Monday, July 24, 2017

A Few Old West Tidbits

  • ·         The Santa Fe Trail came close, but never actually made it to Santa Fe, New Mexico.

  • ·         An estimated 350,000 people traveled the Oregon Trail. One in seventeen did not make it to Oregon. The most common cause of death was cholera.

  • ·         As partial compensation for his lost territory, in 1905 the United States Government gave Geronimo a Cadillac.

  • ·         The first gold rush wasn’t to California in 1849, but to New Mexico in 1832.

  • ·         After committing a robbery, Charles E. Bolton would leave a note signed “Black Bart”. He was almost sixty when he started robbing stages. 

  • ·         Wyatt Earp was arrested for horse theft in Arkansas, and he and his brother Morgan were arrested for running ‘bordellos’ in Chicago before they made their way west. Though proclaimed to be a Buffalo Hunter, Earp never shot a buffalo, he did drive a wagon on a hunt once.

  • ·         Clay Allen pulled out a dentist’s teeth after that dentist had pulled one of Clay’s—the wrong one.

  • ·         The Dalton Gang met their fate in Kansas in 1892 when they attempted to rob two banks at the same time.

  • ·         Billy the Kid was also known a Billy Bonney, Henry McCarty, and Henry Antrim.

  • ·         Jesse James’s nickname to his close friends was Dingus.

  • ·         Cole Younger, who rode with Jesse James, after serving over 20 years in prison, got a job selling tombstones when he got out.

  • ·         Ben Kilpatrick, one of Butch Cassidy’s Wild Bunch known as the “Tall Texan”, loved riding bikes and only ever ordered ham and beans to eat because he couldn’t read.

  • ·         It’s said Mail Order Brides did more in taming the west than any law or lawman.

On that note…My next book is another mail order bride story in the Mail Order Brides of Oak Grove series. Winning the Mail Order Bride will be released in print on August 24th and ebook on September 1st

She was promised to another… 
When widow Fiona Goldberg and her two adorable sons arrive in Oak Grove, Kansas, proclaimed bachelor Brett Blackwell is instantly captivated. But when he learns she is promised to the mayor, he tries his best to keep his distance…

Out of desperation, Fiona had agreed to become a mail-order bride to the disagreeable, self-important mayor. But something about her neighbor Brett makes her feel safe. She knows she must fight her growing feelings for the forbidden blacksmith, even while longing for him to rescue her and take her as his bride himself!

Saturday, July 22, 2017


By: Celia Yeary
"Her name was Katherine."

I am fortunate enough to have a group of long-time friends—girlfriends, if you want to call them that. But we’re not girls anymore. Our relationship goes all the way back to the early seventies, when most of us began teaching at a wonderful Christian/Military boarding school in Central Texas. Since then, we’ve added one friend here, one there, none of us ever knowing how this person became "one of us." Once every six weeks or so, we have A Gathering, as we call our meetings.

The conglomeration of women constitutes as many different personalities as the number of members. We're all different; yet, all have and hold one firm purpose in common—to love and support each other with undying friendship. An odd thing, though—none of us becomes angry with any other. Oh, yes, we discuss, argue, and laugh with great emotion and passion, but even so, our love always comes through. We share a thousand stories, maybe more, memories from years past that cause us to laugh, and sometimes, cry.

We lost one of our friends years ago, but we all remember her as if she sat right there with us, laughing in her robust way, until tears ran down her cheeks.
Her name was Katherine.

This woman acted as counselor and best friend to each of us, but as far as I know, she never asked for nor needed counsel from any of us—not even from other faculty members. I’ve often wondered about that. She had the blessed ability and God-given talent to make each person believe, “I am her best friend.” She was a listener, and when you talked, she gave her complete undivided attention.

A few years ago, our group held a gathering at a member’s home. We brought our covered dishes, presents for the two who had birthdays that month, recent photos of our grandchildren or latest trip, and stories to tell.

One member brought a box. At the end of the evening, she stood and placed it in the middle of the dining table. She told us it held some of Katherine’s knick-knacks that no family member wanted. Previously, they had selected treasured items and had taken them home. But here was a small cardboard box filled with a few assorted useless items. She invited us to choose something as a remembrance.

