Oklahoma Today Volume 41 Issue 5

52 Pages·1991·10.6 MB·English

by  Oklahoma Today

OFFICIAL MAGAZINE OF THE STATE OF OKLAHOMA
OKLAHOMA

September-October 1991 Vol. 41,No. 5

F E A T U R E S
A FISHING TALE
8
It happens at least a thousand times each fall: a man takes his son fishing. If supper
is actually caught, so much the better. By Rabh Mad
ROAD TRIP! 13

The leaves are turning, the road is calling right outside your back door, and if you use
our four itineraries loosely, we've made our point. By Shamn Martin,photographs
by David Fiagerald
SKY RAMBLERS 28

As airplanes go, the little yellow Piper Cubs are kind of ...wimpy. But when it comes
to foliage-watching they're the best seat in the house. Story andphotographs by Robetl R.
Mercer
THE LIFE AND WORK OF MIRAC CREEPINGBEAR 33

The layers of Mirac Creepingbear, both as an artist and a Kiowa man, can be found
in one place. In the brushstrokes on his paintings. By Joan Frederick Denton
THE ELOQUENTsASIAN PEAR 38

Compared with an average
Oklahoma orchard, how
different could a Japanese pear
orchard be? Try: Fruits that
are pollinated with tiny brushes
and then swaddled in paper
bags... Story by Max J. Nic/ro/s,
photographs by Steve Sisne y
I

D E P A R T M E N T S
ONE ON ONE 4

IN SHORT 5

LETTERS 6

OMNIBUS Saved by a Hatband; by Ola Belle Williams 7

PORTFOLIO Tour on the Prairies 22

FOOD Calf Fries, by Jeanne M. Dtwlin 43

WEEKENDER Medicine Park, by Joel Everett 45

ARTS The Violin Maker, by Sharon Gomans 47

ENTERTAINMENT CALENDAR A guide to what's happening 49

COVER: Sailboats docked at Two-J's Marina on Ft. Cobb Lake. Photograph by David
Fitzgerald. Insidefront cover: Methodist Boxcanyon. Photograph by Richard Day. Back
cover: First United Methodist Church in Tahlequah. Photograph by Gordon Larkin.
September-October 1991 3
Foliage For
Sanbois Mountains and longer breaks
for sampling regional menus. "It's all
Folderol going so well," I'm sure my parents
were thinking, when I happened to
glance at the map and notice the num-
7 ve always approached the fall ber of miles logged, the amount of time
with a little trepidation. In lapsed, and the fact that neither parent
theory, I love the season-the had yet to so much as hint that the trip
idea of a young leaf turning into had reached its natural conclusion.
a golden version of itself has always "Isn't it about time to head for
made me feel good about the aging home?" I asked from the back seat.
process. No comment from the front seat.
If the truth be known, however, I've "If we don't turn around soon," I
never forgotten that a fall foliage tour added in that calm, matter-of-fact way
cut my trick-or-treating career short. adolescents adopt when talking to re-
The year was 1970, and, unbe- calcitrant parents, "won't we get home
knownst to my sisters and I, Mom and too late to go trick-or-treating?"
Dad had decided their young brood Forget about a picture saying more
had become embarrass- than a thousand words;
ingly big for the annual AfoLiage tour se-emed ,.heir silence told me
heist of, Halloween appr~pr~ate-tora more than I wanted to
goodies. The previous family always at its know. It also jerked my
year, my eleven-year-old two younger siblings to
the road'
On
self had dwarfed most of
attention. "Aren't we
the children who swarmed the neigh-
going to go trick-or-treating?" they
borhood collecting bags full of pennies,
cried.
apples, and candy.
No comment. "Oh my," I recall
In hindsight, I do not find it surpris- thinking as I sunk back into my seat.
ing my parents saw need to end my Mom and Dad may remember the
Halloween forays ...only that I never remainder of the trip (we did eventu-
saw it coming. As we loaded into the ally head for home) as a parental
Rambler that fateful day, a foliage tour nightmare, but I don't. In the end,
seemed the epitome of civilized be- coursing down highways past farm-
havior-appropriate for a family that houses with pumpkins grinning from
was always at its best on the road. the porch, under canopies of street-lit
We drove east from Stillwater on maples, and by woods as golden as the
S.H. 51, by the woods of Keystone inside of any cathedral seemed to me
Lake, then south to the hills and dales a rite of passage. Another step in the
around Robbers Cave State Park. The human aging process, if you will.
image of traveling bliss intensified. Before the car turned into our drive-
One sister spotted a stand of red way, it was dark, and we'd seen our
maples. Another a blaze of sumac. share of little goblins flitting up yards
Conversation moved from picking pe- and knocking on front doors and haul-
cans to the merits of sorghum over ingaway the fruits of their work. But as
maple syrup to an easy rendition of we unloaded the spoils of our road
"'This Land Is Your Land, This Land trip-a nice round rock, another fam-
Is My Land." All in all, a stranger would ily memory, a jar of homemade pre-
have been hard put to say who was serves, I realized my parents had
being most entertained by the autumn weaned us from one American tradi-
outing: the children or the adults. tion, by giving us another to fill the void
As on any good road trip, there was a it left behind. It seemed a fair ex-
short pause for stretching legs in the change. Jeanne M. Devlin
4 Oklahoma 'I'ODAY
Ih.

