had graduated. I believe there were just two of us left. While we had a good team, we didn't have a superior one.
After graduation, I decided to go to summer school at Emporia State Teacher's College. My mother's mother was a schoolteacher and Mamma hoped I would teach. Mamma always felt badly about her lack of education. She knew if her mother had lived that she would have been better educated, although she never criticized her father. She thought he did a good job taking care of all of them. When the summer was over I didn't get a school to teach, so continued on at Emporia for the winter and also the following summer.
In the fall of 1924, I taught in a one-room schoolhouse over in Wichita County. I taught Arnold in the 7th grade, Norma in the 6th, and Tommy in 2nd. (Her siblings JW)
In the fall that year I attended a Teacher's Convention. When I arrived in Scott City by train I didn't have a way to get back to school and my home. A girl I know who said she knew a man who had a Buick, and she bet he would take me home (it was a Sunday). She asked him and it was Tom (Kenyon) who volunteered to take me. She went along but before he left he asked me if I wanted him to come to get me for a weekend. I had a friend, Hazel Schoonover, who had asked me to stay with her whenever I was in town. I liked her and her mother always made me feel so welcome.
Tom & I went together that winter, and decided to get married and did so on March 29, 1925. I had given this a great deal of thought, since I was engaged to a professional baseball player. We were to have been married after my school was out. We had met at Emporia when he was in the minor league. (Later I followed his career in the Major Leagues until I didn't see his name anymore). His name was Calhoun Coyle. I had written a letter to him, breaking our engagement. The letter I received in return made me cry, and I kept it in my trunk for a long time. One day Tom got into the trunk and read the letter. Then I burned it. There were other obstacles - the difference in our ages for one. He also had three children: Olivia 15 years, Francis 12, and Tommy soon to be 10. Their mother had been dead for 5 years. I respected and cared a great deal for him. His love for children and the way he had kept the three together against all odds made me really love him. I fully expected to have a large family as my mother had, and wanted a man who would be a good father to them. I could not see following a baseball player around the country with children.
Being a stepmother is not easy and we had problems, mostly caused by their mother's people and outsiders. This problem was resolved a few years later, when their mother's parents and I became good friendsâ€¦I tried very hard to not be angry with them. It was so difficult for them, losing their only daughter and seeing another woman taking over.
After being married for two years I decided to go to a school of Cosmetology. It was difficult not having my own money, and my disappointment in not having a baby became almost unbearable. It took me a year, however, to complete a six-month course. I would stay in school a few weeks, then come home and get everything lined out (food, laundry, etc.), then go back to school. I opened and operated a Beauty Shop for 53 years. I loved the work. Many times people would come in depressed, and would leave walking a little more erectly and proudly, although I doubt if they realized it. It was rewarding work.
We had been married 8 years. I was 28 years old when God blessed us with a very special gift, our son Larry. He was born April 28, 1933, and has brought me pride and joy. He and his lovely wife Carol have given me three dear grandsons and a darling granddaughter. They in turn have delighted me with great grandchildren.
When Larry was a few weeks old, I was playing and talking to him when he cooed. I was so thrilled and hurried to tell Tom. He really laughed and said, "Marie, all babies coo". I was indignant and replied - "Not this young".
We had a little fox terrier dog named Tinker. One day when Larry saw Tinker, he waved his arms and said, "Tinker, Tinker". He was six month's old. When I told Tom that he laughed and said "Don't say that to anyone else. You just imagined it". Several nights later he and Tommy came home and Tinker was with them. Larry was sitting on the divan and waving his arms, said, "Tinker, Tinker". I will never forget the look on their faces. They didn't doubt me again. Larry never crawled; he just got up and walked when he was 11 months old. He also said some words and made short sentences at 11 months, such as "See the dog", "See the car", etc. He probably didn't crawl because I kept him in a play pen most of the time. We had oak floors then and they were cold. He was two years old when we had the terrible dust storms. They would come in a black cloud. The dust penetrated everything except the refrigerator. One storm lasted three days. We would just get something out of the refrigerator to eat. It was impossible to cook. One could not see their own porch light. I kept a handkerchief over Larry's nose and mouth. Many had dust pneumonia and lots of livestock died.
We were in the Great Depression Era and many of us were fighting to keep from losing our homes. Since the crops were so poor, Tom's business was practically nil. I was giving shampoos and sets for 25 cents and perms for $2.95, and not doing much of either of them. I traded for chickens, milk, and even quilts. Hamburger was 2 lbs. For 25 cents. I bought day old bread and cinnamon rolls for 5 cents a package, coal was 25 cents a sack. We got behind on our payments on our home. We were paying $15.00 per month. The F H. A. agreed to add what we owed to the principal if we could start paying the $15.00 a month. By that time the economy was beginning to improve. There were many foreclosures but we managed to keep our home.
Oliva and Bernard lived in California. Their oldest son, Billy, was three and Gary about 6 months. (Larry was two) when she wanted to come home for a visit. Her in-laws argued that it was dangerous to bring those children to Kansas where there were tornadoes and dust storms.
Oliva said, "I lived in Kansas all my life, and California for the past two years. In the past two years I have been in a forest fire, earthquake and flood".
Thy had lived through a disastrous flood that had swept away the houses around them, but their little house was left standing. It was a miracle they were saved.
While they were here visiting, there were a number of rabbit drives. The rabbits were eating what little crops were left and it was necessary to kill them. We went to one of the drives, but I didn't get out of the car. If I remember correctly - people holding hands would circle to a place located in the center with a wire fence enclosure. They would drive the rabbits into the enclosure, where they would then be killed. This was necessary for the survival of the people in this area. However, I could not stand to see the killing. I can still hear the screams of the rabbits, and would never go on another drive.