An item caught my eye. A small book, 4 by 6 inches, a green hardback covered in a linen-like material, the edges outlined in gold, an ivory cameo outlined in gold centered on the cover. The title:

Published by Scribner's
A Cameo Edition-1900
(1st Printing-1850)
(Inside, the presenter had written, to Katherine, with love-1989)

Goosebumps skittered over my arms. You see, I own an identical book, differing only in the title and text. I bought mine several years ago in an antique bookshop somewhere in Kentucky for two dollars.

My title: Reveries of a Bachelor
Published by Scribner's
A Cameo Edition-1893
(1st Printing-1863)

To a skeptic, this probably means nothing. But there’s more to the story. Katherine owned this book long before I bought mine, but she did not buy it. A mutual friend, a lovely lady who once owned an antique shop herself, gave it to her in 1989. I had never seen this book.

So, the three of us share the odd connection of the twin books and a wonderful, longtime friendship. Now, both books are in my care, holding a prominent place on a shelf, as if they symbolize the unbreakable bond of friendship.    

How odd, how mysterious that I walked into an antique book shop six states away, in a small town off the interstate where we pulled off to explore, and among the many antique stores, I chose the one which had this book for sale, among thousands of others, stuck in a dark corner, on a lower shelf where I barely saw it.

You tell me the meaning of this coincidence. And don’t burst my little bubble of happiness.

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
My Blog
Sweethearts of the West-Blog
My Facebook Page 

Thursday, July 20, 2017

Lucius Beebe & The American West

Before introducing the topic of my post, I'm excited to tell you my new book, BEGUILING DELILAH, is now available on Amazon. At last! 
US Amazon     UK Amazon    CA: Amazon    AU: Amazon
FREE on Kindle Unlimited

Now, about Lucius Morris Beebe: (December 9, 1902 – February 4, 1966) Beebe was an American author, gourmet, photographer, railroad historian, journalist, and syndicated columnist.

Lucius Beebe (R) and partner Charles Clegg; back jacket photo - Steamcars To The Comstock

Born in Wakefield, Massachusetts to a prominent Boston family, Beebe attended both Harvard and Yale, where he contributed to the humorous magazine The Yale Record. He was known for pulling pranks, including an attempt to decorate J. P. Morgan’s yacht with toilet paper dropped from a chartered airplane. Consequently, he proudly had the sole distinction of being expelled from both Harvard and Yale. Eventually, he did earn his undergraduate degree from Harvard in 1926, only to be expelled during graduate school.
As a young man, Beebe published several books of poetry, but soon turned to journalism. He worked as a journalist for well-known newspapers in New York, Boston and San Francisco, and was a contributing writer to many magazines.
Beebe wrote a syndicated column for the New York Herald Tribune from the 1930s through 1944 called This New York. The column chronicled the doings of fashionable society, of which he was a notable part, at famous restaurants and nightclubs. He came up with the term “café society” to describe the people in his column.
Beebe in the West
In 1950, Beebe and his long-time life partner, photographer Charles Clegg, moved to Virginia City, Nevada, somewhat of a mecca at that time for writers. Beebe and Clegg purchased and restored the Piper family home.
Piper-Beebe House; Creative Commons; Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported
Later, the pair purchased the dormant Territorial Enterprise newspaper, relaunching it in 1952. By 1954 the paper had the highest circulation in the West for a weekly newspaper. Beebe and Clegg co-wrote the "That Was the West" series of historical essays for the newspaper.
In 1960, Beebe began writing a syndicated column titled This Wild West for the San Francisco Chronicle. In addition to being a journalist, Beebe wrote over 35 books. His books dealt primarily with railroading and café society. Charles Clegg helped write many of his railroad books.

The pair also authored The American West: The Pictorial Epic of a Continent, first published in 1955 by Dutton Publishing. I own a 1989 hardcover edition published by Bonanza Books. I love it mainly for the plethora of wonderful illustrations. I wish I could share a few of them with you but don’t want to infringe on copyrights. The book is available used on Amazon. I highly recommend it.

Amazon description:
This truly magnificent book recreates with a wealth of rare pictures and vivid authoritative text the tremendous epic of the American West. As sweeping, spirited and many-sided as its subject, the book portrays the Old West in all its variety, from the days of the first pioneers to the final passing of the frontier. Includes more than 1000 illustrations.”