'1
eisiger ever hadthat the Oklahoma
ust Bowl was, well, just a tadoverblown
ame while doing an oral history with her 3

Discussing life in Oklahoma City in the
30s, she asked him about his memories of $
he Dust Bowl. "And he just looked at
A wropper andh isfamily enrering Caf ifomia in 1937.
e," marvels Weisiger. "I remember

chinking, 'This is weird that he doesn't

know about this.' "
eye-opening. Yes, there was a Dust Bowl Dust Bowl theories as they pertained to
Then she did a bit more research. Her in pan of Oklahoma between 1935 and Oklahoma. Most now blame, among other
discovery: only five of Oklahoma's 1938. And, yes, 309,000 Oklahomans did factors, poorly conceived federal agricul-
seventy-seven counties were in the Dust leave the state between 1935 and 1938. tural programs for the exodus. In the last
Bowl region. Of those five, all bur two The catch: only 22,000 of them left from decade historians have tried to set history
counties were in the Panhandle. Kansas as the Dust Bowl. "It's actually a coinci- straight. It is not, however, the stuff of
a state was far more affected by the black dence in time," Weisiger explains. evening news reports.
blizzards of dust than was Oklahoma, as Journalists, historians, and even federal In an attempt to get the word out to the
were parts of Texas, New Mexico, and migration experts saw news reports of average man, Weisiger got a grant to stage
Colorado. Oklahoma dust being carried as far as the an exhibition on the topic. "1 felt this was
For Weisiger, it was as if her whole dusty steps of the Capitol, saw Oklahomans an opportunity to make an impact on how
image of Oklahoma had been thoroughly relocating to California, Arkansas, Oklahomans perceive that period of time."
scrubbed. Missouri, and Arizona, and thought the And, ultimately, how we see ourselves.
Her research led next to Dust Bowl two were linked. Few, of course, ever The exhibit, which includes sixty
migration as personified in the Joad actually visited Oklahoma. Depression-era photographs, runs through
family in John Steinbeck's novel "The Over time, migration experts like Paul October 20 at Norman's Santa Fe Depot,
Grapes of Wrath." That proved equally Taylor of California came to rethink their 1 200 South Jones.
I
Indian Treasures in I artists that reads like a who's who of
1 Oklahoma Indian art: Fred Beaver,
A Villa Woody Crumbo, Jerome Tiger, Monroe
Renovated Philbrook
Tsatoke, Acee Blue Eagle, Richard West,
Archie Blackowl.
1
Since its beginning in 1939, the 5 The exhibit is based largely on a
Philbmok Museum of Art has nurtured k13 painting collection built by Philbrook
two things: its Waite Phillips villa and its through purchases from its American
collection of American Indian paintings. Indian Annual, a national exhibition held
So it's appropriate that when Villa B
from 19% to 1979. In its heyday, the
Philbrook reopens October 29 after a $17 -5 annual juried competition was the most
million restoration, it will do so as the important national showcase for Native
P
permanent home of the museum's American artists.
American Indian collection. Its lower The exhibition will be in the
level will house not only a treasure trove Richard IVest's "Chevenne Sun Dance: FitJt LaFortune Mezzanine Gallery through
(
of Indian art and artifacts. but visible Painting of tkc ~hird'~a"y . September 8. The museum is located at
storage so visitors can see the depth of 2727 South Rockford Road in Tulsa. For
the museum's permanent collection. unveiling is an exhibition this month of information on the exhibit or the Villa
A fitting prelude to the October paintings by Oklahoma Native American opening, call [phone].
September-October1991
Letters
homa and its history without getting off homa until they've actually see
