MUSEUM MEMORIES
The Story of Buster Zachry
Many pioneers have left a great legacy in the stories of their lives
they have told
to their families and friends. It is even better when, by hook or
crook, some of
these stories are recorded and shared. I had the privilege of
listening to Buster
Zachry several years ago as he and I sat at the table after lunch at
the Petrolia
Senior Citizens’ Center with a little tape recorder going. The
following is an
abridged account of some of his stories. The full script is in our book,
"It Used to
Be That Way: Remembered Bits of Clay County History," available at
the museum. -
Lucille Glasgow
"I’m Buster Zachry - that’s a nickname. My real name is H.C. Zachry -
Henry Clement
Zachry. I was born March 26, 1906, in Henrietta but we lived over at
Benvanue. My
parents were H. C. and Dora Lea (Frey) Zachry.
"My mother’s people - Grandpa Frey - came when he was a boy in
about 1872 from
Louisiana. He ran away from home and came with a wagon train when he was
a boy. The
wagon train came through Cambridge on the way west. He got out of it -
said this was
as far as he was going to come. He went to work for old man Whaley, who
grew oats,
hauled them to Ft. Sill and sold them to the army."
"We lived in Petrolia for a time, where I started to school in 1912.
During this time
my sister Willie Faye taught school in Petrolia and out southwest at
Kempner (just
east of the Broday Ranch).
"There’s an old rock house out there, still there, where an old
bachelor lived. He
sold a bunch of steers and had $200,000. Someone robbed him and killed
him there by
the fireplace. They never did know who did it. Lots of money hunters
went there
later. There’re big holes around that house. The bachelor had been
in the war -
Spanish American, I guess - anyway, a way back. He was an old man when he
was killed.
My grandpa always told to our family that a fellow that lived near
where the Lone
Star Plant is now went over there and killed him and robbed him. I don’t
know how he
knew it or anything. He never would call any names.
"In 1915 my dad and Grandpa went together and bought 2 sections of land
up by Happy,
Texas, out on the Plains. My dad and another fellow drove a bunch of
horses up there.
It was all grass land - not much plowed up. They thought it was
good ranching
country; it had good mesquite grass on it but the winters were too cold.
You had to
feed the stock all year long. You could ride over a four-wire fence out
there in the
winter time when the snow drifted up over the fences.
"My dad kept the land several years after he moved away from it - got
$37.50 an acre
that he gave $7.00 for. Made a little money that way. Happy is about 20
miles from
Canyon toward Lubbock. After we left there, they found irrigation water
and the land
is now in irrigated farming.
"When we came back, Grandpa bought a place this side of Henrietta on
Turkey Creek
called the Yellow House Place. We lived there for 2 years before
we moved to
Petrolia. I believe Katherine, my youngest sister, and Claud and Carl
went to Willow
Springs School. They drove a mule to a buggy. Elsie was going to school in
Henrietta,
where she later finished. She stayed in Henrietta with Grandpa and Grandma
Frey.
"Grandpa and Grandma raised and educated 6 of their grand kids.
"They came out on the Plains to visit us one summer. They had a Buick car
and let the
tops down, had a big seat in the back. They just loaded those kids in
and went on
that route to Amarillo by way of Claude. Grandpa and Grandma use to stay
all night at
the Goodnight Ranch with Colonel Goodnight.
"When we came off the Plains and moved back down here, we had 2 train
carloads of
stuff - one of furniture and farm implements and I think Mama had some
chickens and
geese in there too, and one carload of horses. You are allowed one
person to ride
with the stock in the boxcar - in the caboose you called it - that’s
where you rode.
Papa was going to pass me - I was going to ride in the furniture car
and he in the
caboose. Papa fixed me a good place to lie. When I got in it, I got my
head bumped
because it was right up in the top of the boxcar.
"We drove the horses up to the stock pens and loaded them into the
boxcars. It was
evening when we loaded and I got in there and hid. We got into Amarillo
in the night
and it was real cold weather, a few days before Christmas. They
switched us around
there until daylight. We started out on down toward Childress there on
the railroad
the next morning.