Reviews: There are only 2, but one is by our own Caroline Clemmons. Both give 5 stars.

By Bob G. on January 27, 2011

“. . .This is an absolute essential piece for your bookshelf if you are an aficionado of US History, particularly the classic era of the Western Frontier. What's most notable about this large volume, with over 500 pages, is the numerous illustrations (over 1000!) that will guarantee hours of your enjoyment. . .

“Worth the visual enjoyment alone, The American West: The Pictorial Epic of a Continent is written in an engaging style of colorful narration not seen in today's academic tomes. Much like the newspapers of the day, the authors Beebe & Clegg make fine use of the English language and deliver humor and excitement in their accounts.

“From the mountain men to the closing of the frontier, the whole story is presented as an illustrated summary that is always fun to pick up and refer to over and over again. A definite keeper!”

By Caroline Clemmons on November 11, 2014

“I bought this book after a friend mentioned it. It's a large book filled with illustrations and old photos to illustrate the text. Very useful for research.”

 Lyn Horner is a multi-published, award-winning author of western historical romance and romantic suspense novels, all spiced with paranormal elements. She is a former fashion illustrator and art instructor who resides in Fort Worth, Texas – “Where the West Begins” - with her husband and a gaggle of very spoiled cats. As well as crafting passionate love stories, Lyn enjoys reading, gardening, visiting with family and friends, and cuddling her furry, four-legged children.

Find Lyn’s books on her Amazon Author Page:

Sign up for Lyn’s Romance Gazette:

Follow Lyn on these sites:  Lyn Horner’s Corner   Facebook   Twitter   Goodreads   

Tuesday, July 18, 2017



While digging into research for my WIP (tentatively titled ONLY IN MY DREAMS), a friend of mine who is part Cherokee and practices Native American traditions recommended that I read about Fools Crow, a Lakota Shaman. She loaned me her book FOOLS CROW, WISDOM AND POWER written by Thomas E. Mails. I am so impressed by this Lakota Shaman, his philosophy, thoughts, and deeds, I decided to write my Sweethearts of the West blog about him.

Frank Fools Crow, a Lakota Medicine Man, was born in 1891 in Kyle, South Dakota near Porcupine Creek on Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota on either June 24 or 27 between 1890 and 1892. Just a note here: I named my lead character Kyle (who is working to become a shaman) in my WIP before I read Frank Fools Crow was born in Kyle, South Dakota. An amazing coincidence. Just sayin’…

His father, also named Fools Crow, but often called Eagle Bear, was the Porcupine District leader. Spoon Hunter, Fools Crow’s mother, died four days after giving birth to him. She was the daughter of Porcupine Tail, for whom the community was named. Knife Chief, his paternal grandfather,  fought with warriors who defeated Custer at the Battle of Little Big Horn, and his great–grandfather, Holds the Eagle, was a medicine man and holy man, or Wičháša Wakȟáŋ. His father, aunt, and stepmother, Emily Big Road, raised him in the traditional ways. Fools Crow did not attend "the white man's school" because his father did not approve, and, therefore, he did not speak fluent English.

Fools Crow Speaks of the spiritual Cleansing in the book FOOLS CROW Wisdom And Power by Thomas E. Mails

In his younger years, Fools Crow traveled around the United States with the Buffalo Bill Cody's Buffalo Bill's Wild West show. But for most of his life, he served his people as a medicine man, healer, and teacher. It surprises me when I see the Native Americans who participated in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show. I just thought they wouldn’t want to be a part of a show that may not be a true portrayal of them.

I was surprised to find he had married. Maybe I just didn't consider marriage for a Medicine Man, sort of like being a Catholic priest. Fools Crow’s first wife, Fannie Afraid of Hawk, died in 1954. His second wife, Kate, died in October 1988.

He was a greatly respected Oglala Lakota civic and religious leader often called 'Grandfather' or 'Grandpa Frank' and was a nephew of Black Elk, also a famous Shaman. Fools Crow worked to preserve Lakota traditions, including the Sun Dance and yuwipi ceremonies. I particularly liked that he supported Lakota sovereignty and treaty rights, and was a leader of the traditional faction during the armed standoff at Wounded Knee in February 1973.

