You cannot live in the Osage without a story about living in the camps and Russell Whiles of Ponca had a few memories to share and I bet everyone can relate. Thanks Russell.
I would have graduated with the class of 1966, had I stayed in school over there. As it turned out, however, my folks purchased a small restaurant over in Ponca City, and our family left its Phillips roots and moved to Ponca, where I did my Junior and Senior years. Having arrived in the oil field when I was maybe two years old, the first house was west of Shidler, in the small community of Denoya. My main memory from there was when my mom went into an absolute tizzie over finding a rather large and scary scorpion in the bath tub. Shortly thereafter, we moved into a house in one of the many oil field "camps".
Each camp had either a name, or a number, or both. Ours was #32, or Vinnedge...Or Vintage...I don't recall ever seeing it spelled out anywhere. There were other names like Bell and Big Bertha. #32 was laid out at the four-way stop one mile west of Webb City, running north, along the west side of the road. We lived at the north end, last house, and the magnificent maple tree with the best tree house in the country was in our front yard. A few years ago, that tree was still standing, although in some disarray. And, on all the ground between that tree and Stink Creek, to the north, grew one of the most prolific veggie gardens I have ever seen! I can still taste the sweet peas, fresh off the vines!
Oil field camps were long rows of houses where many of the Phillips employees lived, and each camp was unique, forming a small neighborhood, where everybody knew all the neighbors, and who was grouchy, and who lived with whatever ailments, and where a kid could get cookies once in a while. We grew extremely adept at walking atop the pipe fences, all the way from one end to the other, and back. Of course, that involved a learning curve, as we acquired our balance, and slips and falls were part of it, most memorably when we came down hard astraddle of the pipe!
The camps had some of the most prolific catalpa trees anywhere...prolific in the number of long "beans" they produced. Collecting those beans and whipping them through the air at your adversary in the next tree...those were the Bean Wars that occupied many Summer hours.
Sleeping under the stars, we learned many of the constellations, and even spotted the Sputnik, on numerous starry nights. Abundant mischief needed done, on those long hot nights, and sleep came much later.
As we got older, we were allowed to venture away from the camp, and scouting the countryside, we created the endless adventure that was kid-life in the oil patch. Out in the fields were even bigger pipes to walk on, maybe 8 or ten inch pipelines, some built above the ground and resting on braces, much like the Alaska Pipeline. And, where those pipes crossed a gully or ravine had a special draw for us. Those were places where our balancing abilities would either save our lives and limbs, or not. I can recall making it out over the deepest part of the ravine, and sitting down on the pipe, to ponder the rest of the day. We might have our BB guns with us, and those perches provided excellent sniper positions.
In the Winter, we explored just as hard as we did in Summer. A very hard freeze would make it possible for our light bodies to walk out on the pond ice. Couldn't attempt it with today's heavier bodies, and surely should not have done it then. The ice test was simply to walk gingerly, and listen to the cracking sounds, and go where the sounds seemed more diminished. And the adventure was even more fun when used our BB guns to bounce BB's off the ice and hit each other in the legs!
Neighborhood gatherings were always fun, and one of the frequent occasions were the thunderstorms. Especially the violent ones. For every few houses in the camp, there was a huge storm shelter...#32 had four or five of them, and some were fit for humans to be in...the others held water at various depths. The cellars with water worked fine as fish bait storage facilities, or live wells, to keep a stringer of fish in until they got cleaned. One even had loose fish swimming around that we could fish for. The dry shelters had wooden benches along each side, and candles, maybe a chair or two, and a special cool, damp, underground smell spiced with candle smoke. The smell was a good enough reason to go down there! The ladies and kids would stay in the shelter as the storm raged, sometimes for quite a while into the evening, and moms had brought blankets to bed us down on the benches, as they talked mom-talk and played cards. The men stood outside as long as they could, watching the skies, talking man-talk.
