Grove - Cashatt Family History

On page 12 is a heading called Reunions. Some might want to go there first, just for fun, since we are all interested in reunions and the old home place! This is only the first part of the book. I didn't include everything that is there. There are things such as recipes and historical information about the times in newspaper articles that were too time consuming to type up. Also the genealogical lists were not retyped. I have already recorded all of that in my family tree report. There are still a few more stories to add from the end of the book. I will do that and post for you to read someday soon. There are 15 pages here. I would like to thank Lucille for her good work in having a major part in preserving our family history as she discovered it from family members. I am thankful that others are continuing the search! I know that she had fun doing her research. I think she is amazing to do what she did without the help of computers and search engines! THANKS LUCILLE!

The 1850 census, dated October 16, found them in the same location. Children now romped through the home. Mary Elizabeth was listed as nine years of age, James Harvey was six and Sarah Americus was four. Owen Franklin was two. His name, however, did not appear on the census record. Twins, Rebecca Jane and John were a few months old, having been born in March of that year. Others listed in the home were Rachel Mullen, age thirty-two and Mary A. Mullen, age twelve. Rachel may have been Mary Ann Grove's sister. It is known she had a sister Rachel who later resided at Polo, Missouri.

Samuel was sure to have piled the necessary tools and farm equipment into a covered wagon while Mary Ann and the children packed the spinning wheel, candle molds and heavy black cooking pots. We can be almost sure there was a supply of dried fruit, corn meal and salt pork for food as well as dried roots and bark for medicinal use. The family has said Mary Ann was very good with herbal medicines.

Could it be there was a cranny left for little Sarah to stow a rag doll? Could little James have carried a toy squirrel gun and whistled his dog to follow?

One can almost hear young bearded Samuel as he strode along beside the oxen shouting "G'long!" when they meandered off the trail to graze. Yoke chains must have clanked and sweat must have glistened on the oxen muzzles like polished leather.

Fortunately, Joe Glidden's thorny barbed wire wouldn't stretch across the land until more than twenty years later.

Historians tell us oxen traveled twelve to fifteen miles a day. Occasionally, travelers found it necessary to replace a broken ox shoe. This was not a simple task, as each shoe had two parts and some oxen could be unruly and difficult at times.

Wooded land with a stream near by was a farmer's delight. Samuel, here in this virgin Missouri land of Daviess county, a few miles north of Caldwell county line, found his dream. Daviess county had been organized in 1836.

In a copy of a documented letter written by Sarah in 1916 when applying for a widow's Civil War pension she states, "My father moved to Missouri when I was about four years old and settled in Harrison Township, Daviess county where I grew up."

The family has stated the "Grove boys" were some of the earliest settlers in the county. The earliest record found of any of them is a land entry of John A. Grove in 1842. He is believed to be a brother of Samuel. Samuel's brother, Abbie, may have settled at that time, also.

After Samuel's move, the woods must have come alive with the ring of his ax, the crash of a tree and the thud of a maul against the wedge, as a log was split.

Flapping crows probably cawed from a new perch, scolding at being displaced.

It was here on the "edge of the west" where wolves still howled and small migrant bands of Indians sometimes passed by, that another baby, Edward Hayes, was born to Samuel and Mary Ann. He too would grow to love these rolling hills and meandering streams where he would plant, hunt, fish and raise a family of his own.

This year, the Grove family would possibly have letters from Ohio. A post office was now established a few miles from their home. It was called "Grandriver," located a mile east of present day Breckenridge.

Less than ten years before, about sixty miles to the west, the city of St. Joseph had been laid out. It was formerly called Blacksnake Hill. Here the emigrants' wagons still crossed the Missouri river by ferry to roll west. According to the "History of Buchanan County," there were 4,193 wagons that crossed between April first and mid June of 1849. At that time, nineteen stores had gone up and more on the way. Flour was selling at $1.75 cwt., sugar six cents, coffee eight cents, wagons $65 to $95, oxen $30 to $40 per yoke and mules $30 to $60 each.

On April 22, 1853, according to a Centennial edition of the Breckenridge Bulletin, a resident of the Breckenridge community counted 22 wagons and five to six hundred cattle passing his door.