the beaten path, and that is what you Oklahoma, such as in the beautifu
accomplish with your magazine. photography of your terrific magazin
We tend to take our state for granted Thanks to your magazine and infor
Joel Everett's "Zen and the Art of but are reminded how really lucky we mative articles; it makes me appreciat
Bicycle Touring" in the May-June '91 are when we see the reactions of our the state even more. Please keep u
issue of Oklahoma Today is an excep- out-of-state friends when we show the wonderful photography and
tional article. them your articles. You make me truly proud of bein
3
Reading his wonderful narrative de- I'd like to send all of my "Okie" from Oklahoma!
scriptions of the ride, the scenery, and relatives who are living out-of-state a Perry Rarno
the feelings and emotions of the riders, gift subscription, but choose my favor- Alameda, Californi
one becomes very involved and imag- ite uncle as the recipient. 1
ines riding along, dodging the armadil- Keep up the good work. I'm a native Oklahoman and also i
los and straining to reach the areas of Willma Carry the services. Most of the time when I
rest along the route. Sacramento, California read the articles in Oklahoma Today, I
Let us have more articles by Joel get homesick. I'm always telling my
Everett. Congratulations on being named shipmates that the only thing better
Shirlee L. Parman Regional Magazine of the Year! The than the Atlantic is the Oklahoma sky.
Pryor Regional Publishers Association made Thanks for keeping the USS
the right decision. We enjoy the O'Bannon entertained.
Some of us were ringing cowbells magazine very much! T.L. Lyons
and waving "American Flags." The fire As for the name of the father of the Petty ofher 3rd Class
trucks were there. Some were honking father-son team of stonemasons who Miami, Florida
horns as we gathered to welcome an- helped build the Roman Arch Bridge
other convoy of busses from the Middle in Kay County (July-August 1991), he Just had to tell you how much my
East. was my great-grandfather: John family has enjoyed many years of
The troops had just landed at Altus Christmas (he was born December 25, reading your magazine. We were born
Air Force Base and were on their way 1845) Armstrong. He owned and oper- and raised in Oklahoma and have
to Ft. Sill for the official welcome home ated the quarry there in Newkirk. traveled over most of it. However, we
ceremony. What a joy it is to welcome Mary Lou Lawton find new places to go with every issue.
these men and women back to the good Elizabethtown, Pennsylvania We have now subscribed for three
old U.S.A. friends and relatives in Oklahoma, one
If you could only see the expression I ventured back to the Sooner State in Wyoming, one in New Mexico, and
on their faces, see and experience the in 1989 after a sixteen-year absence. one in Arizona, and they enjoy it also.
excitement, exuberance, and anticipa- Not to my surprise, there was beauty Thanks for such an interesting publi-
tion of once more getting to see grass everywhere, from the green, hilly re- cation.
instead of just sand-green trees, gion around Tenkiller Lake southward Boyce Timmons
creeks, cattle, and horses, instead of towards gigantic Lake Eufaula. The Norman
camels. Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge
Thank you Oklahoma Today for was as scenic as ever, the glistening Wegoofedin the May issue on page 5. Don
sharing Oklahoma Today with E-4 Jef- lakes beckoning me to drop a fishing Mulhix, Jr., operates an auto detailshop
frey D. Heath who was among those on line in, which I did. in the Route 66 town of Elk Cify, not in
one of those returning busses. Just last year I made a return Okla- Clinton.
Mrs. John 0.Robinson homa visit, wanting to see more. Going
Cache southward to Broken Bow Lake and
NEXT ISSUE: Cedar trees may

