Our Hawkins Surname

Most of my research to date has been to discover our American Indian ancestry. I found both Cherokee and Catawban heritage. Lately, I have been confronted with the possibility that we might have Tuscaroran or Pamunkey heritage as well, or perhaps in place of the Catawban. I only admit those as possibilities. I still think the most likely suspect is Saponi, a band of the Catawba. Well I am pretty much finished with my research in these fields, unless something new comes up. 

Most of the Blog entries from here on will be concerning the history of my other ancestors. Although there is the possibility our Hawkins ancestry might have an American Indian component, I suspect that it does not. This blog entry is about our ancestors that carried the Hawkins surname.

Our Hawkins Surname

The origin of our Hawkins surname is hard to figure out. This largely because we can’t discover the line very far back in time.
I am Vance Hawkins. I was born in on December 28^th, 1952, in Okmulgee, Okmulgee County, Oklahoma. [BIRTH CERTIFICATE]. My family was in Okmulgee because Dad, as a result of his service in the Army during WW2, was granted an opportunity to go to a trade school, Okmulgee State Tech. [MODERN PICTURE OF SCHOOL].

Dad was born Alpha (called Alfie) Omega Hawkins, on August 15^th, 1915, on a farm near Manitou, Tillman County, Oklahoma. He said it was taken from the Bible, and was in the Book of Revelations. “Jesus said I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last.” But dad was neither; he was the 5^th of 8 children. I was always told Dad’s grandma, Josephine (Brown) Richey was a midwife, and she delivered him, as well as mama, who was born a month later on a neighboring farm. 

Dad’s Stories

“1. Coalie 

He had a few stories about his growing up. One was that when he was very young, he had a dog named “Coalie”. He said it was named “Coalie” because it was black as coal. One day dad said he was told that he disappeared. He was just 4 or 5 years old. Everyone was looking for him. “Where was Alfie? Where had he gone.” They looked everywhere.  Finally when he was found, it was in the dog house curled up with Coalie, both fast asleep, that he was discovered.

“2. The Pet Bull

The next story dad would tell was when he was maybe 10 or 12 years old. It always started an argument between Dad and Mama. He’d start talkin’ about his “pet bull”. I am not talking about a breed of dog, but an actual bull that became a family pet. He talked about it being his job to raise the bull. The family knew he loved that bull, so he was spared the “trip to market” that doomed other cattle born on the farm. If Mama heard Dad start to tell this story, she’d come closer and listen for her cue to interrupt it.

Dad would say when both he and the bull were young, the bull could see him coming from a long way off, and run up to greet him. Dad said he lived to be scratched between where his horns were growing in, and he’d oblige. As time passed, the bull grew to expect to be scratched between his horns, and so would lower his heard when he saw Dad coming, indicating he wanted to be scratched. That was Mama’s cue. She’d interrupt; “That bull was mean!” She and her other brothers and sisters, maybe others, would take a short cut, and walk to and from school through the Hawkins pasture. They lived on neighboring farms. She’d say they always kept a lookout for Dad’s bull. Of course that little calf Dad raised grew up into a large bull. Mama’d say that bull, if it saw them walking in the pasture, would run at full gallop towards them, terrifying them! They’d all start running as fast as they could towards the barbed wire fence, hoping to get on the other side before the bull got too close.  The only trees in the pasture were mesquite and they have huge thorns – so they had to make it through the barbed wire fence, or else.

Now this was Dad’s cue to interrupt. He’d let her have her say until she got to this point. Then he’d say; “That bull wasn’t mean!” Whenever he saw Dad he’d also gallop at high speed, excited to see him! Mama’d say; “On the times that he got close he’d lower his head pointing his horns directly at the nearest child!” Dad’d reply, “He’s always done that, since he was a little calf. He just wanted his forehead scratched.” Mama never believed Dad’s story, and looked horrified as she gave her two cents, and Dad always had a smile on his face as he told his side. Then the story’d degenerate into an argument, but an argument I must have heard a hundred time. They never agreed on the details.