Samuel however, had no hankering to follow the gleam of gold to the west. He had found his gold in the green gold of hardwood trees and black gold of rich soil. He had constructed his cabin and nailed his boots to the floor, so to speak.

Corn husking and barn raising were popular, we are told, during those years. Often after a barn raising, a dance was held. As fiddles were tuned and the fiddle bow rubbed with rosin, could there have been a Grove ancestor who tucked a fiddle beneath his chin, grinned at the dancers and swung into a fast foot stomping tune? It seems most likely, as music has been the inherent talent of nearly all the Grove descendants generation after generation.

Peddlers came through the country during the 1850's selling tinware, trinkets, decorative combs, mirrors and suspenders. Others sold essences and spices, sometimes trading merchandise for a night's lodging and meal.

January 9, 1855, as sharp winds were surely blowing against the sturdy cabin, Samuel may have tossed another log into the fireplace. As it sparked and crackled, pushing a warm glow into the corners of the room, a new baby's cry was heard. This night Rachel Melvina was born.

The following year, a few miles south of the Grove home, the town of Breckenridge was laid out.

About the time little David could toddle from the chair to brother Hayes, something "big" happened in Breckenridge. Town people gathered while farmers from miles around drove rigs to town, as the clickity clack of wheels brought the first train through town! Farmers must have grinned and bit off hefty chaws of tobacco, while business men beamed and slapped their friends on the back.

Yup, this was 1859. The railroad had come a long way across country since 1830 when there were only 13 miles of track laid.

These 1850's brought growing differences concerning slavery. Southerners had moved into Missouri where slavery was permitted, bringing their slaves with them. Others from the north saw the abuse and sale of people as something they could not tolerate.

According to "A Tour Guide of the Civil War" by Alice Hamilton Cromie, there were about 24,000 planters and farmers who owned 115,000 slave in the state of Missouri.

Years later, a slave block still stood at Kingston, Missouri where slaves had been sold to the highest bidder.

Samuel owned no slaves, however, it has been said he was in sympathy with the southerners. How this affected his relationship with a Union veteran son-in-law some years later, we will likely never know!

In 1861, Mary Ann's last baby, Minnie Victoria, was born.

The pro and con of slavery had, by now, made the state of Missouri a tinderbox. One of the first skirmishes of the war took place at Camp Jackson in May of 1861.

The town of Carthage was burned by Federal troops where shortly before, the Shirley family had owned a hotel and home. Their daughter, who then was about 12 years of age, grew up to become the infamous Bella Starr. Some called her the Bandit Queen. Others had more unsavory names for her.

Hot coals of bitterness were fanned by bushwhacking and burnings. Atrocities against their families may have spawned Missouri outlaws, such as the neighboring James boys, the Youngers, and Bella Starr. Historians tell us that Jesse James, at the age of 16, was taken from his plowing and brutally rope whipped while his step father was hanged til nearly dead.

According to Alice Cromie's book, there were 1,160 battles or skirmishes fought in the state. This was the warp and woof of Missouri when the Samuel Grove children were growing up.

Times were very hard those years of the 1860's. Some of the farmers grew hemp for a cash crop. The year of 1860 saw the largest crop of hemp ever produced in the state. Records show there were 19,267 tons of it grown. The average price was $100 per ton. Hemp was pressed into bales and sold to rope factories.

During the Civil War at Lexington, the Confederate soldiers found bales of hemp along the Missouri River. They soaked the bales in the river, rolled them up the bluffs and down the other side toward the Union troops. The bales turned the bullets and allowed the Confederates to over run the Union lines.

It would seem reasonable to say Mary Ann and her daughters bent their backs at homemaking those days. Wool was cleaned, carded and spun into thread. To spin enough thread for a wool skirt, it is said a person would have to work constantly from breakfast until bedtime for four days. Some of the yarn was dyed with tree barks. To make a color between rust and brown, the bark of maple mixed with copperas was boiled. The thread or material was added and then taken out when the desired color was obtained. It was then washed and rinsed. Black walnut hulls made a beautiful soft brown dye, sometimes used for men's suits. Along with daily household chores, the Grove girls would be preparing hope chests for that day that they would surely wed. By the wedding day, each girl would have dainty handmade linens and quilts, as well as a featherbed and goose down pillows to furnish a home.