"I didn’t know it, but a brakie crawled in there when they were running
and found me.
When I woke up he was shining a light in my face. He wanted to know if
was the only
one in there and I told him, ‘yeah!’ He never said any more to me.
"When the train pulled aside down at Childress to let a passenger train
go by, Papa
came up to where I was and told me to get out, that they had caught me.
The brakie
that had caught me wanted Papa to pay him to let me go on. Papa told him
no and told
me to go on down to the depot and get a ticket and ride the
passenger train. So
that’s what I did.
"I had another experience on the railroad after we came back from the
Plains. We
lived north of Henrietta on the yellow house place and I had cowboyed with
Bud Frey a
lot when I was a boy. He and his wife Mamie had a ranch down at Big Lake
out by San
Angelo. I went out there and worked through the summer. The fall of the
year came and
Bud wanted to buy some cattle from a woman out there who had a bunch to
sell - about
30 miles you had to drive them to town. He wanted us to bring them back
here to the
yellow house place - 3 carloads of them.
"We loaded up out there; I went out with my saddle and horse and drove
these cattle
about 40 miles. I was just one of the bunch helping. We loaded them at
Big Lake on a
car to ship them out. Mamie was going on back to the house and I told her
to bring my
suitcase, that I was going home.
"I got on that train and went into San Angelo that night. The next
morning I had to
get off somewhere to get breakfast. I got with this old brakie. We’d walk
cars - the
train running at the time. We walked the tops of the cars to the engine.
You see, you
rode in the caboose and if you’d got off there, you’d never catch the
train again or
you’d have to walk a long way. They had a café in the railroad yard. We
ate breakfast
and got back on the train. I went on in to Quanah, I believe it was, or
Chillicothe,
to get this Ft. Worth and Denver Railroad. It was in the night. The depots
were plumb
across town from each other even if the town wasn’t very big. They were
about one-
half to a mile apart. I had to carry my suitcase and go afoot across
from one depot
to another to catch the train. They switched my cattle on to the other
railroad.
"When I got over to the Ft. Worth and Denver Railroad, the train was
pulling out and
had up pretty good speed. I was on the side of the railroad when the
caboose came by.
I threw my suitcase in and grabbed the hand rail on the side. When I
got in I was
mad, I guess, because I didn’t like the way they had done me. Anyway I
said something
about it to that brakie and he said, ‘Oh, you’re mad’-it was about
midnight - ‘get up
here and unroll my bed roll and go to sleep.’
"I got to Wichita Falls up there on 7th Street, where you cross all those
railroads.
I got off and the old brakie said, ‘Just stand right here between
tracks. The
train’ll be in in just a few minutes.’
"I was standing there and these trains got to running, one one way and
one the other
way. I could have touched them with my arms. I couldn’t stand up
because I was
getting dizzy - I always was a dizzy headed fellow. I had to sit down
there by my
suitcase. Of course, that leveled me up and we got into Henrietta
that coming
morning. I had had one meal from the time I left San Angelo on Friday
until Monday
morning. What you were supposed to do was get a lunch or carry
some fruit or
something. If it had not been for that brakie carrying me up to that café,
I wouldn’t
have had any.
"We didn’t change lines in Wichita but they kept wanting me to sign a
release to
unload the cattle in Wichita. They had to unload the cattle ever so
often for feed
and water. I wouldn’t let them unload the cattle in Wichita since it
was only 18
miles to Henrietta. There would have been a big bill for feed, water and
time. I was
about 16 or 17 at that time.
"I had another experience on the railroad after we came back from the
Plains. We
lived north of Henrietta on the yellow house place and I had cowboyed with
Bud Frey a
lot when I was a boy. He and his wife Mamie had a ranch down at Big Lake
out by San
Angelo. I went out there and worked through the summer. The fall of the
year came and
Bud wanted to buy some cattle from a woman out there who had a bunch to
sell - about
30 miles you had to drive them to town. He wanted us to bring them back
here to the
yellow house place - 3 carloads of them.
"We loaded up out there; I went out with my saddle and horse and drove
these cattle
about 40 miles. I was just one of the bunch helping. We loaded them at
Big Lake on a
car to ship them out. Mamie was going on back to the house and I told her
to bring my
suitcase, that I was going home.