“2. One of Dad’s Chores During the Dust Bowl

There is another story about that bull. During the era of the Dust Bowl Dad would has it was his job to take care of the cattle. They never had a lot of cattle, but they might have one or two dozen head, that’s all. All the farms were like that. Dad would say you could see the dust clouds from a long way off. They got to know from seeing the dust in the distance how much time they had. All the boys wore a bandana around their necks. When the dust clouds came, dad had a job to do. He’d go out to the pasture. Of course his huge “Pet Bull” would see him and he too, had a job to perform, and he knew to do it. Dad said he’d ride that bull as though it was a horse. The other cattle knew to follow the bull.  Dad would lead the bull towards the barn and all the other cattle would follow the bull. In that way, they could get out of the worst of the dust, into a barn where they could breathe better. Oh, and that bandana he wore round his neck? Dad would say he’d turn it around “like the outlaws in old westerns”. That would prevent them from breathing in so much dust.

“3. A Short Story Dad Would Tell About His Father and their Mules

I almost forgot about this one. Dad also had a story about their family mules. Dad liked mules, and occasionally would mention them. He also mentioned that when he was young a trip to town and back home was a day long journey. When he was young they had no car and went to town in a mule driven wagon. There were times when his father went to town in a mule driven wagon. This is just a very short story, but it tells us something about people’s relationships with their animals a hundred years ago, so different from today. 

Apparently when grandpa went to town, he did so with a team of mules. Now they lived nine or ten miles from town. It took hours to travel that distance. By the time he was ready to return home it might be nightfall. When they went to the grocery store, they’d return with fifty or a hundred pounds of flour or corn meal, things like that. By nightfall he’d be tired. Dad said there were times he’d return late from town, and at some point would fall asleep on the way home. Dad would say if he got sleepy, he might crawl in the back and lay down. The mules knew the way home. When he awoke in the morning they’d be close to the house, waiting for him to drive them the last few feet, unharness then and set them free to nibble as much grass as they wanted. Later when he was in the army he’d tell stories of Army mules hauling big artillery guns. Trucks could get stuck in the mud, but mules never did, if you had enough of them. He liked mules.

“4. Dad’s Comanche Boss

Uncle Cecil lived in Lawton as I was growing up in Altus. Lawton is/was 55-60 miles east of Altus. The modern four lane highway hadn’t been built yet. The modern road hadn’t been built yet. It bypasses all the small town. The old highway just went from one small town to the next, until arriving in Lawton. One small town, Headrick, has pretty much died since that time. The rest re still around, and seem fine outwardly. I don’t any of them will ever completely recover, though. But the old highway had more character, winding around some, whereas the new highway it just a straight line mostly, passing from Altus to Lawton.

When I was young, We’d use the old highway to go to Lawton. It wound around and through all the small towns. Somewhere near the towns of Indiahoma or Cache, probably between the two towns, dad would start to tell a story of his first job outside of home.

First, a short geography and history lesson. The towns between Altus and Lawton are closest to Altus, Headrick, then Snyder, Indiahoma, Cache, and finally Lawton. First and furthest west are Altus and Headrick are in Jackson County, Next in the middle is Snyder in Kiowa County. A road flows south from Snyder to Manitou and Frederick both in Tillman County. Below both Jackson and Tillman County is Red River and the state of Texas. East of Snyder are the towns of Indiahoma and Cache, both in Comanche County, as is Lawton. While many Kiowa allotments are found in Kiowa County, many Comanche Allotments are in Comanche County. Instead of tribal reservations as in other states, Oklahoma Indian peoples were given 160 acres. Although the government tried to turn the Plains Tribes into both farmers and Christians, this proved a confusing talk for the tribesmen. Tribal members had been told not to harm the farmers cattle or horses, but these same “Christian farmers” were free to kill of all the buffalo of the Indian peoples. They were told to convert to the religion of the people that sanctioned this double standard. Young Indian boys and girls were sent to Indian schools where they were punished if they spoke their own language.  However during World War Two, some Comanche boys were recruited to be “Code Talkers”, meaning they used their own language as a code that the Germans never were able to crack. Dad was telling me this in the 1950s and 60s after WW2, of an event that took place before the war, the late 1920s or the early 1930s.