Those days, cooking was no easy task. Corn meal hoe cakes were baked before the fireplace. Meals were prepared in heavy cooking pots which hung from cranes. These cranes could be moved to the side or swung directly over the fire. When cookstoves were acquired in later years, we can understand why these pioneer women prized them more highly than gold! When we think of the years of hard work that Mary Ann put into caring for her family, it is ironic to note that when she passed away, her death certificate read: occupation . . . none. If Mary Ann could speak for herself, she might have a word or two to say about that!

By the 1860's, many medicines were available from druggists. Mexican Mustang Lineament had been on the market for several years. Its claim was "a balm for every wound, a cure for every ill." Humphrey's Homeopathic Specifics was used for ailments of man or beast. Also on the market before this time was Hostetter's Stomach Bitters. One patient who used it claimed "it worked like a charm." No small wonder, the potion contained slightly more than 43% alcohol. These claims would soon be tame compared to the medicine man who would sweep into town with his authentic Indian Cures that were guaranteed to cure everything from snake bites to sneezes.

After four terrible years, the Civil War was over. Slaves were free. Generals saluted each other and boys went home. Bitterness, however, did not end for some. Some of those from nearby counties who couldn't settle down were Jesse James, eighteen years of age now, and his brother, Frank. Less than a year after the war ended, they helped a group of 10 or 12 men rob the Liberty Bank. This is believed to be the first daylight bank robbery in America.

Late 1860's found some of the Grove family had flown the nest. Mary Elizabeth, called Mollie, married John Jackson. James Harvey married Susan. Blue-eyed Sarah married Clark Cashatt, the Union veteran from Ohio. She went back to Ohio with him. Rebecca Jane married Ashpal Palmer.

By now, the war-torn cities were partly mended and Missourians were settling down to living peacefully. At least some of them were. There were some who carried grudges against banks and railroads. About an hour's mule ride from Breckenridge on December 7, 1869, the Gallatin Bank was robbed. A horse left behind was identified as belonging to one of the James boys though they claimed to have sold the horse sometime before.

James Harvey farmed nearby. He and his wife were both 26 years of age. Their son, John, was one year of age.

Population was rapidly increasing in the northern counties of Missouri.

The 1870's saw more peddlers dusting down the roads. They drove wagons now and offered more varied stock such as carpet slippers, snuff boxes, razors and knives.

It must have been a happy homecoming for this close knit family. Instead of killing the old red rooster, it is more likely that they cooked a big ham and steamed up a batch of pudding and sauce. According to a warranty deed of March 6, 1878, Clark purchased 80 acres of land from John A. Grove.

On September 10, 1878, a son named John was born to Clark and Sarah. John, in later years, told his daughter Florence that he was born in a rented house about a mile north of the home that was being built. So it seems that the original Cashatt home was built about 1878 or 79.

Some of the principal crops in Missouri in 1879 were buckwheat, potatoes, corn, rye and tobacco.

Missouri also raised a healthy crop of mules, 191,000 of them. This was more than any other state. Mules were to play an important part in the history of the state.

The old Hale school, a few miles north of the Cashatt home, was first a log building according to "History of Daviess County Schools 1833-1976." A new school was built in 1881. Clark and Sarah's children, as the generation before them, attended Hale school.

On February 2, 1882, another son was born to Clark and Sarah. This was William Louis, later known as "Bid." Three years later when February snow again crunched underfoot, Willard was born. This last son was later known as "Dude."

Clark and Sarah put down deep roots there on their farm in Daviess county. Like many pioneers, planting and harvesting was done by the moon. Potatoes, they said, had a higher yield and less vine when planted in the dark of the moon. Pickles kept better when made in the dark of the moon. Fruit was picked in the old of the moon, which is when the moon is shrinking, as bruised spots were less likely to rot. Crops and gardens were good, though some will doubt that planting in the moon should be given all the credit.

Clark and Sarah prospered and raised their eight children. Then young fellows came courting their daughters.