"I got on that train and went into San Angelo that night. The next
morning I had to
get off somewhere to get breakfast. I got with this old brakie. We’d walk
cars - the
train running at the time. We walked the tops of the cars to the engine.
You see, you
rode in the caboose and if you’d got off there, you’d never catch the
train again or
you’d have to walk a long way. They had a café in the railroad yard. We
ate breakfast
and got back on the train. I went on in to Quanah, I believe it was, or
Chillicothe,
to get this Ft. Worth and Denver Railroad. It was in the night. The depots
were plumb
across town from each other even if the town wasn’t very big. They were
about one-
half to a mile apart. I had to carry my suitcase and go afoot across
from one depot
to another to catch the train. They switched my cattle on to the other
railroad.
"When I got over to the Ft. Worth and Denver Railroad, the train was
pulling out and
had up pretty good speed. I was on the side of the railroad when the
caboose came by.
I threw my suitcase in and grabbed the hand rail on the side. When I
got in I was
mad, I guess, because I didn’t like the way they had done me. Anyway I
said something
about it to that brakie and he said, ‘Oh, you’re mad’-it was about
midnight - ‘get up
here and unroll my bed roll and go to sleep.’
"I got to Wichita Falls up there on 7th Street, where you cross all those
railroads.
I got off and the old brakie said, ‘Just stand right here between
tracks. The
train’ll be in in just a few minutes.’
"I was standing there and these trains got to running, one one way and
one the other
way. I could have touched them with my arms. I couldn’t stand up
because I was
getting dizzy - I always was a dizzy headed fellow. I had to sit down
there by my
suitcase. Of course, that leveled me up and we got into Henrietta
that coming
morning. I had had one meal from the time I left San Angelo on Friday
until Monday
morning. What you were supposed to do was get a lunch or carry
some fruit or
something. If it had not been for that brakie carrying me up to that café,
I wouldn’t
have had any.
"We didn’t change lines in Wichita but they kept wanting me to sign a
release to
unload the cattle in Wichita. They had to unload the cattle ever so
often for feed
and water. I wouldn’t let them unload the cattle in Wichita since it
was only 18
miles to Henrietta. There would have been a big bill for feed, water and
time. I was
about 16 or 17 at that time.
"One experience I had with a team was a close call. My brother and I
were hauling
some posts off that Stanfield place - about 1930, I guess. We were back
over there
and got some posts off the Mexicans and loaded the wagon down. We had
to drive the
wagon winding through the post oaks about a mile. The team got scared
and got to
running. I slid off the posts onto the ground but I still had the lines
in my hands.
I jumped off with my lines in my hand and ran alongside as long as I
could keep up
with them. I turned them loose and tried to jump back on the wagon and
get hold with
my arms. I missed the wagon - really the wagon beam, or the brake beam.
I missed it
and when I did my foot went down in there and when it did it threw me to
the ground.
The mules were running about as fast as they could and they were
dragging me. They
were running by those big old oak trees with me just barely missing
them. They
dragged me about 1/8 th of a mile. I kept twisting my body to get my
foot loose. It
finally did and then the wagon wheel ran over me.
"Of course, Everett was trying to do something for me. I was hollering.
The team came
out where about 100 Mexicans were grubbing. They saw what was
happening and all
gathered around and stopped the mules. That was a pretty close call.
This was at
Stanfield. When they settled it up down there, my dad bought a place there
in 1930.
"Out on the Plains one time I helped a fellow drive 900 steers from
Vigo Park to
Happy. It was 12 miles down to our place and they strung out for 12
miles. It took 4
or 5 cowboys to handle that size herd.
"One time when I was working for Bowman when we lived out where I live
now (south of
Petrolia), he bought 700 calves at Crowell, cut them off the cows up
there, put them
into boxcars and shipped them down here. They unloaded them at Dean and
15 cowboys
drove them down to the other place - the rock house that Freys own
now. When we
turned them out of the pens at Dean, we milled them in a circle for
about an hour,
then headed them this way. I remember Claudie was along and Mutt
Haney...(He was
killed in a car wreck; he was the oldest one of the Haney boys.)