Now some of the Comanche land allotments were in the country between Indiahoma and Cache. These allotments were just a few miles from where he was raised on a farm east of the small town of Manitou, and south of Frederick. They grew up knowing some Comanche families.

Now for a short while during the Dust Bowl era both my grandparents families lost their farms, but were able to reclaim them. I don’t know the details.  If you look at the census records for many counties in Southwestern Oklahoma, you will see about 30,000 people in many counties in 1930, and in 1940 they were reduced to 10-20 thousand persons.  One reason Dad’s family wasn’t one of those is the story Dad told me. He only had an 8^th grade education as he had to work. He said his first “paying job” was his work for a “Comanche Rancher”. I am sure at one point he mentioned the mans name. But I was a child at the time, wasn’t interested in history, and I made no effort to recall it later, or ask him for it afterwards. But as we’d be driving to Lawton to visit Uncle Cecil, somewhere between Indiahoma or Cache, Dad would point off to the side of the road and say he used to work for the man that owned that land. He’d then add that his job was “riding fence” around the man’s property. He said if there were any holes in the fence, he’d repair them. I am sure he had other jobs, but that is what he chose to share. He also said the money he made helped the family get back up on their feet, and his job working for this Comanche man helped the family remain in Oklahoma, and saved them from the need to migrate west, as so many others had to do.

“5. The Civilian Conservation Corps

About that time Roosevelt was elected, and the nightmare of twelve years of Republican rule came to an end. One job creating opportunity the Roosevelt Administration introduced was what Dad called “The C. C.’s”, but they are known to history as the “Civilian Conservation Corps”.  He joined them and most of his check was sent every month to his family. I remember Dad saying Roosevelt’s programs “saved their lies”. Modern day Oklahoman’s have forgotten what their grandparents went through and need to be reminded, because they are voting for descendants of the people who started the Great Depression of the 1930s. Didn’t they learn anything? Apparently not.

He’d talk about building the Dams, campsites, trails and some buildings found in the Wichita Mountain Wildlife Refuge just to the North of Lawton. After mama died, my sisters sold my parents house and I wasn’t informed of it. When I did find out, I raced over there to look through the place as I still had a key. I was very sad when I realized the old photos were all gone. But I did get lucky as I found a small silver filing cabinet. It was a gold mine. Dad’s old documents were inside, including a few things from  his days in the CCs. Unfortunately, Dad wanted some large photos donated to the Wildlife Refuge and I couldn’t find them.

I hope to scan some of those CCC documents and share them here.

“6. World War Two Stories

After Dad’s time in the Civilian Conservation Corps he joined the Army. He said he joined the Army Artillery because he wanted to get stationed close to home, and he lived close to Fort Sill which is just North of Lawton, and it is the location and home of the Army Artillery School. When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, he was already stationed at Schofield Barracks on the Island of Oahu. Dad had several stories about World War Two. This is what I recall of them.

Dad had a couple of stories about Hawaii which happened before December seventh. One was what sure sounded to me like a date, but he didn’t call it that. He mentioned he ate dinner with a Japanese-American girl at her family’s house. He gave no details. A second story he told was about some of them throwing away some kind of gelatinous insect repellant and replacing it with strawberry jam. They’d spread it over their bodies to keep the insects off. Well, this particular batch didn’t repel the insects very well.

Years later when watching “Mash” about the Korean War Dad said there really were a lot of practical jokers, but would add the officers never played the practical jokes like in the tv show – it was the enlisted men who did that 😊.

“A. Pearl Harbor

I try to tell Dad’s WW2 story every year on December 7^th. As I write, it is December 7^th, 2017.  Dad was in the Army when the War started and was on Oahu. Here is how he’d tell that story, but in my words., as I recall his. He would start the story by telling about being put on alert on Friday. He said, being in the Artillery, they would get their big guns ready and take them over the mountains to the coast. Now Schofield Barracks, where he was stationed, is in a valley the middle of Oahu. To get to the coast they had  to cross over the mountains. He said it was raining, and their trucks got stuck in the mud, and they had to bring up some mules to move the guns further. Once in position on the costal side of the mountains, they sat there all day Saturday, only to move back to Schofield by nightfall. Apparently their alert was a false alarm.