Emma married big tall Will Alexander. Mollie married Will Fitzpatrick. He was known as Bill to friends. Anna married Cash Adams who came from Pike county with his parents in his early teens. Daniel, the oldest son of Clark and Sarah, married Norrie Lipps. She died sometime later leaving a little daughter, Alice. A few years later, John chose Etta Newell to be his wife. She came to be known as one of the best cooks in the family.

Maud Alice remembers that her grandmother Grove would take her to the woods to help gather roots and tree bark to use as medicine. She remembered peacocks were kept on the Cashatt farm and would raise a terrible clamor. They were louder than watch dogs when anyone came near the place. Buyers were sent out from the city to purchase the bright peacock feathers for the millinery shops. Feathers were very much in vogue for ladies hats. These buyers came to Breckinridge by train. They rented rigs at the livery stable to drive through the country to the farm. Geese were also kept on the farm. While some were cooked for holiday dinners, most were kept for the down which was picked from their breasts. We are told geese molt every four to six weeks and about half an ounce of down can be picked from each bird. It took ten large geese to produce enough feathers for one pillow.

Those early years brought much sorrow to the Cashatt and Alexander families. In 1897, Will and Emma Alexanders' seven-year-old son died. Two years later, baby Paul was born but he only lived two weeks. In 1902, the young mother Emma died. She was followed two months later by eighteen months old Edith.

It was sometime during the early 1900's that the old Clark Cashatt home caught fire and burned down. Their grandson, Frank Adams, recalled how the family put up a huge tent in the backyard, living there until a new house was built on the same location. He also remembered how "grand dad" Clark enjoyed his rocking chair on the front porch.

Just before the pumpkins were ripe in the field in 1907, "grandad Clark" was gone.

A few years earlier, Bid Cashatt had married a lovely, dark-eyed girl by the name of Etta Atkinson.

A young fellow, Robert Diment, had moved down from Nebraska with his family. His father, William, had purchased the old Ann Brown place across the field from the Cashatt home. It was petite, wavy haired Maud that Robert soon had his eye on. He came courting, no doubt with his fiddle under his arm, and soon they were married.

A song that was quite popular then was "On the Banks of the Wabash." Another favorite of Robert's was "The Irish Washer Woman." Later years when Robert practiced on the fiddle, way into the midnight hour and past, while Maud tried to sleep, we suspected she was tempted to toss the Irish Washer Woman right over the Banks of the Wabash!

Dude Cashatt swung the girls lively, but it was Martha, called Mattie, Anderson that he danced down to the parson to say "I do."

Many tales were told by the farmers of their encounters with a "Jittney" on a narrow county road. Some teams upon meeting one of these early machines would roll their eyes, snort and lunge backward to almost sit in the wagon. Others took off across country spilling cases of eggs, cans of cream and the farmer's wife, while wiping out a good rig between the thick brush and trees.

Young fellows accustomed to riding saddle horses all their lives had their car problems too. One incident is told of a young man turning in at the gate with his new car. He became flustered about stopping the car and began yelling "Whoa, whoa, whoa." By the time the last "whoa" was finished, so was the gate.

Dude Cashatt, during the war years, was herding and breaking horses for Guyton and Harrington in Clinton county, near Lathrop. These men were the biggest horse and mule buyers in the world. They dealt mostly in mules. Any day between 1914 and 1918, it was estimated that there were 30,000 mules and horses there on 4,700 acres.

The big "sugar" mules were sold to the Southern plantations, the medium mules sold to cotton plantations and the small pack mules to mines or mountain areas. A load of the finest sugar mules was being sent to London, so the British could see what fine mules' Missouri could offer. A German U-boat sank the load of 600 mules.

By 1914, the British came to Lathrop wanting all the mules and horses possible. One requirement was that a Cavalry horse had to be ridden bareback for 200 feet up to the British inspection station before it was examined. It took a good rider to stay on some of these spirited horses . . . so there was Dude!

There was Dude most of the time that is. A stampede started one day and all that stood between him and that mass of horses pounding toward him was a snubbing post. He scrambled to it and hugged it for his very life.

One fond memory is of my mother's cousin, Charlie Grove, who sang and played guitar. There was no escape for him when we began to nag, rag and beg for our favorite song, "The Preacher and the Bear." Finally he would sing that poor preacher right up a tree with that ugly bear right at his heels. Then Charlie would look up at the ceiling, roll his eyes and wail . . . "Oh Lord, if you can't help me, don't you help that grizz-e-ly bear."

