RED HEAD: HER STORY

RED HEAD: HER STORYAuthor(s): Sophie Whipple RootSource: Arizoniana, Vol. 2, No. 4 (WINTER 1961), pp. 23-28Published by: Arizona Historical SocietyStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/41700822 .

Accessed: 15/06/2014 06:57

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

.

Arizona Historical Society is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Arizoniana.

http://www.jstor.org

This content downloaded from 91.229.229.205 on Sun, 15 Jun 2014 06:57:41 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=azhs

http://www.jstor.org/stable/41700822?origin=JSTOR-pdf

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp


RED HEAD: HER STORY

By Sophie Whipple Root

(A Reminiscence taken from the Historical Society Archives)

To My Little Nieces and Nephews.

My dear children:

You seem to have enjoyed my stories of the little red-headed girl, and have asked me so many questions - "Were they real Indians?" - "Did you see a real, live Indian Chief?" - "Did you really wade across the great wide Colorado River?" - "Can I see the big arrows they shot at you?" - Because of these questions and many more I thought I would write you a little story about those days. You can read them for yourselves and tell them to other little girls and boys who never saw real Indians, never heard their war cries nor saw their wild dances. To you, my beloved nieces and nephews, these stories of the old west are given in love.

This Indian story of the Indians I am about to tell happened in the far, far West - The Arizona Territory - many years ago. It begins, however, with the wedding of your beautiful grandmother, Georgia Ella Harriman. She was born in Baltimore, Maryland, the youngest daughter of Joab and Hannah Brown Harriman. She was a delicate little girl and much younger than her three brothers and sister. As a child she took music lessons, learn- ing to play the piano very well and developing a high, clear soprano voice. She was sent to a private school run by a Miss Albertine Luisa van de Moulin Tank. Grandmother said she especially liked "countries", and I think that must have been her geography studies influence. Because she often had serious colds, and being naturally frail and the baby of the family, she did not go to a higher school. Later she was taught at home by a private teacher, Miss Nellie

Webb, who became my godmother. It was said of grandmother that she wrote a very pretty hand and was a "good speller".

Your grandmother was a very pretty "well-mannered" young girl, a favorite, both because of her per- sonality and her musical talents; and she had many admirers among the young men. There was one favorite, Herbert Lord of New York State; and although they were considered too young to be engaged, there was an understanding among both families that they would some day be married.

In 1861 came the "War of the States"; and Herbert volunteered as a member of the Northern Army, leaving a tear-worn lonely girl to await his return. When he came back with the triumphant army, he was in poor health. The war brought on a serious lung trouble that was to plague him for the rest of his life.

After much deliberation the members of both families decided that Herbert should go to Arizona. There the climate greatly favored throat and lung trouble. He was to spend a year with his Uncle, Charles Lord who, with his partner, Mr. Williams, had opened a large store in Tucson, Ari- zona.

Herbert left his sweetheart, Georgia, and went West. There he rested and relaxed in the glorious climate of Ari- zona. He went to work as a civilian Army employe [sic] for Lord & Williams. His job was to contact the various Army camps, to take orders, and to see that goods were properly delivered. At the end of a year, Her- bert's lung trouble had entirely dis-

[23]



24 ARIZONIANA

appeared, and he went back to Balti- more to claim his bride. The return of the wanderer in restored health, and the recital of his experiences in Arizona, made him quite a personage. Because of his experience and family position, many opportunities were of- fered him to remain in Baltimore, but the far West had awakened within him an urge for a life in the new country. Herbert Lord's principal thought was to claim Georgia H arri- man as his bride and return with her to Tucson. There had been the waiting of the long war years, and the added time Herbert had spent recup- erating in Arizona. It seemed almost too much to ask the young couple to wait any longer.

Finally the great day came! The wedding was to take place at ten o'- clock in the parlor of the narrow, long, three-story Baltimore house on Eutaw Street. The bride and groom stood before a bay window. The very high windows were curtained with white Nottingham lace with large figures. Green rep [A fabric of silk or wool or both, having a corded or ribbed surface] hangings fell from heavy gold cornices. A small stand held a towering vase of white flowers, and the white marble mantel was likewise banked with white. The bride wore a white Swiss organdie; billowy skirt, high neck and long sleeves - a dainty dress. Your grandmother did not wear a veil, but in- stead she wore a wreath of little white flowers in her hair. The young people looked very young and intensely serious.

