Cherokee Strip by David Mullendore

[Dee Gee]

Copied from a saved folder.

                  MY MEMOIRS of the CHEROKEE STRIP

                          Note of Explanation

At the request of my many good friends, I have attempted to outline in the following comments my most interesting experiences during the opening of the Cherokee Strip.
Dave L. Mullendore
                            Wichita, Kansas     April, 1947

For some time there had been rumors, but it was not until August 19, 1893 that President Cleveland issued his proclamation that on September 16, 1893} the lands of the Cherokee Strip, or more correctly, the Cherokee Outlet, would be opened for settlement.

Several days later we got the news in the Kansas City Star and the following morning he "Opening" was the chief topic of discussion around the breakfast table. I had just turned twenty-one and the thought of making the run took possession of my thoughts for I was confident that adventure and for tune awaited me in this great stretch of unclaimed frontier.

Things had to happen fast for there was much planning and preparation ahead. Our party grew as the project developed. First, my brother Erd,(E. C. Mullendore) joined me, then two young men who were neighbors, Charlie and Harry Swartwood, decided to make the run, and a cousin by the name of Ergenbright offered to drive the chuck wagon for us. Father was a true frontiersman and his endorsement of our proposed project served to anoint our idea with even greater enthusiasm.

I owned a splendid horse. He was Hambletonian stock and every inch horse--race horse. Brother Erd also owned a fine young gelding and we planned to ride our mounts in the "run,"for I felt that there would not be a horse in the race that could out distance my horse, and brother was just as confident of his mount.

In order to insure the perfect condition of our horses, we immediately set up a training schedule for them. We ran them every morning; first, for a two mile stretch, then after a day or so the distance was increased to four; and later on a six mile heat was run every morning. This was followed with a brisk rub-down and plenty of oats. The horses thrived on this strenuous training routine.

The whole summer was hot and dry. Days on end the sun swung across a steel grey sky and hammered the hot, thirsty land pitilessly until the western rim of hills shut out the relentless glare. August trailed past and September came but there was no rain and not a cloud to blot out the sun that every day pushed the thermometer up to 106 degrees in the shady places.

Early on the morning of September the 10th, we pulled out of our ranch on Clear Creek in Elk County and headed for the line, going by way of Atlanta, Floral, Winfield and then to Arkansas City. We made camp on the banks of Snake Creek, just south of Arkansas City on the evening of the 12th.

My cousin, Ergenbright, drove the chuck wagon. The weather was unmercifully hot and water and feed were scarce. Occasionally we found water for the horses in the streams we crossed but for the most part we had to buy stock water and our drinking water whenever and wherever we could find it. We were also forced to buy hay when the supply we had ran out, and it was a scarce and expensive item.

The following morning after our arrival, those of us who were going to make the run were issued a number, which we pinned on our coats. It took us two days to register and it was a hot, wearisome task standing in line hour after hour in all the excitement and confusion. The United States Militia was hard put to keep law and order; in fact, it was next to impossible to manage the milling mob. The unbridled hysteria of the uproarious throng was uncontrollable and there was considerable gambling for such a scene presented a playground for the unscrupulous artists of the "shell game," galloping dominoes, and "bottom of the deck dealing." For a group of young lads never before away from the protective environment of home, all this was a great experience and a most liberal education.

Our starting point for the race was four miles south and four miles west of Arkansas City on the Meridian Line, immediately west of the Chilocco Indian School. Using the sun for compass, and starting on the Meridian Line as we were, we knew we could ride due south and locate our claims somewhere near where we had planned. Our calculations were very accurate for we stuck our stake on the Meridian Line two miles south and two east of where Blackwell, Oklahoma now stands.

Bedlam was really off the reservation, so to speak, on the morning of the 16th. A seething mass of 30,000 persons boiled like a huge cauldron in the dust-choked, sun-beaten air. The excitement and tension were terrific. Two hundred feet back from the border the great line was formed. Men and women from every walk in life—in buggies, buckboards, wagons, on horse back, and men on foot fretfully waited for high noon and the signal to dash over the border to new lands and new hopes.

At the stroke of twelve o'clock noon, a hundred United States carbines cracked sharply in the hot, dry air, and all the pent up exultation was released from 30,000 dry, dust-clogged throats in a chorus of spine-tingling yells as the great seething mass dashed over the border like a huge cloud of wind-whipped smoke.