Shaking shivers! At that moment in my mind, I could NOT see the preacher, but Charlie up that tree, hanging by suspenders, while that mean old bear circled the tree, clawing bark and spitting splinters. I am glad that we didn't have TV. We had Charlie, his brother Jim and their father, Hayes. Then there was Uncle Bid with his humorous tales. There were other relatives too that had a storehouse of riddles that kept us guessing for hours.

I say "Bless those ancestors. We loved them!"

Some of the family has said Jim was an excellent gunsmith. His other talents included music. Jim's sisters, Sarah Elizabeth and Ida were musicians and so were two of his children, Grace and Elmer.

He could also cure ailing old cars. The ones that had, from all indication, flapped their fenders for the last time. Lindberg, climbing into the Spirit of St. Louis, couldn't have been more admired by the boys. After fixing that old car with wire and wit, he would fold his lanky frame behind the wheel, push his hat to the back of his head and pull down the gas. Then with a far away look in his blue eyes, he would send that car cackling down the road.

The boys probably never knew if it was Bid's ingenuity that made that car run or the x-rated epitaph he threatened to write for it if it didn't run.

The Bid Cashatt family made their home around Breckenridge and Chillicothe, Missouri. Bid liked to fish, farmed some, but leaned more toward business and mechanics.

He and his brother-in-law, Bob Diment, were in the restaurant business in Breckenridge for a time during the early 1920's. This restaurant was a long, very narrow room. So, being in the hub of the farming community, it was only natural that it would acquire the name "The Hog Chute." It was here Bid and Bob served up thick hot chilli, strong black coffee and blue cigar smoke.

Dan, his sister has said, was an excellent horseman in his younger days. She also stated that he was the best croquet player in the family. He always seemed cheerful and fun loving.

In his later years, he moved from the farm into Breckenridge where he served as town night watchman.

In the 1950's, John went to southern California, near San Diego, where he was employed on a ranch to care for horses. His brother Dude, and sister Maud, lived in the area at this time also and some of their family lived nearby.

It was during this time in 1952 that Uncle John came to visit a couple of days with his niece Lucille and her family. Being a jolly teasing fellow, the family always looked forward to his visit. A bed was made up for him along side nine years old Ronnies' bed.

A few days later, Rons' brother Al, received a letter at Boy Scout camp telling of Uncle John's visit. There the print jumped to three inch words and stated "BOY CAN UNCLE JOHN SNORE!".

John's last days were spent back in Missouri with his daughter, Florence and her husband Reuben, on the old Cashatt farm where he grew up and which he now owned.

In the early 1940's, they moved to southern California where they were employed by Convair during WW ll. They purchased a home in El Cajon where they lived several years. In their later years they made their home in Lakeside, California.

There in her calico sun bonnet, long dress and apron, grandma Sallie tended her garden as she had for more than forty years. Clumps of sage, horse radish and asparagus grew in the yard with bright morning glory's and pink roses twining along the garden fence.

Jane's bachelor son, Frank, lived with her and also a grand daughter, Ivy Graham. Two other sons named Elmer and Jim, lived with their families on farms in the community.

It happened on day as she walked through the barn while a chicken was perched on the rafter above. Its aim was good. It seemed it had saved up for days for grandma. She lit out of that barn as fast as her long dress would allow. Grand kids followed open mouthed at this indignity (and worse) that had been heaped on the back of grandmas' head and down her back.

Her steam rose as she washed and scrubbed. Finally she paused, washcloth in hand and with a long hard look back toward the barn she said, "That dirty sow! That dirty old sow!".

It was then we knew that grandma wasn't ruined for good. It was giggling time.

His greeting never varied. "Howdy . . . , howdy, howdy, howdy, howdy" he would say as he came in. Then holding the lantern head level, he'd squeak down the lever that raised the globe and give out a couple of puffs and out would go the light, leaving the acrid smell of smoke and kerosene.