As her father stepped forward to give his daughter to her future husband, his voice broke, and many eyes filled with tears. AH knew what his youngest daughter meant to him - the delight of his later years. The short ceremony was soon over and, amid gaiety and good wishes, all sat

down to an elaborate dinner served in what was called the "study". It was across the hall, a room larger than the dining room and separated from the parlor by heavy folding doors. Champagne was served and, after toasts were drunk, a large bottle of champagne was given to the bride and groom to open when they first moved into the new home in the wilderness of far-off Arizona.

As soon as she could get away the bride slipped upstairs to her own little room to change into a traveling dress - a small blue and white checked alpaca, bound in red cord; a light hat with cherries; a dolman coat; and her first pair of long black gloves. The young people were to follow the traditional custom of going to visit relatives on both sides of the family who could not come to the wedding. So to the south as far as Charleston, South Carolina, and as far west as Eau Claire, Wisconsin, they went.

Finally, after several weeks of vis- iting, they arrived by rail in San Francisco and sailed on a small steamer to San Diego. The Nye family, their cousins in San Diego, enter- tained them.

When the young couple arrived in San Diego, they found some of their belongings already there - one huge barrel of their china and glassware and a big trunk of clothes. In the trunk were the clothes they were to wear the rest of the trip. They had planned to leave the wedding dress, the "party clothes" and those the bride had used on the trip across the continent, in the big trunk that was to follow later. This plan could never be carried out, as it was impossible to transport any such amount of baggage across the dangerous Indian country. Later, only the boxes with kitchen utensils, linens, and books were delivered to them in Arizona.



ARIZONIANA 25

Drastic cuts had to be made. The chinaware remained in San Diego and the clothing was repacked in the trunks. It was difficult to make decisions. On [sic] dress the bride in- sisted on taking with her was her wedding dress.

The trip across the desert was un- eventful, but the ride was a long and tiring one. They were met at Tucson by the Lord family and other friends. After dinner they begged to go to their new home. Herbert had arranged for the place before he left, and the Lords' had sent in some necessary furnishings.

The evening was warm and balmy, a brilliant after-sunset glow bright- ened the heavens as they came to their little home. A heavy wooden gate opened into a sun-baked circu- lar lot. Stepping stones led to the front door, and dozens of little lizards slithered away as they walked in.

The friends who accompanied them left them at the gate. Herbert opened the wooden door, grasped his bride, and carried her over the wide thresh- old and stood in the center of the low, small room. She looked around. Broad sills indicated openings, but there was no glass in the windows. The floor of hard-packed clay was covered by bright rugs, and a long wooden table and several chairs completed the furnishings. Beyond was a small bed- room with two army cots, some rugs and a drape over the window. At the other side was a door, and that opened into a lean-to kitchen with a fireplace but no stove - no running water - no bathroom - no - but the bride turned to her young husband, who was looking at her with a worried, anxious look. She must not let him see her dismay. So they sat down on one of the Army cots and began to plan.

But where and how to cook and what to eat? Herbert had arranged

for a Mexican woman to come in the morning to help. Meanwhile a good nighťs rest would be a great help. In the morning Herbert was up early making a fire in the small, but effi- ciently arranged fireplace. Pans were filled with water, and coffee - with- out cream - boiled eggs, and hard- tack comprised their breakfast. Soon after, Herbert left and the little bride surveyed her domain with mingled feelings. A swift flood of tears cleared the atmopshere, and by the time Jus- tina, the Mexican woman, and Mrs. Lord arrived together, all was well in hand.

A few days later, the box of books arrived, and it was with great joy she found five cook books, some with favorite recipes. One, an English edi- tion, opened with a chapter on "How the New Bride Must Train Her Ser- vants."

Eating was made easier by going to the Lords' and other friends and Jus- tina for help with the frijoles and tamales - but it was a hard struggle. Then, joy of joys, she received a stove! The first in town. A small, four-plate, cast-iron stove with fancy legs and an oven - a small one, but a real oven. Excitement of the arrival spread, and the bride was kept busy showing it off. In the meantime, she had found some kitchen things in the boxes as she opened them. She had no rolling pin, but used with good effect the big bottle of her wedding champagne, which they had not received in time to enjoy when they made their home-coming.