Teddy was born May 27, 1927. Mamma and Dad lived 25 miles out in the country. Their car was broken down when Mamma knew it was time for the baby to arrive. Dad sent Arnold by horseback to a neighbor to bring Mamma to town. Teddy was born in our home and I was thrilled to take care of him until Mamma was up and around. When Dad came in after Teddy was born the doctor said, "Mr. Wood, you have another "Little Splinter".

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OUR JOURNEY TO WESTERN KANSAS
by Julia Marie Wood (Kenyon)
June 1968
My father had been told about the abundance of water and the good crops raised in western Kansas. In 1915 he looked over the western part of the state and decided Scott City would be a good place to rear his family and to provide for them. He painted a glowing picture to my Mother. I think she decided it would be the thing to do to move to Scott City, when he told her they would never have to haul water to drink, never have to bring water up from the well with a bucket and a rope and never have to prime a pump and pump water for the livestock. Mamma had done this so much when Dad was busy in the field.
We, my father, mother, brother Arnold (7 years), sister Norma (5 years), brother Clyde (1 1/2 years), myself (10 years) and Uncle Ted (16 y/o) left Rich Hill, Missouri June 1, 1916 and arrived in Scott City June 21, 1916. A total of about 400 miles in 21 days.
A year later to the day (June 21, 1917) our brother Clyde died of blood poisoning. The same night (June 22, 1917) our brother Tom was born.
This was not the pioneer days, but Dad felt he could move his family, furniture and some livestock cheaper by covered wagon than by train. Dad drove one wagon, Mamma another and Ted drove a Spring Wagon. It was lighter than a Lumber Wagon without a top but with two seats. It was the conveyance we used when we went to church and other places as a family. You must remember that in those days there were no paved or graded roads. The roads were more like trails since horse drawn buggies and wagons were the means of transportation.
A few days after starting our trip, I saw an automobile for the first time. It didn't have any doors or top and it was stuck in the mud. The man and woman had on dusters (a long light weight coat), automobile caps (rather a large crown with a bill) and goggles. These were designed to protect them from the sun and dust. I remember thinking, when I grow up and am rich I will have that kind of apparel, never dreaming that in less than six years I would date a boy with a Model T with doors and a top and would never wear that kind of clothing.
My father unhitched a team of horses and pulled the car out of the mud charging them $5.00 which was a lot of money in those days. My father reasoned that if they were rich enough to have a car they could afford his price. As I remember he pulled two other cars out of the mud before we reached Marion. I do not remember seeing any after that.
At Marion, Kansas we camped about 1/4 mile east of town on a small hill across the road from a large two story house (the house is still there, in 1968.) There was a very bad rain storm with high winds, in the night. It blew the top off of one of our wagons and flooded the town. We took shelter in the farmhouse the rest of the night. My sister grieved because she lost her doll and doll buggy and remembers the incident vividly. The canvas blew off the wagon they were in.
The next morning, my father and Ted repaired the wagon and Dad traded with the farmer for a pony (Old Bally) who was the family pony until her death many years later.
We resumed our travels about noon the next day and this time I drove the lead wagon while my father walked, leading the way through the flooded town measuring the depth of the water with a pole. I was not frightened since I had implicit faith in my father, but was a little nervous upon seeing dead chickens, hogs and debris going rapidly under the bridge as we crossed it.
My next memory of the trip is McPherson, Kansas. The main street was brick paved and I loved the clippity clop sound the horses' feet made and was sorry when we hit the dirt road again.
A number of days later we made camp west of Ness City, Kansas. Before camping we passed a country store and Dad bought some homemade butter and twelve loaves of home made bread. We had a feast that night. We camped near a four-room house. There were a number of tents near where railroad workers and their families were living while the men were building the Santa Fe Railroad into Scott City. That night a wind and rainstorm took the top off of one of our wagons and flattened the tents. We fought our way by holding on to one another, against the rain and wind to the house. When the occupants of the tents arrived there was hardly standing room. One woman was hysterical and her husband and son were trying to calm her. This was the first time I had ever seen any one hysterical and was shocked to see any one act that way. The husband and son were also trying to pick the stickers out of her bare feet.
Several days later we camped three miles east of Scott City near an abandoned farmhouse. The weeds had grown tall and my father gave us a lecture about rattlesnakes and to watch out for them. We could see the town from our campsite and the town looked like it was on wheels upside down because of so many windmills.The next day we moved to a house one mile north of Scott City and lived there until 1924.
The trip was especially hard on my Mother trying to cook over a campfire for seven and driving one of the wagons and doing other things for the family. It was a hard time for me also. My lips had gotten sore and swollen. One time Mamma gave me 5 cents to buy some separated cream from a farmer and I kept them saturated with the cream. It was my job to take care of Clyde and everywhere I went he was on my hip. I loved taking care of him. He was a sweet, adorable baby.
My brother, Arnold, remembers a band of gypsies camped near us at Marion, Kansas. He was so afraid of them. I would imagine our Dad told him to stay near us as they sometimes stole little boys. I'm surprised that I don't remember them, as they were probably the first gypsies that I had ever seen. There are no doubt many interesting things Dad, Mamma and Ted could tell if they were here.
My brothers, sister and I raised such a fuss about leaving our Bantam chickens that Dad put them in a crate in back of Uncle Ted in the Spring Wagon. Every time we arrived in a town they would crow and cackle.
(It seems there should be more to this tale, but I can find no more. J Wood)