"Homer Lyde and I worked for Bud Frey up there at Kamay. We were driving
a bunch of
horses, about 75, on that Beaver Creek Bridge. About ½ of them missed
the bridge -
went off the bridge and down the creek. I went off to get them and my
horse fell down
in a big briar thicket. This horse I was riding was crazy. The other
horses were
running and nickering. He was down on my leg. He started to get up. I saw
my leg was
caught in the stirrup with a bunch of briars around it. I had to take
my two hands
and pull the briars loose before I could get loose and pull my foot
out of the
stirrup. This bloodied my hands since I didn’t have gloves on. The
horse got loose
and I started walking toward the bridge. I couldn’t see 100 yards with the
briars and
things so thick. Homer came to me after the empty horse went to him. We
were bringing
these horses from Burnett off the Triangle Ranch up at Iowa Park.
Bud had this
leased. He was the only man that ever leased any land from Burnett - 8 or
9000 acres.
"I had this old horse that you just could hardly break. We were getting
the cattle
off that Burnett Ranch. I rode that old horse 16 days without changing
horses - from
sun till sun. I broke him. Bud kept telling me to turn him loose and
catch another
one. I told him no, I was going to break this one. I’d wash his back off
and pet him
around - he had a back sore. This was in the ‘40's.
"My father was born in East Texas, down there at Tyler. Their farm in
later years was
the rose garden down there. Dad and his brothers came to Clay County
in a covered
wagon in the summers to pick cotton for several years before they moved up
here about
1875.
"When my dad married in 1902, he worked for the Byers Brothers Ranch.
He rode the
Wichita River all the time in the spring. The cattle would bog down.
There were 31
miles of the river, counting the bends. He’d pull the cattle out of the
bogs in the
heel fly time.
"I had an uncle, Gene Zachry, a single fellow, who cooked for the Byers
Ranch. When
Suggs Brothers had the land across the river in Oklahoma, in spring
round up the
Byers Brothers would send him and Dad over there to work with them, maybe
a month or
two. He cooked and Dad rode. They went to round up some horses starting at
Lawton and
drove them to the round-up grounds at Waurika, where the sale barn is
today, on that
high hill. One time they were after this bunch of horses - 5,000 of
them; little
colts would be so young they would fall out and die.
"There’s a little town of Sugden between Ryan and Waurika. I remember my
dad saying
he and another fellow spent a winter there in a half dugout. They were
cutting wood
to run the gin.
"When they had the drawing at Lawton for land, my dad got 160 acres. O
course, he had
to prove up on it. This meant he had to build something on it and live
there a year
or two. Right south of the fish place by Waurika (Bill’s), he built a
half dugout on
a high hill. He kept it 2 or 3 years and sold it to his brother,
because he didn’t
like living over there in Oklahoma. The property was later sold to the
man who owned
the picture show in Waurika.
"Grandpa and Great Uncle Mallis lived up at Benvanue on the old Fort
Sill Road that
ran from Jacksboro to Henrietta out through Hurnville past Grandpa’s
place, up by the
Benvanue Cemetery and then across Red River, where there was a ferry.
This ferry was
run by different people - Mr. Jim Dunn was the last one to run it
"Grandpa and Uncle Mallis died fairly close together and were buried
in Benvanue
Cemetery without tombstones until 95 years later when I put them up in
1986.
"Grandpa Zachry had bought this place from this fellow Eustis at
Henrietta, who had
contracted with the government for 100,000 acres to sell to settlers.
You did this
instead of filing as was the custom in New Mexico and other places west of
here. They
paid $1 per acre. Grandpa Zachry had to build a house on it.
I think the Byers Ranch was bought for $1 per acre. It first belonged
to a fellow
named Acres. Then he lost it. He was the same person who had lived in
the log cabin
and owned the land that Grandpa Frey later bought from him. Two of
Mr. Acres’
children are buried somewhere out on the place on land that has been
plowed up. This
is the place a mile east of my house now, also east of the Frey rock
house on the
Petrolia-Henrietta Highway that has the old round barn on it.