During the first weeks of the new life, many people called on her - partly for reasons of curiosity, but many to welcome the beautiful señora. Among these were four of the older men of the community who knew her husband well and understood the loneliness Mrs. Lord must have felt in this entirely new land.



26 ARIZONIANA

They were the Governor, A. K. P. Saf- ford; a banker, Mr. T. E. Jewell; the newspaper publisher, Mr. A. Wasson; and the Commandant of the Troops in the Territory, Captain Stephen C. Whipple (U. S. Cavalry). They constituted themselves her "Honor Guard", and did much to cheer and encourage the young woman. Great rejoicing followed the advent of the new stove. It had to be examined and admired. Soon after its arrival, Governor Safford called on Mrs. Lord and asked her to do him a favor. She said she would be happy to do so. He told her that he was going to have a big wild turkey sent to him and asked her if she would roast it in the new oven and preside over the dinner. Grandmother had never cooked a turkey, but immediately started to study from her various cook books. The dinner was planned.

It was to be served outdoors for a number of friends of the Governor, a sort of stag party, with grandmother and Mrs. Charles Lord as the only women present. Justina was to help and her daughter Fecunda, now a regular maid in the family, was to serve the meal. The turkey arrived - a beauty; but to the dismay of everybody, it was too large for the small oven. After much deliberation and measurements, it was decided to cut off the legs and wings of the bird and barbecue them. In that way, the turkey itself could be just squeezed into the pan. A long table was set outside the tiny kitchen. Grand- mother was happy to use her long white linen tablecloth, initialed nap- kins, and a few pieces of silver and china she had been able to bring with her to Arizona. Dinner was served at four o'clock after the siesta, and several hours were spent in eating. Later, enjoying their conversation in the soft twilight, they little dreamed of the tragedy so soon to follow.

The next day Herbert left on a rou- tine trip to the various camps, and Georgia and her little maid Fecunda spent the time engaged in cleaning up after the party. The following day was very warm, and at early dusk Grandmother undressed and lay down to rest on a couch on the porch. Fecunda was seated on the steps. A noise at the outer gate startled them. Grandmother jumped up and ran towards the gate. Fecunda, fright- ened, begged her not to go but Grandmother went right on. As she neared the gate, she heard a low moan. She threw off the bolt and opened wide the gate. There stood her husband; and as she cried "Her- bert!" he fell into her arms. She and Fecunda helped him to the house, where he dropped onto the couch she had just left; then she sent for help. A recurrence of the tuberculosis he had hoped would never return - a sudden hemorrhage, and he had made a desperate effort to get home. This was the beginning of his last illness. He never left the little adobe again. His heart-broken wife nursed him for long months, until he finally passed away in her arms. But he lived long enough to have the happiness of holding his baby daughter while he was still conscious, a few weeks before he slipped away.

The coming of this little red-headed baby girl, the first white child born in the territory of Arizona (July 21, 1872) had been cause for rejoicing to the young couple and their friends. And now the baby proved a great comfort to the young mother in her grief. She continued to live in the adobe with Fecunda as the baby's nurse, while Justina hovered over the little establishment.

There was no chance of the widow and her child returning to the eastern home. In those days travel was dangerous and difficult over the desert.



ARIZONIANA 27

Her brother Horace had come to San Francisco to get her, but on ar- riving there found even the trip to San Diego almost impossible due to crowded steamers, and not the slight- est chance of getting beyond San Diego. So he had to go back to his home and business, but knowing for the time being at least his sister and child were well and safe. Yet the young mother yearned for her home.

In the meantime, the Honor Guard had been busy, and as all were prom- inent men, wheels began to move. One day Captain Whipple, the Army Commander, came to see the young woman and brought her great news. He had been ordered to proceed to Washington, D.C., with a military detachment as far as San Diego. If Grandmother could get ready on short notice, he would take her and the baby to San Diego. There she would be left with relatives while waiting the arrival of her brother to take them home.

Gratefully, the mother accepted the offer. She did not know until long afterwards that the Governor and his friends had moved heaven and earth to have this trip made possible.