Beavers Bend State Park, the forested,
be the bane of our existence 364

Since I first bought an issue of mountainous terrain reminded me of
days of the year, but one day

Oklahoma Today, in which you printed the Lake Tahoe area of California.
each year they reign in splendid

an article on Decoration Day in rural That's one myth that I've been try-
glory. That day is Christmas, and

Oklahoma towns and interviewed two ing to convey to my California
in a special set of stories we'll

friends of mine, I have been meaning friends-that Oklahoma is not the
explore our ethnic roots through

to let you know what a good publication stereotypic flat farmland and oil wells
tree ornaments in the next issue

it is. they've always pictured in their minds.
of Oklahoma Today.

The tourist doesn't really see Okla- I tell them they haven't seen Okla-
6 Oklahoma TODAY
Saved bv a Hatband

d
A father's cool head proves a potent antidote.
' n my sixth summer, I learned that my leg began to sting. My vision, not doin' any good," someone coun-
life is bittersweet. The bitter fol- however, stayed keyed to the ground, tered gravely.
lowing the sweet sometimes as the world outside the corner of my eyes With that, my aunt ran to the
quickly as a change in the Okla- going by quickly, blurring together. chickenhouse and returned with two
homa weather. Sometimes, both to be Some steps later, my silence had be- hens. She shoved one leghorn into the
found in the same experience. come murmurs of complaint. Assuming arms of a cousin and flopped the other
The year was 1907, the same year the pace was to blame, Mama, now squawking bird onto the wooden sink.
Oklahoma ceased to be called Indian panting herself, said nothing. With a butcher knife and one motion
Territory and became the 46th state. When my murmurs escalated to she sliced the fowl open from craw to
Word came to my family that one of my whimpers and then tears, Mama, who tail and wrapped the animal around my
cousins had died in the night. Mama knew I cried only for a reason, stopped. leg. I began to scream. When the in-
and. Papa dressed my four-year-old She handed off the baby to Papa and nards of the pullet turned green, my
sister Zora, my baby brother Willie, and swooped me up into her arms. Stand- aunt applied the other chicken. It too
me in our Sunday-go-to-meeting ing, waiting for a flash of lightning to turned green. "There's still a lot of
clothes, and we headed out on foot as break the darkness, she stared at my poison in there," someone said.
the crow flies, across the fields of cot- extended leg. My uncle responded by taking down
ton, corn, and sorghum. Time usually The bolt of light was not long in a can of kerosene; pain shot through my
passed quickly when we walked with coming, and the deafening clap of body as my leg was lowered inside.
Mama and Papa, but that day was dif- thunder that followed it all but After long minutes, I felt myself being
ferent. The sky seemed to hang like drowned out Mama's high-pitched raised up, away from the cluster of faces
soiled grey laundry, fringed with soot. scream at the sight of my puffy ankle that had melted into a blur, away from
Papa and Mama spoke in tones too low pierced by two drops of blood and her the good intentions. I opened my eyes
to be clearly heard. words, "She's been bitten by a snake." to see the pale eyes of my Papa, who
At my uncle's, a kerosene lamp Mama broke for the still distant gently took me into his arms.
vainly tried to brighten a gloomy room. house. Papa struggled behind, slowed Sitting down in a chair, his hands
Little Hershel had been weak from by the burden of two children but pressed my cheek into the linsey-
birth, but his death had shaken the close enough to hear her sob, "My little woolsey of his Sunday vest. He reached
family with its abruptness. Come sun- girl's going to die." for his hat on the floor, freed the raw-
down, Grandma Bethel decided the With our arrival, pandemonium hit hide band that encircled its crown, and
restless children should go to her place the farmhouse. A horse was running carefully tied it just below my knee.
and eat supper. It had been a long day. before my uncle had his right foot in The wind howled, the shutters
As we left on foot, the storm that had the stirrup-racing for the doctor in banged, and the rain battered the earth.
been hanging overhead all day lost its Bristow, in a storm so fierce it would I lay in my Papa's embrace, until the
reserve. Papa handed the baby to uproot grown trees. I was placed on the horse and buggy brought the doctor to
Mama and picked up my sister. Resting kitchen table. Faces in a circle peered the house about two that morning.
Willie on her hip, Mama took my hand. down at me. Mom knelt nearby, pray- "There's nothing I can do," he said.
Heavy drops of rain hit the earth stir- ing. "With this storm, it'll take too long Later that day, Grandpa went to the
ring up dust on the path. Staring down, for the Doc to get here," my aunt said. field where I first felt the pain and
I watched dust become caked mud "We gotta do somethin' quick," an- found what he expected to find: a
between my toes. It felt like pebbles,] other said. Someone remembered rattlesnake. Delirious with fever for
mused, until the pressure of Mama's milk had "drawing powers," and so many days, I do not know the fate of my
hand urged me to come on. they submerged my foot halfway to the attacker. But I do know his victim was
Tlie wagon road we followed was knee in a pail of fresh sweet milk. "It saved by a wise, caring father and a
through a sea of grass. Halfway along it, feels good," I heard my voice say. "It's hatband. -01a Belle Williams
September-October 1991 7