Uncle Hayes was good company. Sometimes he came to play rook, and other times he brought his fiddle. Could uncle Hayes fiddle? Could a cat fish swim? One of his favorite tunes was"Over the Waves." He'd give it the works, then chuckle and say "Sez he, that's good. Sez I, you can hear the waves a splashin." Each of Hayes' children inherited his love for music.

If a car topped the hill from the south and its horn sounded a loud "ar-rr-u-uu-ga" as caps, arms and legs began waving from all sides, it could be no other than the Dude Cashatt family arriving from Lathrop.

Families carried heaping baskets of food to the house. There was no such thing as a covered dish. Soon the babel of voices blended with the kitchen sounds and was punctuated by the hearty laugh of Anna or John.

Down by the barn could be heard the clink of metal against metal as a competitive game of horse shoes got underway. The aim, pitch and clink drew a crowd of spectators. Could anyone beat those Fitzpatrick boys? That was very unlikely.

Down in the pasture to the south, some of the boys scouted for hornet nests like their great-grandfather Grove must have scouted for bee trees. Up the lane they'd come. Carl, Wesley, Ed and others . . . yelling, laughing, beating the air with their caps as they tried to out run those mad hornets. This could stop a horse shoe game cold while the men laughed and yelled encouragement. Everyone that is, except the fathers!

Glen Diment was about three years of age at the time of one of these reunions. His prize possession was a little pearl handled knife which he carried in his overall pocket, taking it out often to admire it. Someone told him if he planted that knife it might grow a whole stalk of knives. He tells about it years later: "I planted that knife and watched for a stalk to grow. It didn't come up, not a sprout, so I started digging it up. I dug and dug. I must have dug up half of grandma's garden. Every time I thought about it, I'd go dig some more. I never did find that knife!"

Bids' sons Clyde, Earl and Rollie inherited much of their father's ingenuity and mechanical know how. It was during one of the family reunions that a crew of little cousins managed to rig up the old running gears of a buggy with ropes tied to the front to guide it. After smuggling the rig out to the usually vacant road, who better to steer it than little Rollie, who had probably cut his teeth on an old Nash steering wheel. Besides, he was the bravest of the bunch. The rest of the kids sat on the back. The wheels were beginning to turn at a good speed when at the top of the hill to the south appeared a model T. It was then that our still cool and confident driver decided to ask advice of his brother Earl. " Earl," he asked, "what will it be, the car or the ditch?" "The ditch! The ditch! You fool, the ditch!" he answered. The ditch it was, with the tangle of rope, clatter of wheels and kids flying off their perch like cornshucks in a wind.

Needless to say, that road trip was permanently terminated. Apparently the driver of the model T didn't squeal to our parents or the results would have been far more dangerous than being run over by a car. Now, years later, it is a very sure bet some of those cousins would still trust "Roll" in the drivers' seat. He was oh, so cool!

Over the years, family reunions were held at the Fitzpatick home, the John Cashatt home and Breckenridge as well as at parks.

The 1930's also brought the depression.

Town people wore out the soles of their shows looking for jobs. Country folk had shoe problems too. Some had to fasten the soles on with anything available. Hog rings came in handy for this.

Descendants of the old pioneers were about to discover their most valuable inheritance. GRIT, GUTS AND GRIN.

Dust swirls played up and down the road while empty rumbling clouds reared from the west and rolled out of sight. The droughts had packed her suitcase and come to stay for the summer.

Swarms of grasshoppers rustled through the parched corn fields. When they moved on, they would leave behind a bare field of broomsticks. They devoured most any plant growing, leaving sorghum cane and hedge rows as a last choice.

Stinking little chinch bugs gave the grain farmers problems too.

Old timers have said that 1935 had the most extreme weather of any year they had experienced. Many farmers' spring-plantings were washed out by overflowing creeks and rivers. They were replanted only to be washed out by another flood and another flood after that.

The summer temperatures that year reached 117 in the shade, while dust and chaff settled on the sweating crew in the wheat fields. If you could ask those threshers this question, "How hot was it in the middle of the field?", they could probably tell you, but it would have to be censored.

About every seven years, during the summer heat, came the big brownish locusts. They fed on crops and filled the air with their incessant "sizz, sizz, sizz."

