The Old Dillard Settlement

Jan - Feb - Mar, 2001

Mom's stove was an old Home Comfort, sorta gray speckled, as I remember, and, my, what good food would, come off and from within that stove. Sometimes there was more fat than she could render out in the oven, then she would put the rinds and fat in a cooker or iron skillet on top of the stove. If there was still more, there was always that old black wash kettle outside, which made it awfully good to cook in, and besides, all the grease fumes were outside, instead of all in the house.

When working with the meat for hours upon hours, you were ready to open up

the house and get some fresh air. After a rest from your labors of preserving pork it was time to reap your re ward of crackling cornbread, fried tenderloin, liver lights, head cheese, scraples and, as soon as the ham, shoulders, hogjowl and bacon were cured by the salting down and smoking, Mom would bring out a ham and cut into the best parts for a sample, as well as frying sausage to see if it had the right amount of sage.

I was reminded of all this and the times, Leon and I prepared this type of food for our families when Wesley brought me out a sample-well, a little more than just a sample, since I love it so much-of cured smoked ham which be had received from Max "Mousy" Wallace. Max, you did the most excellent job of home curing and smoking that ham that I have seen in many years, and as good as way back when. If you' went into the business of selling this tasty meat, you would become a millionaire without ever going to the TV show, "Who Wants to be al Millionaire?" I even made a dish of "frog-eyed" gravy to eat with biscuits and sorghum. This has furnished me with the taste, smell and looks of many years ago.

Carl Jones and I were talking over some of the times of the hog-killing days the other morning and how saving our parents were of every part of the pork. He was reminded of some year ago when he and Ann were teaching school at Wales, Alaska. The natives had killed a whale and he the privileged to watch and help with the butchering. He said it took them a day to get the ice chunked and cut down into a ramp to pull the whale out of the ocean. The whole community was called on to help pull it up the ice ram to carry out the process o cutting it up. What a job that must have been. Before the butchering began, it was ritual or custom to pour water down the whale's mouth before starting the cutting. I wonder why. It took hours to complete the job of taking care of each and every part. He said nothing was wasted, because he took Ann to see where it had been butchered and all that was left were spots of blood and the ravens were trying to find just a morsel of food to eat.

Ann received a letter from one of her ex-students of Wales the other day and he told her he had killed three polar bears and it made him so happy. His dad had loved to hunt and it seemed he was following in the same footsteps. This brought up an other subject of how those Alaskans completed the job of cleaning bear hides.

I remember when my dad, brother, grandpa and uncles would scrape the hides of their winter catch, preparing them for market, also sheep and goat hides to make a rug and for other uses, but the last process of the natives of Alaska was not used around here-although it could have been this year, with all the ice.

Back to the bear skins... after the larger portion of meat and fats were scraped off, the skins were given to the youngsters to climb the ice-and snow-covered mountains and use for sliding down the mountains. Of course, they sat on the fur side, with the underside worked next to the ice, cleaning the rest of the fat from the hide. How does that sound for a sled ride, kids?

Raymond Lynch and family were here in the settlement over the holiday season. They have their home in Alaska now and I wonder how they take care of their hides. I know they have them, because his wife is very talented at making caps, etc., from the hides. It was a pleasure to see them again. Hurry back.

Once upon a time, when Uncle Jim Still lived near Buffalo River, he told two of his young sons, Rufus, 10, and Theodore, who wasn't far from the same age, to go hitch up the mules to the wagon, then go down and get a load of corn. They did. At this time Jim and his family were farming on the river but had their houses on top of the ridge (as was often the custom).

Rufus and his brother did as they were told and to the river they went. All the roads to Buffalo River are steep sand how two little boys can manage this is past my understanding. They had no problem loading the corn. All went well until they started up the steep hill to home.

We all know a mule has a stubborn streak and one of ;these mules showed that streak about halfway up the mountain. They tried all the old-time ways remembered, such as blindfolding, talking pretty straight" to him and using the reins rather roughly, but nothing helped.

Then it entered their mind of the last resort, which they had heard of-build a fire Under him and that would make him stir. They gathered up a few sticks and dry leaves, lit a match to it and that worked. You bet it did. The mule's response was two or three big jumps and the stubborn streak was gone. He and his teammate took off up the hill with the wagon and corn on fire. That was a total loss and Uncle Theodore Still stated, "That was the dumbest thing I ever did."

They did solve one problem. . .the mule moved.

She had seen the Lindsey Woolsey quilt picture in the Echo and before her stroke she had a hobby of collecting old quilts and making new ones. She did such beautiful work-little, little stitches. I am glad you did that, I think I'll keep mainly with the ghosts and story telling.

Once upon a time, Geraldine's father and my father, Pate, were known as the Dillard Brothers in different businesses they shared. They dealt in a sawmill and lumber, as did their dad, Doc, before them and in the year, I believe, 1927, they had the Chevrolet dealership in Yellville. Their ad in the Echo read something like this:

"Service and courtesy is our motto--Dillard Brothers Chevrolet, Nowlin Building, south side of square, Yellville."

This was just above a picture of the new Chevrolet Sport Coupe. Listen to this: "During the past 20 years the American public has purchased 4,883,865 Chevrolet cars. Seventy-two percent of these, 3,511,651, are still in active service," with a few more words, then they stated the prices: "Roadster, $75; Sport Roadster with rumble seat, $195; Coach or Standard Five-Window Coupe, $515; Pharton, $535; Sport Couple (Rumble Seat), $575;Convertible Cabriolet, $615;

Standard Sedan, $635; and Special Sedan, $650."

I guess we can't get one now, since they don't have a heater, air conditioner or seat belts.

I did like rumble seats I remember when Geraldine and I played in one such old- time car at Mom and Dad's. Our game of pretend was, "We are going to California when we grow up" (probably felt grown then) and what all we would do."

Well, Jerry, you made it... I never did.