Playing cards was huge among the adults. Games would go late into the evening, at one house or another, and whenever bath time came along for the kids, we all got dumped into the same tub of water, frequently together, no matter if we were little boys or little girls. Then came time to go to sleep, and kids were everywhere, on furniture and on floors, and the low murmur of voices at the card table droned on and ran together, and good sleep came!
tid-bit was how to build a skateboard. It was a bit traumatic, to dismantle our beloved old steel roller skates, but the excitement was there...we had to do it, in order that we have two halves. Nail the front half near the front of a wooden board, and the rear half near the back, and voila! They worked famously, and some of us developed a real knack for skateboarding...without protective gear. Back at the 4-way intersection, we would head south, down the east side of the road, where there was an old concrete slab and other structures, from an old gasoline plant, or something. A lot of clean-up effort later, we actually had a pretty fun and challenging skateboard facility, and spent hours learning the moves.
Bikes became very significant in later years. The big flat-top hill west of #32 we called Bowman's Hill. One Summer, we learned that any number of reptiles lived on Bowman's Hill, and some of us collected an impressive variety, put them all together in a barrel, and showed our moms...snakes, horny toads, lizards, turtles...My memory is foggy, right after that...I don't think our moms were impressed! Bikes allowed us to go on those long excursions, and riding down the paved road a mile south, to Henry Hammer's little store, was a special treat. Those trips were usually justified if we had a few glass soda-pop bottles to return, for two cents each. And a trip to Hammer's was a whole lot smoother than a wild run at full throttle down the bare-naked side of Bowman's Hill, not on the road!
Some of the kids in #32 included Jerry Hill, Craig and Bill Lotz, Jimmy Gorley, Andy Clark, Mike and Janie McKee, Bonnie Gatewood, Kenny Bright, my own sister Sharon...many more golden memories to be told, for sure!
What did we learn from the Osage:
gary@thepioneerman.com
Comments from readers:
I would have graduated with the class of 1966, had I stayed in school over there. As it turned out, however, my folks purchased a small restaurant over in Ponca City, and our family left its Phillips roots and moved to Ponca, where I did my Junior and Senior years. Having arrived in the oil field when I was maybe two years old, the first house was west of Shidler, in the small community of Denoya. My main memory from there was when my mom went into an absolute tizzie over finding a rather large and scary scorpion in the bath tub. Shortly thereafter, we moved into a house in one of the many oil field "camps".
Each camp had either a name, or a number, or both. Ours was #32, or Vinnedge...Or Vintage...I don't recall ever seeing it spelled out anywhere. There were other names like Bell and Big Bertha. #32 was laid out at the four-way stop one mile west of Webb City, running north, along the west side of the road. We lived at the north end, last house, and the magnificent maple tree with the best tree house in the country was in our front yard. A few years ago, that tree was still standing, although in some disarray. And, on all the ground between that tree and Stink Creek, to the north, grew one of the most prolific veggie gardens I have ever seen! I can still taste the sweet peas, fresh off the vines!
Oil field camps were long rows of houses where many of the Phillips employees lived, and each camp was unique, forming a small neighborhood, where everybody knew all the neighbors, and who was grouchy, and who lived with whatever ailments, and where a kid could get cookies once in a while. We grew extremely adept at walking atop the pipe fences, all the way from one end to the other, and back. Of course, that involved a learning curve, as we acquired our balance, and slips and falls were part of it, most memorably when we came down hard astraddle of the pipe!
The camps had some of the most prolific catalpa trees anywhere...prolific in the number of long "beans" they produced. Collecting those beans and whipping them through the air at your adversary in the next tree...those were the Bean Wars that occupied many Summer hours.
Sleeping under the stars, we learned many of the constellations, and even spotted the Sputnik, on numerous starry nights. Abundant mischief needed done, on those long hot nights, and sleep came much later.
As we got older, we were allowed to venture away from the camp, and scouting the countryside, we created the endless adventure that was kid-life in the oil patch. Out in the fields were even bigger pipes to walk on, maybe 8 or ten inch pipelines, some built above the ground and resting on braces, much like the Alaska Pipeline. And, where those pipes crossed a gully or ravine had a special draw for us. Those were places where our balancing abilities would either save our lives and limbs, or not. I can recall making it out over the deepest part of the ravine, and sitting down on the pipe, to ponder the rest of the day. We might have our BB guns with us, and those perches provided excellent sniper positions.