Dad said he was very tired after moving those weapons over the mountains and back, and said he almost didn’t get out of bed to eat breakfast. But being a son of the Dust Bowl, he couldn’t sleep in and miss a meal. Breakfast was being served in a chow line outside. He was a corporal at the time and he was good friends with the Mess Sergeant, or cook. He said he casually went over to the cook, and started talking to him. This way he didn’t have to stand in line. He just got a plate and started filling it. 

About this time off in the distance they saw some air planes approaching. They were expecting this to happen and no one thought anything of it. As young men will do, they pretended to shoot at the incoming planes. Some pretended to be holding M1’s or BAR’s. Some of the guy pretended to be shot, and fell. I am not sure how long this lasted. At some point after this they realized those men they though were just playing around, and who fell pretending to be shot, were not pretending. They had actually been shot. At this point in his story he always spoke calmly and barely above a whisper. Those planes were Japanese. 

Dad added his first thought was to run over to the supply room to get weapons. As it was locked, he and those with him broke in the door, and got weapons to shoot at the Japanese planes. The Japanese flew over Schofield on their way to Pearl Harbor, so my Father was one of the first people to realize we were at war. Through the years of course they’d heard many stories about Pearl Harbor. After Dad passed away I remember mama saying his Pearl Harbor story was different from the others. She said everyone else who told their story talked about escaping with their lives, but Dad’s story was about getting weapons to fire back with, and she was proud of him. I hadn’t thought of that before.

One last thing. Dad said when it was over and he went back to is bunk, there was broken glass on it, and his bunk had bullet holes in it. And he realized it was a good thing that he got up and went down to the chow line. I don’t think he ever thought about sleeping in again. As long as I knew him, he was always out of bed way before dawn.

Like I said, I feel obligated to share this story every December seventh. I always start from scratch, so no two versions are ever exactly alike. I’ve been doing this for at least 20 years, and I’ll continue as long as I am able.

“B. Stateside

After Hawaii, Dad talked about going to “Camp Cook” which was somewhere near Santa Barbara, California. That’s when anI d where Mom and Dad got married on July 24^th, 1943. Since she talked more about that than Dad did, I’ll save that for a section on her family. Dad also mentioned a cook here who was one of his best friends. I wonder if it was the same guy he knew from Schoefield Barracks in Hawaii? I think it was. Guess I’ll never know for sure. I think he stayed there several months, then went home for a short visit before heading on to “Camp Polk”, later known as “Fort Polk”, in Louisiana. Dad said while stateside, he was a Drill Instructor. I can not picture him, ever, as a Drill Sergeant. 

Oh, he did mention that he took a bus from California to Kansas City. He said some guy started talking to him in the train station, asking him questions and dad was in uniform. He said after the guy left another person came up to him and asked Dad what they talked about. Did they ask about troop movements, or ask any questions about the war? Dad said this second guy was trying to determine if the first guy was some kind of a spy.

Here he mentioned a good friend who was with him in Hawaii, a guy named “Thompson”. They were still travelling together in Louisiana. He gave a story about “Thompson”. Dad was from Oklahoma and Thompson, dad said, was from San Antonio. Dad would say in the beginning he and Thompson literally hated each other, and they did get into a fist fight. Dad also talked about “Golden Gloves” boxing. Apparently that was part of their training. Thompson would say something insulting about Oklahoma and Dad would respond in kind with something about Texas. But there were people from all over the country in the Army. Some people from other parts of the country would say something insulting about Texas and Dad would be just as upset at it as Thompson was. Dad’s father, Noah Allen Hawkins was born in Texas in 1877.  Soon Dad and Thompson had each other’s backs. AN “unwritten law” came into existence between the two of them. Dad could talk trash about Texas and Thompson could talk trash about Oklahoma – But nobody else better try it! They eventually became best friends.