u
By Ralph Marsh
T
he man, the of newly sprouted wheat to get into the pond where it belonged. All eyes, like
the rain, went eventually to the pond. None knew what he was about. All were
boy, and the
eager.
When the sun came, they gathered their gear and left the car, the pup riding
new beagle
warm in a pocket. All shivered from more than the chill of the dawn.
pup sat in the There were worms for the boy and a simple spinning rig. The obligatory fly
rod, nine feet long, for the man. The pocket for the pup. They approached
car until the
the pond in slight awe of all they didn't know.
The boy settled first, the cork making a satisfying plop in the mirrored sur-
post-dawn rain stopped,
face as it settled into just the position it was supposed to be in. The man
sipping black coffee and watched the boy's eyes move without changing, from the cork to him and to
the pup, and he wondered that he had not seen it in the boy's eyes before.
sweetened chocolate
Not even in those magical moments before a baseball game.
"Look, son," he said, "there where the muddy water hits the clear. Like a
and wondering at how
...
fan. Spreading out. I'll bet
different the world "Can I borrow a night crawler?"
The boy put down his rod and scrambled for the can.
looked from where they
Sound ceased.
The night crawler, hooked through the head, looped in long, lazy motion
were.
up into the rain-scrubbed sky and landed with a plop similar to that of the
One was thirty-six, one cork, ruffling the surface of the mirror right where the muddy water met the
clear. The line tightened leisurely. The universe stilled.
was five, and one was six
It happened quickly, like summer lightning. The tip of the fly rod jabbed
crazily at the surface of the pond. The reel tore the man's thumb. Somebody
weeks. All saw the world
screamed. The world went crazy.
anew because of what A miracle-clean, white-silver, majestic-shattered the mirror into a
thousand pieces as it leapt for the blue sky, scattering diamond shards from
was between them. All
its sides. The man slipped, tried to get the tip of the rod up, and slid in the
mud toward the pond.
sat just so in the edge of
The boy threw down his rod. Ran to his father. Wrapped both arms around
the woods at dawn in the him as high around his chest as he could reach, holding his father from the
water's reach, protecting him from whatever it was that suddenly had burst
early spring watching
The speed limit ot~G reenleaf Luke at Greenleaf Stnte Prrrk, southecrst of Bras, is a peurejil
rain nudge between rows
25m.p.h. Contemplativefishennevzc ome seeking black bass, sand bass, and crappie.
September-October 1991 9
Three Good-01-Boys,
through the water to threaten him. The man was yelling,
1
trying to crank the reel, strip in the line, keep it tight. The
A Boat, A Line, And A snake boy locked onto him, and the pup fled into the nearby
stand of new wheat.
Together, they fell into the mud. The boy saving the
(
ramped out near a ~eacefurli ver, spending some well-deserved hours man. The man &ing desperately to pull the tip of the
L ' pole out of the water and behind him. Somehow, and it
doing what they loved best, three good-01-boys decided

was done according to no book on fishing that has ever
one night to go frog-gigging, a feast of fried frog legs, their goal.