Great excitement prevailed! When the day came everyone aided and turned out to see the departure. It was quite a spectacle! A light wagon, one seat, the back filled with baggage and all the paraphernalia needed for the baby and mother for the long and dangerous trip ahead - across the desert through which savage groups of Apaches ranged. There was also in the caravan another light wagon that carried a doctor and his wife who were going to Yuma.

Amid tearful farewells, the little band marched away. At the head of the procession was a group of Indian Scouts followed by a squad of soldiers on horseback. Next came the foot soldiers. Following these was the

light wagon with Captain Whipple driving, Grandmother and your baby aunt in the seat, and soldiers sitting on packs in the rear. Besides the wagon, Indian Scouts and a soldier on each side of the wagon.

Imagine the set-up - a gallant bachelor Cavalry Officer, about 45, escorting a small baby and a beautiful young widowed mother on a trek across the dusty, hot, southwest desert. Whenever occasion seemed to demand that Miss Red Head be fed or otherwise attended to, the column halted, preferably in any shade if possible. Mother and child ascended after feeding and repairs were complete - on board again for the long, hot trip. Indians were seen, but not near enough for danger.

Grandmother had learned to shoot in the long days in Arizona. Before they left, Captain Whipple very quietlv handed grandmother a sm^ll pearl-handled revolver, remarking rather casually, "There's not a man in the group who wouldn't give his life for you or the baby, but if we should be ambushed, one shot for your baby, the other for yourself, rather than fall into the hands of the Indians - but I don't anticipate anything like that."

Nerves were on edge, water was scarce. But the baby, Miss Red Head, was happy and seemed to enjoy the ride, always smiling and ready to go to any of the men who would occa- sionally pick her up and give her a little change. Danger ever lurked near them. Several times the smoke of Indian fires had been seen and the route changed.

When we came to the Colorado River, which we had to ford as the long promised bridge was only par- t i a 1 1 y constructed, Grandmother's heart sank. All horses are afraid of these crossings, and should one stum- ble or fall it is very difficult to quiet the others. Also, the sands shift, so



28 ARIZONIANA

where once there were shallows, sand bars had formed. Naturally, I knew nothing of the crossing. My world was limited to my Mother's arms, with an occasional transfer for a few minutes to the army of my dear Cap- tain, the gold braid on whose cuffs caught my baby eyes. They said the first word I understood was "Go", and the brass on a soldier's uniform was an added attraction. Remember - I was only three months old and six- teen inches long.

Finally we arrived at San Diego and the home of our relatives. There was a warm welcome at the Nye home and many people were present who were interested in seeing the little baby who was born in the wild country of the Apaches. Many brought gifts; mostly baby things which otherwise I could not have had. One, a hand made dress, I still have.

Now, new decisions had to be made. Captain Whipple must proceed at once to Washington; first by tramp steamer to San Francisco, thence by the new railroad across the country. On his departure, he car-

ried letters to Mother's family in Bal- timore.

Later, Mother's brother, Horace Harriman, came to San Diego and took Mother and me back to the Bal- timore home.

And finally . . . Captain Whipple kept up a con-

stant correspondence with my mother after he came West again, where he took a post under General O. O. Howard who was at war with Indian Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce Tribe - a dangerous and powerful enemy. He soon became one of the finest of the Indian fighters of that day and was later brevetted for bravery in the capture of a small but important In- dian village with a small detachment of Cavalry troops.

He came back to Baltimore in 1874 and persuaded "us" to marry him - this in St. Charles Church in Balti- more in October 1875. So we three came West to Fort Walla Walla, Washington, thence to the Klamath country where Captain Whipple was in command of troops in the Klam- math Reservation in Northwest Oregon.

ARIZONIANA

every three months the Arizona Pioneers' Historical Society will issue this publication devoted to various aspects of Arizona history. The quarterly will contain reproductions of interesting documents, rare photographs, historical sketches, vignettes of Arizona pioneers and information on historical happenings about the state. Single subscriptions may be obtained for $5.00 per year, by non-members of this society. Christmas subscriptions as gifts are tax deductible.

<3ltt

Benjamin T. Cheek ( 1880-1961 ) Joseph T. Clark ( 1866-1961 ) Fred Ormai Goodell (1876-1961)

Arthur Blakemore Hulsey ( 1883-1961 ) Alvin S. McKelligon ( 1878-1961 )



Documents

RED HEAD: HER STORY