I remember Dad saying that some of the recruits fainted in the humidity and heat at Fort Polk. It wasn’t uncommon. He might have said someone died, but my memory is hazy on that account. Dad would add that he’d get hoarse from shouting and Thompson, who was also made into a D. I. would see it, and come over and take charge until his voice returned. I think they got in touch after the war and contacted one another for a while, as well as is mess sergeant. But that didn’t last.

Well after a few more month at Fort Polk he got on another train that took him to Boston. While there, he was able to see a baseball game between the Red Sox and Yankees. The way he would talk about that game, it was one of the greatest event of his life. He wasn’t there long. He got aboard a big ship – It was either the Queen Elizabeth or Queen Mary – I just don’t remember which, and it took him to – again, I don’t remember – either England or Ireland -- I think England. He said he was an “Artillery Radio Man”. He was sent to the new Third Army commanded by General George Patton. This was shortly after D-Day and the Normandy landings. About this time he heard of his brother’s death near St. Lo in France. Euel Lee Hawkins was in the First Army and was in the Infantry. Dad always called him his “baby brother”. I recall him saying often that she was so upset that his “baby brother” was buried overseas.  He’d add; “no one wanted to be buried overseas.” I doubt if he had any time to mourn as they went across France to the German border.

“C. The Battle of the Bulge

Dad never got specific, just spoke in generalizations. The next thing I remember him talking about was Bastogne. Oh but first he mentioned Patton. I remember him saying the media gave Patton a tough time, and made him seem much worse than he really was. I re call him saying Eisenhower was more a politician even then, than a general. He would say Eisenhower’s job was to keep the peace between British General Montgomery and General Patton. But in the end he’d say Patton did some things he shouldn’t have done and gave Eisenhower no choice but to discipline him.

Dad NEVER liked officers. He talked about his Captain, his battery commander. Once his Captain (I am sure Dad called him by name, but I don’t recall it) had them go to some big old French castle, mansion, ?chateau? out in the country. He forced his men to gather as much wine as they could and fill up the back of their large truck. They were to take it back to the captain’s quarters. Dad would sit in the back of the truck for the return trip. Dad said he was so outraged at being told to steal the wine for their Captain that he tossed it out the back of the truck. The Captain saw to it that Dad never got a single promotion. He arrived in France E5 Sergeant, and was still an E5 Sergeant when the war was over.

Back to Bastogne. Dad said the American commander at Bastogne was ordered to surrender by the Germans and his reply was “Nuts!” He also talked about it being very cold. Here are a couple of stories I only heard when he was older. He mentioned someone being burned to death as they’d started a fire inside their pup tent, and couldn’t get out of it. There were a couple of other sad stories. One was of melting snow revealing six dead German soldiers underneath where they had been sleeping. There was one other where Dad said he saw an American soldier walking out in the woods with a German prisoner, hearing a shot, and the same soldier walking back to camp, alone.

“D. Germany

I remember him mentioning the Black Forrest, Hurtgen Forest, and the Ruhr River – but I have no idea which came first, second or third. During some of this time dad said he kept throwing up, and some times fainting. But he said his Battery Captain didn’t care and wouldn’t let him see a doctor. Finally a doctor did see him, and he sent him immediately back away from the front lines, and ordered him back to London. Dad said he was close to death, and that doctor realized it, and probably saved his life. One of his kidney’s had quit working and he had to have it removed immediately. He lived from mid-1945 until October 1992 with only a single working kidney. Dad never cared for his battery Captain, and it’s probably a good thing I don’t remember his name, which he did mention once or twice.

“E. The Hospitals in London and San Antonio

Dad also often talked of London, and his time in the hospital there. This was near the end of the War in Europe. He never ceased to talk kindly of the English people and hospital personnel. He said a famous English actress walked him around London with him in wheel chair, showing him Westminster Abby, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and the Tower of London. But he never could remember the actresses name. Finally, he was sent to a hospital in San Antonio, Texas, where he was discharged from the Army.

I wanted to get all the stories Dad told and put them in correct chronological order. I might have left something out, or placed it in the wrong order. I did the best I could from memory.