I
been written, a trophy bass slid regally from the pond and
. .
onto the shore. Surely one of the biggest and most beau-
Equipped with a strong flashlight and long-handled. three-pronged gigs,

tiful creatures God ever created, clean silver against the
I

they loaded their boat. The river was fairly clear. A little
mud.
I

moonlight randomly danced on the water. Gliding along, listening to

I

They say it comes free at least

peaceful nighttime sounds, they contemplated how great it was to be

I

fishermen. They gigged a few frogs and missed a few.
once to every man, woman, and

child who takes the time and

As they paddled the boat under a tree that leaned out over the river, one

expends the effort. And it comes in

fisherman noticed a snake resting on a limb overhead.

as many different forms as there are

He wouldn't have been a good-01-boy if the thought of lightly goosing the

people who pursue it.

snake with his gig hadn't at least occurred to him. In this instance,

however, the thought quickly became an urge too great to ignore. The gig

The two of them sat nearby in shock, looking at this
went up. The snake scrambled to escape. But the gig found its mark, and the
beautiful thing the fly rod had produced. And the boy
snake fell, to the good-01-boy's amazement, into the middle of the boat.
yelled and the man began to laugh, and the boy returned
his laugh and they scooted to each other and they hugged
Three panic-filled fishermen yelled, cursed, and struggled
there in the mud of the pond bank. And one of them be-
in three different directions. The panic-stricken snake zigzagged across
gan to cry in a way that did not show and he held the boy
very tightly even after the pup had burst back out of the
the bottom of the boat. Who can say which possessed the most fear:

new wheat and tried to lick from their faces whatever it
the fishermen or the snake.

was that was between them.
And through lives that changed and separated and went
At the height of the frenzy, one good-01-boy had the bright idea to use his

I
their own wav,s .. that moment never leftthe two of them.
pistol on the nasty snake. POW,h e missed. POW, missed again. The snake
It was there to remember when times turned hard. This
was close enough, but, unfortunately, a moving target. Pow, again.
moment, if nothing more.
And that, my friend, is fishing. And it happens. It hap-
"Can't you hold that light still!" he growled at the other two.
pens in many different ways for many different people,
but it happens best when one puts oneself in a position
It was getting crowded in the boat. One scared snake and three terrified

for some good thing to happen, and waits.
fishermen had been joined by three bullet holes. Water began to rush in.

One good-01-boy yelled, "Plug up those holes with your fingers or we're
klahomans over sixteen years of age have been
going to sink." "Do it yourself!" another shot back.
known to spend more than $461 million each
year fishing. That kind of money is spent be-
One good-01-boy realized the shore was some four feet away,
cause when boys and girls grow up, they re-
so he bailed out, half swimming, half jumping to shore.
member magical moments spent fishing and grow eager
for them to come again. And so they buy more lures and
The other two followed close behind.

better rods and bigger boats and fill their hats with hand-
tied flies. And they get longer trout lines and bigger hooks
The three good-01-boys pulled the boat partly ashore and turned it over.

and go to bigger ponds and longer rivers. And stay in nicer
The snake escaped into the water but so did their string of frogs. Pointing

motels. And celebrate at night.
fingers of guilt, each was prepared to assign blame to the other. But,
In Oklahoma, they go to Eufaula for crappie and to
somehow, as if on cue, all three good-01-boys burst out laughing instead.
Texoma for forty-pound-plus striper and Blue Cat that
reach eighty pounds. In southeastern Oklahoma, they
-Joe Walker travel to the Poteau River for the tasty flatheads that can
10 Oklahoma 'I'ODAY