"At the present time (1987), Dale Burrus and Ralph Coburn own part of the
old Zachry
place that my grandpa had. My dad used to work for the Burrus family to
help with the
kids when Loma (Mrs. Fred McNeeley) and Dale were little. My dad made the
remark that
Dale was the best man he ever knew but he was the meanest kid he ever saw
when he was
little.
"Petrolia used to have a bank where the grocery store is now - someone
earlier than
Herbert Perkins. When Mr. Perkins was here, his brother was with him.
There were 2
lumber yards, a picture show, a butcher shop here when I was a kid
around town. The
milk cows and horses all ran out then; wagons and buggies were on the
streets.
"Doctors and lawyers - in other words, the rich people - had the
cars. Also some
ranchers had them. Grandpa Frey bought a big old gray Michigan. One day
he drove it
over to Petrolia, where we lived at the time. I was just a kid and he
wanted to carry
us over to Byers. He drove it up to old Doc Cates’ drugstore, where we
were sitting
out on the sidewalk. He said he’d drive us to Byers, to get in. We drove
over there
and back to Petrolia. That was about 1912 when I was about 6. It was a big
thrill.
"Out on the road the horses would be scared as the cars passed them. The
roads were
just old dirt roads which each landowner had to work a portion of or be
fined. The
roads went through pastures and every which way.
"To go to Henrietta, you went on the old Ft. Sill Road by way of
Hurnville. The
Charlie road went through Kempner and crossed the Wichita River on a
rocky bottom
about where the Charlie bridge is now.
"I have this clipping about a robbery that happened over at Geronimo,
Oklahoma. These
fellows robbed a stage of $20,000. It was said they buried the money over
at Charlie
before they were caught and sentenced to the penitentiary. When they got
out, a big
hole was found in these people’s yard. Everybody thought the robbers
had come back
and dug up the money while the family was gone from home.
"A Mr. Whaley was one of the first settlers along Red River. He had 4
or 5 fellows
that lived up where Wichita is now on that creek. They were shocking
oats when the
Indians came in on them and killed several of the white men. The rest of
them crossed
Red River and came back in at the ranch closer to where Byers now is.
"Back before they had barbed wire, they used to dig a ditch around
their fields to
keep the buffalo, deer and antelope from getting their crops. They could
do it with
pick and shovel because they had more time than anything else.
"My mother said she went on many an antelope hunt on this hill over
between here (his
home southeast of Petrolia) and Byers. That was when we lived in the log
house down
on the Frey place.
"Mama said whenever there was an Indian scare, Grandma Frey would take
her 2 little
kids and hide down in the creek. This was when she was living on the Frey
place east
of my present place. Aunt Verdie Frey Hill told me about Quanah Parker
riding up to
see Grandpa one day, that they were good friends. He was on a little old
gray horse.
Grandpa wasn’t home.
"The Indians were always friendly with Donley Suddath. Every time they
came over to
Henrietta he’d take them out and feed them a big meal because they
were always
hungry.
"Grandpa Frey told me one time he was out on the Plains somewhere by
himself. It was
raining so he got down under this rock cliff. He could hear a panther
hollering up
the creek and one answering down the creek all night long.
"In 1925, Grandpa Frey and I went to Wichita to get a bunch of
cattle - about 2
carloads - that were going to be shipped in from Bud’s ranch in Big
Lake. We had to
stay up there 2 or 3 days to wait on them. We were riding around in
Wichita when
Grandpa said, ‘Let’s go over here where I used to cross the river when I
was hauling
buffalo hides from out on the Plains before there was ever a house up
there, just a
crossing on the Wichita River out there north of town.’ The crossing was
about where
Wiley Wolf had an elevator by the old Ohio Street Bridge. We got the
cattle in and
started to drive them out. My horse got scared from the whistle of the
trains and
started running in front of a grocery store and knocked a man down and
almost ran
over him. We brought the cattle on over to Henrietta.