“6. The Rest

After the war, I was told Dad tried farming and couldn’t make it work. Only then did he, through the GI Bill, attend the Tech school in Okmulgee, where I was born on December 28^th, 1952. He learned about Accounting. After graduating, he operated a produce store called “The Rock Station” back in his home in Tillman County. They bought eggs, milk and other items from local farmers, and sold them locally. 

Considering his highest schooling was the eighth grade, the fact that he was able to learn accounting was pretty good. They reopened an Air Base that had closed down after the end of the war, in Altus, Jackson County, Oklahoma, in 1955. Dad was hired by the Accounting and Finance Department. He worked there 20 years retiring in 1975 at the age of 60. He still worked at home doing income tax during the season, and also keeping books for several local businesses. As with all of us, his health gradually deteriorated, and he passed on in October 1992. He was a great story teller, and could keep anyone listening spell bound.

“7. Other Stories

There were a couple of other stories that Dad told that were about earlier generations of the family. These stories were not about the Hawkins’es – but they were stories he told, so I want to place them here with other stories he told.

“A. Sequoyah

We all knew we had some Indian blood. But we’re not on the Dawes Rolls and we knew it. I have relatives who say we descend from Sequoyah and another who says we descend from an unknown brother of Sequoyah. But Dad’s story is a little different. My great-great grandma was named Harriet (Guess/Gist) Brown. Her mother’s name was Rachel Guess/Gist. It is thought her maiden name was “Havens my some with her first husband being a “James Guess/Gist”. Some say Guess/Gist was her maiden name. We are not sure about which is true. Sequoyah did have a daughter named Rachel, but his relatives say Rachel died without baring any children. 

Dad’s story goes as follows. His family lived on a farm and his grandparents lived on the neighboring farm. He walked quite a distance every day as a child to go to school. His grandparents home was in the direct path he took to go to school. At the end of the school day often he stopped for a while at his grandparents house before continuing home, a short distance away. He only attended to the eighth grade but in the 7^th or 8^th grade he took a class in “Oklahoma History”. One day when he was on his way home he stopped at his grandparents house, and his grandma thumbed through his Oklahoma History book. When his grandma, Josephine Brown, got to the picture of an Indian, said to him; “Did you know you are related to him?”

Dad told me that story when I was young and I didn’t pay much attention to it. But as I grew older, and as he grew older, I wished I’d been more curious. Everyone in the family knew it was Sequoyah, but everyone also wanted more evidence of it. Finally one day I asked him which picture of an Indian in that Oklahoma History book was it that she’d pointed to. He could have easily said Sequoyah’s as he’d heard the same stories. But all he ever replied to me was “I just don’t remember”. There are two famous paintings of Sequoyah and I showed Dad pictures of both, but his response was always the same – “I just don’t remember.”

“B. A Wild Turkey Gobler’s Feathers

There was another story he’d tell about Aunt Etta. She was really my great aunt, but I always called her “Ain’t Ettie”. This is a story about when they lived in the western part of the Chickasaw Nation before Oklahoma became a state, probably in the late 1880’s or early 1890’s. Quanah Parker had just surrendered and come in to the reservation reserved for the Comanche in 1875, and there were occasional skirmished until at least 1877. So only a decade or so had passed. Dad used the term “Wild Indians” for the Plains Tribes and I once asked a Chickasaw about that term, “Wild” Indians. He assured me, “yes”, they all called the Plains tribes by that name.

This is a story Dad was told from either his mama or his grandparents, I don’t know which. Anyhow, one day Aunt Ettie came running towards the house.  She would have been a child I don’t know, maybe ten or so years old. She was clearly upset and said; Wild Indians are crawling towards the house! I saw their feathers in the tall grass!” Dad said his grandpa, Jeff Richey, calmly got a weapon, I don’t remember if it was a shot gun or a rifle, and he walked out in the pasture n the direction his daughter had said the “Wild Indians” were coming. Remember it had been only a decade since the last of the Comanche had come in to settle on the lands the government had assigned for them. And my great grandparents lived very close to the border between them and the Chickasaw. A Chickasaw friend told me that Comanche and Kiowa raids were common in those days, raids for horses and cattle. So this was a real concern.