These were the years of WPA and CCC which meant jobs for a few. For most however, the depression meant taking hold of adversity, like a farm dog to a hog's ear and hanging on.

Fortunately, most folk's real values weren't material.

Most families owned a radio, which was good entertainment as long as batteries and tubes held out. It was a common thing for neighbors to walk a couple miles to another neighbors house to listen to radio shows like the Grand ol' Opry, Lum and Abner or Amos and Andy.

Shirley Temple movies were popular now and romantic songs such as "Moonlight and Roses," "Isle of Capri" and "When I Grow Too Old to Dream" floated out of radios.

People were driven from Arkansas by the drought. The dust bowl pushed people from Oklahoma. The book "Grapes of Wrath" was more than fiction!

Friends and neighbors in Missouri learned to pool their resources. The going wage rate was a dollar a day, if you were fortunate enough to find someone to pay it. It was during this time that Wess and Dorothy Diment pooled their resources with another young married couple and went to Washington state to pick apples. They prayed their money would hold out til "apple pickin" pay day! One of them told of the day their coffee ran out. "Poured the last cup and a bug landed in ol' Floyd's coffee. He was going to pick it out and drink it anyway, but his wife put up a howl."

For most folk, prosperity was a long road ahead. "Survival" was in the driver's seat while "Pride" sat in the back.

About this time, Maud and Robert's son-in-law, Orville Campbell, received a telegram from his brother in southern California to "Come at once . . . Stop . . . a job for you . . . Stop." Orville didn't stop. He borrowed money from his father-in-law and dusted out. He went to work on a canal in Imperial Valley. A job was like "pennies from heaven!" The Glen and the family went to the Valley in the spring. Another job opened in Oregon during the summer building ammunition dumps. Robert, Maud and families came out and the men worked there until fall.

There in the dusty desert town of Niland, people told of seeing old leathery skinned Japanese on the street weeping silently with tears streaming down their faces.

At Pearl, witnesses would tell of black smoke from burning oil bunkers, the glow of fire as the USSA, the largest battle ship in the world, burned along with the Oklahoma, the Cassin, the Downs, the Shaw and many destroyers. The list of the missing was long, very long.

As news filtered back to the states, we heard names we all knew. Neighbor boys, school friends and acquaintances were missing.

World War II was on! Defense work was now full steam ahead in San Diego. It was there that Wess and Orville Campbell kept their hammers hot. The families lived at a community east of San Diego called Flinn Springs. Jobs were plentiful there and soon Dude and Mattie Cashatt and their sons and daughters' families arrived. Willard and Carl Cashatt, Nina and Charles Cavin and family moved there and began working.

The rumble of heavy troop trucks could be heard all night on most nights along highway 80, their lights camouflaged, making a ghostly endless caravan. A huge blimp hovered above San Diego like a fat, ugly bird . . . eerie in the early dawn.

Islands of Corrigedor, Battan and Guam were in grave danger. Each news cast sounded worse than the day before. Servicemen were never told of the day or hour of departure. Posters were splashed at every bus terminal, park and restaurant saying "DON'T TALK!"

Disc jockeys played "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree With Anyone Else But Me." Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys swung into "Silver Dew on the Bluegrass Tonight" and it seemed everyone stood a bit taller when they heard "There's a Star-Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere."

Three grandsons of Clark and Sarah were now in the service, Earl and Rollie Cashatt and Glen Diment. Earl and Rollie were in the thick of it. Glen was stationed at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, where he fingerprinted recruits. Many of those recruits were his relatives, Adams, Cashatts and others. He was later stationed in France. Willard Jr, the youngest grandson of Clark Cashatt went into the service later.

Willard Grove, the youngest grandson of Hayes Grove was also in the war.

The Dude Cashatt family and Maud and Robert Diment went to work at defense plants. The Ford building in Balboa Park was the aircraft training center for the Convair defense plant. Balboa Park had been known to be one of the greatest hospital training centers in the world. The wounded from Pearl Harbor were brought directly to San Diego. Maud became a riveter on the B29 bomber in 1943. She took her job seriously, but the "fly in her coffee" was the requirement of wearing slacks. My gosh, how she hated wearing slacks! The women were also required to wear a turban around their hair.