The hard training we had given our horses proved its value at that very moment for we shot out from the charging ruck like an arrow, leaving the bow string. On through the heat and dust we rode as our horses lathered and the hot wind burned our faces.

Using the sun as a guide post, we held fast to the Meridian Line until, sixteen and a half miles across the line, fifty-two and a half minutes later, brother Erd stuck his claim, a beautiful quarter section of bottom land, two miles south and two east of where Blackwell, Oklahoma now stands.

Leaving my brother, I continued to ride south for four and a half miles and there stuck my claim. While waiting for my horse to cool, for he was lathered to the knees, I looked over the claim – the scenery was beautiful, and while I was admiring the surroundings and thinking of my good fortune, I
saw a herd of deer cross an open park in the timber. But my happiness was of short duration. I lingered about four hours allowing my horse to cool off and get his wind, and then, just as I was becoming completely satisfied with my lot, I found that I had over-run the "Strip" and had stuck my claim just 127steps over the line—consequently, I had no claim. I soon learned that the piece of land had been alloted to an Indian squaw.

The excitement was over and I had failed. Naturally, I felt mighty low and on top of all this my real hardships began. My only comforting thought was the fact that my brother and I had agreed, at the outset of our planning that if only one of us was successful in staking a claim, we would share equally in the expenses, hardships, and the benefits.

With these thoughts running through my mind, I started out to look for my brother and finally located him after considerable difficulty for there was confusion everywhere. Where my cousin was with the chuck wagon no one knew, and we were hungry and tired with no prospects of food or a place to rest save on our saddle blankets under the stars.

The following morning was spent locating the chuck wagon and breakfast. After getting together we all felt better and set to work showing signs of proving up on the claim my brother had stuck. We felled several trees and cut logs for the foundation of a cabin. The shack, and that was all it was, when completed, was 12x14. feet and served us as a home for one and a half years. Our only companion while living on the claim was our English bulldog, Mike, who shared in our ups and downs, and did his best to look after our safety

    After the shack was completed, it had to be furnished. The furnishings were meager, to say the least. There was a small sheet iron camp stove that we set up on top of a big, strong goods box. The goods box served as a cupboard, pantry, and general storage closet. At the opposite end of the small room, we built an oat bin and on top of this we made a bed. A straw ticking, and not too thick at that had to serve us without the benefit of springs.

    When this work was finished there came the heavy task of breaking the sod, building a barn for our horses and all the other general farm work that we wanted completed before cold weather set in. The fall weather was mild and very dry. We took some time off occasionally, to visit around through the community, and attended hearings in connection with disputes on claims.

Spring finally came and the crops were planted, but the drought continued; it seemed as though it just couldn't rain. Our crops withered and failed. We didn't raise a thing, which was very discouraging for we were only youngsters away from home and battling a wilderness.

As might be expected, we had our full quota of hardships. There was a prairie fire that all but wiped us out. It was started by some people who thought it might be fun. Where they got such an idea I do not know for the grass was dry and burned like powder. Then there was the trip to Perry, Oklahoma to the Land Office, where we had to go to file on the piece of land. We went by wagon and were two days going and two returning. We lived out of the chuck box and slept on the ground.

Another difficulty we encountered occurred when a man by the name of George Vaughn claimed that he had filed on our quarter section before brother Erd had stuck the claim. After considerable bickering, Vaughn agreed to settle for $400, but he wanted the money in gold. This necessitated a hard, long trip by wagon to Perry, Oklahoma, where we were able to get the money in gold from the First National Bank.

We had neighbors all around us as someone was proving up on every, quarter section claim, but we were, nevertheless, living on the frontier. Times were rough and we were subjected to all the hardships and lawlessness of the frontier.

I remember one day I started on horse back to visit my neighbor who lived over across the creek. I had crossed the stream and was riding through the timber and underbrush on the opposite bank when my horse snorted and wheeled. There, hanging from a limb of a large tree, was a man. I was so startled that I couldn't say "whoa" to my horse.

I reported my discovery to the United States Marshall but we were never able to find out whether the dead man, was a "claim jumper" or that a "claim jumper" wanted the poor fellow out of the way on, the theory that "dead men won't talk."