In the Winter, we explored just as hard as we did in Summer. A very hard freeze would make it possible for our light bodies to walk out on the pond ice. Couldn't attempt it with today's heavier bodies, and surely should not have done it then. The ice test was simply to walk gingerly, and listen to the cracking sounds, and go where the sounds seemed more diminished. And the adventure was even more fun when used our BB guns to bounce BB's off the ice and hit each other in the legs!
Neighborhood gatherings were always fun, and one of the frequent occasions were the thunderstorms. Especially the violent ones. For every few houses in the camp, there was a huge storm shelter...#32 had four or five of them, and some were fit for humans to be in...the others held water at various depths. The cellars with water worked fine as fish bait storage facilities, or live wells, to keep a stringer of fish in until they got cleaned. One even had loose fish swimming around that we could fish for. The dry shelters had wooden benches along each side, and candles, maybe a chair or two, and a special cool, damp, underground smell spiced with candle smoke. The smell was a good enough reason to go down there! The ladies and kids would stay in the shelter as the storm raged, sometimes for quite a while into the evening, and moms had brought blankets to bed us down on the benches, as they talked mom-talk and played cards. The men stood outside as long as they could, watching the skies, talking man-talk.
Playing cards was huge among the adults. Games would go late into the evening, at one house or another, and whenever bath time came along for the kids, we all got dumped into the same tub of water, frequently together, no matter if we were little boys or little girls. Then came time to go to sleep, and kids were everywhere, on furniture and on floors, and the low murmur of voices at the card table droned on and ran together, and good sleep came!
tid-bit was how to build a skateboard. It was a bit traumatic, to dismantle our beloved old steel roller skates, but the excitement was there...we had to do it, in order that we have two halves. Nail the front half near the front of a wooden board, and the rear half near the back, and voila! They worked famously, and some of us developed a real knack for skateboarding...without protective gear. Back at the 4-way intersection, we would head south, down the east side of the road, where there was an old concrete slab and other structures, from an old gasoline plant, or something. A lot of clean-up effort later, we actually had a pretty fun and challenging skateboard facility, and spent hours learning the moves.
Bikes became very significant in later years. The big flat-top hill west of #32 we called Bowman's Hill. One Summer, we learned that any number of reptiles lived on Bowman's Hill, and some of us collected an impressive variety, put them all together in a barrel, and showed our moms...snakes, horny toads, lizards, turtles...My memory is foggy, right after that...I don't think our moms were impressed! Bikes allowed us to go on those long excursions, and riding down the paved road a mile south, to Henry Hammer's little store, was a special treat. Those trips were usually justified if we had a few glass soda-pop bottles to return, for two cents each. And a trip to Hammer's was a whole lot smoother than a wild run at full throttle down the bare-naked side of Bowman's Hill, not on the road!
Some of the kids in #32 included Jerry Hill, Craig and Bill Lotz, Jimmy Gorley, Andy Clark, Mike and Janie McKee, Bonnie Gatewood, Kenny Bright, my own sister Sharon...many more golden memories to be told, for sure!
What did we learn from the Osage:
- The best of times are easier to see in the rears
- The best of times are what you make of them and still to come
- Friends are friends forever unless they were not friends to start with
- God blessed us to have Roots in the Osage
gary@thepioneerman.com
Comments from readers:
Jim Davis9:53pm Apr 7th
Re: Good Stuff, Jim!
Russell,
I read your post in Home on the Range again tonight. It brought back a whole bunch of old memories again.
I hope this is not all redundant. I tried to post some of this information on the Home on the Range. I never saw it there so here goes another try.