Then Dad would add that his grandpa was gone several minutes, and they finally heard the sound of a weapon being fired. A few more minutes passed. Everyone in the house wondered what was going on outside. Had someone been shot? Finally, Jeffrey came in. He had a turkey gobbler with him. They ate well that night. Apparently those “Indian feathers crawling through the tall grass” were just wild turkey feathers.

Grandpa, Noah Allen Hawkins

I don’t know much about grandpa, Noah Allen Hawkins. I know he was born in Robertson County, Texas in 1877. He is on the 1880 and 1900 census there. Marriage records say he married grandma (Loney Richey) in 1904 near Loco, in the Pickens District of the Chickasaw Nation. If you look on a map, you see Loco would have been on the western edge of the Chickasaw Nation. Census and marriage records say he moved up to Indian Territory between 1900 and 1904. At some point between 1904 and 1910 they left the Chickasaw Nation and moved to Tillman County, Oklahoma.

“1. A Little History of Tillman County

Per the website, http://www.okhistory.org/publications/enc/entry.php?entry=TI003 , . . . Tillman County was organized at 1907 statehood from a portion of Comanche County. . . .  In the 1600s Spaniards were the first Europeans to arrive, using the Great Spanish Road that paralleled the North Fork of the Red River. . . .  In 1867 the Medicine Lodge Treaty created a reservation for the Kiowa, Comanche, and Apache (KCA) in southwestern Indian Territory. By the 1880s prominent Texas ranchers Daniel and William Thomas Waggoner and Samuel Burk Burnett leased grazing lands from those tribes. [Vance’s note: A daughter of dad’s Uncle Oscar Richey married one of the Burnett boys. There is also a record of Great Grandpa Richey (Oscar’s dad) leasing lands from the Kiowa Agency for raising cattle]. 

. . . In 1892 the Jerome Commission began enrolling the Kiowa, Comanche, and Apache in preparation for the opening their reservation to non-Indian settlement. On August 6, 1901, a lottery was held to open those lands, and in December 1906 the area known as the Big Pasture was made available to non-Indian settlers. Since the lottery was in 1901 and my grandparents were married in 1904, I doubt that we took part in the lottery. Lona’s parents might have, though. I just don’t know. I honestly don’t know the exact year they moved one county to the west. Loco is in what is now Stephens County, and Tillman County borders it to the west. Stephens County had been a part of the Pickens District of the Chickasaw Nation white Tillman County had been a part of the Comanche/Kiowa/Apache Reservation lands.

“2. Home Is Where It Is

From what I’ve heard, Noah’s farm was east of the Manitou/Frederick road. I believe they at some point during the Dust Bowl era lost their farm, but either later got it back, or they got another farm back. There was a story of while homeless, they got a sheet of tin and dug a hole, using the tin as a roof, and lived in a half dugout for a while.

“3. Ol’ Frank

I remember dad talking about an Old Black man who lived with them for a while. Dad said the man would boast that he had at one time been the slave of Andrew Jackson. This is unlikely as he would have had to have been 100 years old. Now they picked cotton during the season. They had to have their own buckets of water. Dad said they all drank from the same tin cup. Dad said the former slave (‘Ol Frank) would show them a dent in the tin cup and tell them (Dad was a child); “Don’t you drink from the side of the cup that has the dent, cause that’s where I drink from.” Dad also said “Ol Frank” slept in the smoke house.

“4. Uncle Eddie

Dad had Hawkins Uncles from Texas who would come up and stay with the family for several months at a time, then move on. He mentioned one uncle, an “Uncle Eddie” who he said came up for a visit. I was told that while here, he contracted some illness, and he never recovered. He said his uncle Eddie passed away, and that they buried him of the farm.  Of course that land pas been bought and sole a dozen times by now. There are far fewer farmers today than there were in the 1920s and 30s. The average size of farms now is over 800 acres. All the old farm houses are gone. They stood as little shacks for decades before finally caving in, or being bulldozed over by new owners. I have often wondered what ever became of Uncle Eddie’s grave. I’ve never seen it, just heard about it. I suspect the present owner has no idea there is a grave somewhere on that property.