The law of the frontier prevailed. Hold-ups, shooting, and hangings were quite common and we law abiding folk slept with one eye open and a rifle lying across the foot of our beds.

One time, two friends, Dan Hurst and Justin Nowels, were spending the night with me. I kept Mike, our English bulldog, tied to the door jamb. He was a real watch dog and he took his duties seriously. My two friends and I piled into the one and only bed and were soon fast asleep. About one o'clock in the morning Mike woke us with his barking. It was a bright moonlight night and when I pulled the curtain back from the small window above the bed, I saw four men huddled together just a short distance from the house. My friends were scared stiff and I didn't feel too good about the looks of things. When I slipped out of bed and pumped a cartridge into the chamber of my old 44 rifle, my company got down on the floor of the shack and sprawled flat.


Dan Hurst said, "Leave'em be, Dave, for they might make trouble."

"No, I'm goin' to see what they're up to," I said as I quietly opened the door and slipped outside into the shadow of the shack.

Mike was barking and pulling on his chain, like he wanted to tear the intruders apart. Directly, when I could quiet the dog a bit, I put all the authority I could muster into my voice and called, "What do you men want?"

Well, sir, they jumped like I had shot at them. Then one of them said in a meek voice, "Oh, nothin'.....nothin' a'tall. We're 'coon huntin' an' just stopped here a minute to wait for the rest o' our gang to catch up."

Once, when my friend Charlie Swartwood was visiting me, I decided to get him to help me plant a tree close to the shack. We went down to the creek and grubbed up a little elm sappling and carried it up to the clearing. After digging the hole where I wanted the tree planted, Charlie held the sapling in place while I packed the dirt in around the roots. Directly, in his droll manner, Charlie said, "Dave, you can tell your boys old man Swartwood helped you plant this tree."

I had a good laugh at the time but years later I did show the tree to my boys and the big elm is standing there today. And now, looking back on the scene as it was in those days—with the privations, the hardships, and dangers associated with frontier living, I wouldn't change a thing. It was all a good experience—yes, a great privilege to be a member of the vanguard of fine, courageous men and women who broke the sod of the Cherokee Outlet that a prairie empire might be erected to bless posterity for all time.

[Janet Harrington]

Oh, yeah.  I liked that article.  I almost felt like I was there.

[kfclark]

Dee Gee,
That article parallels so closely the story of my Great Grandfather George Wallace Denton and his brother William (Billy) Hardeman Denton. They came from Elk County, and staked claims southeast of Blackwell. What a wonderful article to add to my files.   I wonder if the W.F. Denton in the picture might actually be Uncle Billy? Their father's name was James Faunt Denton. Do you know anything more about the picture?

[Dee Gee]

Sorry Kfclark about being so long in replying but after looking through my files I don't find anything more about W. F. Denton.

[Bonnie M.]

MY MEMOIRS of the CHEROKEE STRIP

What a great article!  Do you suppose that place is still in their family?

[Diane Amberg]

  Billy was W.H. Denton, not W.F. Denton and that man doesn't look like the photos I have of him.

[Roma Jean Turner]

 Great article.  My great grandmother Turner's brother Samuel DeWhitt was in that land run as well.  Up in Medford Co, OK there is a wall with all the names of the people engraved on it, that made that run.  Sometime I want to go see it.  Last weekend in Ponca City, I saw a great bronze sculpture commemorating that run.  It stands in front of their City Hall.

[flo]

My grandfather was going to make this run.  He had left home at an early age and for some reason didn't know how old he was. When he went to register and gave them his age, he was told he was two years too young.  An uncle doing genealogy many years later discovered that Granddad was two years older than what he thought he was, so guess he could have made the run after all.  OMG, I could be an Okie instead of a Kansan.  Anyhow he and Grandma settled in Gueda Springs and lived there for a time.

[frawin]

There's a very interesting museum just south of Arkansas City regarding the "Run".  If you are ever down that way, you might find it interesting to stop in.

[Ole Granny]

There's a very interesting museum just south of Arkansas City regarding the "Run".  If you are ever down that way, you might find it interesting to stop in.

Thanks, I will check it out.  Great Grandfather and his oldest son did the run.  Should be interesting.