I lived along the west side of the Denoya road. The Hathcoat home was at the corner of the where the road that lead west to Kaw City. Back a 100 yards or so on the west side of the There was a family that I can no longer remember the name of that lived a little south of them and on the west side of the road. Just a little further south was Taylor’ Store. South of the store a little ways the road split. Straight ahead on Denoya rd., I believe you could drive all the way to Old Highway 66 and go east to Pawhuska or west to Ponca City. If you turned left you went down a long hill to a pecan farm. The owner used to let anyone pick as many pecans as they want as long as you gave them half.
We lived there from 1948 to 1960. Our home was built by my Dad. A 100 yard or so north of the Hathcoats and across the road was Ed Connelly’s home. Someone live across the Denoya from them and someone lived just north of them. We lived maybe 100 yards northwest of the Connelly’s. Just southwest of the Connelly’s a short distance was the Bill & Wilma Eden. They had two kids both younger than me. Billy and a sister I cannot remember. I think they ran the Dixie Dog at one time. Due west of the Connelly’s maybe 200 yards were the Lees.
I had two brothers. My older brother is Don Davis. He graduated in 1960. He now lives in Mountain Home Arkansas. My younger brother is Glenn who was born in 1955. He now lives in Grey Lake Illinois.
I certainly remember a lot of stories I would like to pass along. My wife just got home so I am going to close and continue this later.
Jim Davis
I read your post in Home on the Range again tonight. It brought back a whole bunch of old memories again.
I hope this is not all redundant. I tried to post some of this information on the Home on the Range. I never saw it there so here goes another try.
I lived along the west side of the Denoya road. The Hathcoat home was at the corner of the where the road that lead west to Kaw City. Back a 100 yards or so on the west side of the There was a family that I can no longer remember the name of that lived a little south of them and on the west side of the road. Just a little further south was Taylor’ Store. South of the store a little ways the road split. Straight ahead on Denoya rd., I believe you could drive all the way to Old Highway 66 and go east to Pawhuska or west to Ponca City. If you turned left you went down a long hill to a pecan farm. The owner used to let anyone pick as many pecans as they want as long as you gave them half.
We lived there from 1948 to 1960. Our home was built by my Dad. A 100 yard or so north of the Hathcoats and across the road was Ed Connelly’s home. Someone live across the Denoya from them and someone lived just north of them. We lived maybe 100 yards northwest of the Connelly’s. Just southwest of the Connelly’s a short distance was the Bill & Wilma Eden. They had two kids both younger than me. Billy and a sister I cannot remember. I think they ran the Dixie Dog at one time. Due west of the Connelly’s maybe 200 yards were the Lees.
I had two brothers. My older brother is Don Davis. He graduated in 1960. He now lives in Mountain Home Arkansas. My younger brother is Glenn who was born in 1955. He now lives in Grey Lake Illinois.
I certainly remember a lot of stories I would like to pass along. My wife just got home so I am going to close and continue this later.
Jim Davis
2 comments:
IN THE PHOTO...1963. The scene is me, age 15, being pushed by sister Sharon on a go-kart made from scratch by my dad Charlie Whiles. Notice the lack of a seat belt, no helmet or other protective gear, and that sucker would do 30mph! We are on the gravel drive out back of our house...the northernmost house in Camp #32. Gatewood's house is on the right, and way out in the background one can make out the pipe fence that we learned to balance on.
Rusell, My name is Jim Davis (Jimmy then) We had to know one another. My dad (Gene Davis)was a lead man on the pump crews and organizer for the union. You and I were in the same grade. My Dad was killed in a car wreck crossing the Arkansaw River at Ponca City in the December of 1955. My mom packed us up and we moved to Tucson in 61. I was 12. We lived on Phillips land less than a mile northwest from the general store. Our Neighbors were the Connely's Hathcoats and Lee's. My best two friends were James Hathcoat and Marc Whitt. I remember Camp #32. I remember a freind who lived in the second or third house from the south end. Those were idealic days growing up in Denoya. We played incesently among the old ruins. My Dad used to organize these huge card games with all these families at our house. The grownups would play cards and the kids would play hide and seek. In the summer we would eat watermellon and homemade ice cream. We just had to know each other.
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