“5. Arizona

I have no idea why Grandpa and grandma split up. They had eight children together. I know some uncles acted like they were upset at grandpa, their father. But in all such matters, I go by what Dad said, and he acted like he always loved his papa. Both of my parents always said “mama and papa”. Mama sometimes called her father "poppy". I was raised to say “mom and dad”. I don’t know when they split up either. For a long time I always thought he died about the same time I was born, 1952 or 3.  Some how I heard he died in a place called “Eloy, Arizona”. Well I conducted a lot of research online, and finally found his gravesite. I wrote off and got information about his last days.  He died in 1957, as I thought in Arizona, and he was penniless. Although I was just over four years old when he died, I never met him. Here are the official records I found of grandpa's death.

This document says grandpa was born in 1875. His death was 1957. But the interesting thing is that it calls "Oklahoma" as his place of birth.  We know he came to Oklahoma from Texas and that he was born in Texas, so they wrote down his place of birth incorrectly. He was also born, per these records in 1875. Had he been born in Oklahoma in 1875, that would have placed his birth in “Indian Territory”. Oklahoma only became a state in 1907, 32 years after his birth. No member of his family was present at his death. I don’t think Dad was notified at the time of his death, but I am not certain. Dad always said he wished his father’s body had been brought home. I think some people were notified, perhaps some of dad’s brothers -- but I know of no details. Apparently no one told them of the location of his birth.

He must have known some people in Arizona when he died. Perhaps one of them knew he talked of living in Oklahoma and they told local officials. Maybe he had papers with him at the time of his death that mentioned he had a family in Oklahoma. But again, at the time of his birth, most people living in Indian Territory (Oklahoma) were American Indians. Arizona only became a state in 1912, five years after Oklahoma became a state. Both states had a large American Indian population at the time, and still do. Arizona officials would have known this, and they would have known that most people born in Oklahoma in 1875 would have been American Indian. I wonder if he told anyone in Arizona he had Indian blood? Since he must have told someone in Arizona he was an Oklahoman, perhaps he did. I have another document that hints at this possibility.

Joshua Allen Hawkins

Joshua is also a hard man to track down. He is listed on 1860 and 1880 census in Texas, where it says he was born in Alabama. Several years ago we noticed a parcel of land bought by Joshua A. Hawkins in what would become Lamar County, Alabama in 1858. For several years I looked at Hawkins families in that county. However three or four years ago another document came to light. Apparently in that same year, 1858 – Joshua went to jail prison in Huntsville, Texas. He was in jail for two years for “theft”. However on that document it says “Nativity” which means place of birth – “Alabama”. But under “county” it says “Cherokee”. Under residence it again redundantly says “Alabama”. Census records place his birth either 1834 or 1837. So if he was born in either 1834 or 1837 in what was to become Cherokee County, Alabama, then he would have been born within the bounds of the Cherokee Nation as it existed at that time. He would have been  a child at the time of removal between 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5 years of age. We have never made any headway at finding his parents. Please note that at that time there were a great many intruders living in the Cherokee Nation at the time of removal.

Here is the 1880 census record (above) that states Joshua A. Hawkins was born in Alabama. It states that he was 45 years old at the time of the census, meaning he was born @ 1835. The same census says both of his parents were also born in Alabama. That would put his parent’s births between the 1790s at the earliest, to about 1815 or 20 at the latest. Per the record below, he was from Cherokee County, Alabama. At the time of his birth, Cherokee County, Alabama was still a part of the Cherokee Nation. Wm. E. Hawkins is dad's "Uncle Eddie", the one buried on their farm. "Noah A." is grandpa. The census says he is 3 years old, meaning birth abt 1877, not 1875 as was stated on his death certificate.

If he was born in the Cherokee Nation then he might have been of mixed race. If so, he would have been a small child at the time of Indian removal. It is possible that by coming to Oklahoma and marrying grandma, he was simply trying to discover some of his roots. We will never know.