"One time I was working on the ranch out by Dundee. I rode from 6
miles south of
Dundee from the Woodrum Ranch that Freys had leased out there through
Wichita out
here to Petrolia - 65 miles from sun to sun on horseback. I came down
the Seymour
Highway and 7th Street out by the ball park. I was by myself on one horse
and leading
another. Elsie, my sister, was in the old clinic hospital at the time. Out
front were
a bare lot and some sign boards. I tied my horses out there and went in
to see her
for about 30 minutes. I was about 17 or 18 then.
"I was with Grandpa Frey when he was fatally injured in 1925. We
were driving a
registered bull from the Billy Myers Ranch at Bluegrove to the Frey
Ranch north of
Henrietta. We got over there to Henrietta to the feed lots by the oil
mill. We were
trying to drive him away from the fence. Grandpa loped his horse up and
he stumbled
and fell on Grandpa. He crawled up the fence when he got up. He said he
wasn’t hurt,
but he sat down on the ground and I went for help. There were 2 fellows
sitting in a
car up by the oil mill. We carried him up to the house to Grandma. He
lived about 2
days and then died.
"Jesse James was supposed to be over at Henrietta to speak at the school
house. This
was right after Clara and I married. We heard him speak and later asked
Joe Douthitt,
at whose house he had spent the night, if it really was Jesse James.
Mr. Douthitt
said if it wasn’t Jesse James, he certainly knew a lot about him.
Jesse told that
he’d come across Red River lots of nights and had drunk cold buttermilk
out of the
spring over at Whaley’s ranch. Charlie Dawson, the old blacksmith over at
Henrietta -
he was kin to my mother’s folks - said he’d shod Jesse James’s horses many
a time. He
said Jesse would come to Wichita Falls to see his sister, a Mrs.
Palmer, and then
come to Henrietta to get his horses shod. There is supposed to be some
kin of his
buried up at the old Riverside Cemetery and every Memorial Day someone
puts flowers
on the grave. I’ve never been to the grave but I’ve had someone tell me
that.
"In the early days of ranching, to ship cattle, you just drove the
calves and the
cows to a railroad. Then you’d drive the cows back home. The cows would
bawl around
several days, find out the calves weren’t there and then go back to
the railroad
unless you put them into a lot. You drove across country through
people’s pastures.
Sometimes you ran into trouble and sometimes you didn’t. Winter feed was
cotton seed
and hay that had been stacked loose, not baled as it is today.
"Sometimes the ranchers - the Douthitts, Burruses, and the Freys - would
get together
and move their cattle across the river into Oklahoma in the summer time
to graze on
Indian lands. In a museum up at Lawton, there is a picture of Chief White
Horse, and
it quotes him as saying he burned Henrietta down at a certain date.
I remember
Grandma saying Henrietta had been burned and no one came back until
after the Civil
War. A fellow by the name of Koosier was killed during the raid.
"There used to be an old rock out on this side of the cemetery at
Henrietta up on
that mound - somebody has rolled it off with a bulldozer now. Grandma
told how they
took this horse thief out to this rock and hanged him - how he sat on
his coffin on
the wagon on the way out there and smoked a cigar."
The following was copied from a paper in the possession of Buster
Zachry when he
narrated the above. It was written by Arthur Slagle in 1961 as Henry
Zachry told it
to him.
"Henry Zachry states that he was in the Oklahoma drawing for land during
the summer
of 1901 at the Fort Sill government post north of the present town of
Lawton. Two
drawings were held, one for land to the north of about 60,00 acres, the
other south
for about that number of acres. He went to Fort Sill and registered.
Each man was
allowed 160 acres, provided he owned no other land. Zachry drew 160 acres
just north
of Red River near the present highway bridge to Waurika, straight east
of the old
Stine house in Texas.
"He and several others camped near Fort Sill. The party consisted of
Harry Brandt,
Albert Butler, Whaley, Hugh Callaway, Arthur Thompson. Two out of the
bunch drew
land. Henry Zachry had number 5360 and Hugh Callawy drew 160 acres.
Zachry filed in
September and then went on to the land. He had to live there 14 months. He
lived in a
half-dugout for the allotted time. He finally sold the 160 acres after
five years to
his brother, J.S. Zachry."
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