Fools Crow leading his people at Wounded Knee 

The standoff at Wounded Knee lasted 71 days until an agreement was reached between federal officials and a Lakota delegation, which included Fools Crow. Hank Adams, the personal representative of the President, arrived with an agreement to the proposal that the chiefs had sent to the White House on May 3. Adams handed a letter through a barbed–wire fence to Fools Crow. The letter asked for the occupation of the village to come to an end. Fools Crow and the other leaders accepted the proposal, which stated that the White House would send representatives to Pine Ridge to discuss a treaty in the third week of May and would “get tough” on Dick Wilson, the unscrupulous chairman of the reservation, a heavy drinker who encouraged harassment of traditional ceremonies and selling Lakota lands for which he profited. Fools Crow and the other chiefs delivered the letter to the AIM leaders and told them that he believed that it was time to end it.

Fools Crow spoke at a congressional hearing on June 16 and 17, 1973, following the conclusion of the Wounded Knee occupation. As was his way, he only spoke in Lakota and used an interpreter, Matthew King, to translate for him. He gave his reasons for the occupation, the main reason being the removal of Dick Wilson. Senator George McGovern said that he would try to remove Wilson, but was not sure if he had the power to do so. Fools Crow asserted that McGovern had promised earlier to remove Dick Wilson, yet the violence continued. Lakota people were killed in gunfire including children. The fatalities saddened everyone and convinced Grandpa Fools Crow and the other elders that there had been enough death. “Since we were too few to fight and too many to die”, Fools Crow asked the Wounded Knee leaders to try to find a peaceful resolution.

Promises were made by the government to the Lakota, but history has repeated itself because, once again, the government of the United States of America lied and those promises were not kept.

Though his courageous fight for his people show his character, this is not the reason why I have come to admire Fools Crow; it is his spirit and noble quest to do what is right as well as keep the traditions of the Lakota alive that make me think so highly of him.

Here is an example of his spiritual devotion when he spoke (in Lakota) the opening prayer to the United States Senate in Washington, D.C. on September 5, 1975 to discuss the 1868 Treaty, sovereignty, and the continuing violence and civil rights violations.
Fools Crow’s translated Prayer:

“In the presence of this house, Grandfather, Wakan-Tanka, and from the direction where the sun sets, and from the direction of cleansing power, and from the direction of the rising, and from the direction of the middle of the day. Grandfather, Wakan-Tanka, Grandmother, the Earth who hears everything, Grandmother, because you are woman, for this reason you are kind, I come to you this day to tell you to love the red men, and watch over them, and give these young men the understanding because, Grandmother, from you comes the good things, good things that are beyond our eyes to see have been blessed in our midst, for this reason I make my supplication known to you again.

Give us a blessing so that our words and actions be one in unity, and that we be able to listen to each other, in so doing, we shall with good heart walk hand in hand to face the future.

In the presence of the outside, we are thankful for many blessings. I make my prayer for all people, the children, the women and the men. I pray that no harm will come to them, and that on the great island, there be no war, that there be no ill feelings among us. From this day on may we walk hand in hand. So be it.”

Unfortunately, during the same morning as this prayer, the FBI staged a massive paramilitary raid on the property of Leonard Crow Dog, who said "We shall never sell our sacred Black Hills."

On September 10, 1976, Fools Crow delivered a lengthy speech to the Congressional Subcommittee on Interior and Insular Affairs. The speech, entitled the Joint Statement of Chief Frank Fools Crow and Frank Kills Enemy on Behalf of the Traditional Lakota Treaty Council Before Honorable Lloyd Meads Sub–Committee on Interior and Insular Affairs, was a plea for the return of the Black Hills to his people. Later, the speech was printed up in poster form and widely disseminated over the reservations.

Even in recent events the government has attempted to betray the Lakota by trying to permit an fracked oil pipeline to run through the sovereign lands of the Lakota in South Dakota.

For all the betrayal, the lies, and the violence visited upon Fools Crow and his people, Frank Fools Crow has kept his kind and loving spirit.

Here is a short quote from Fools Crow’s speech at the end of Wounded Knee:

“Survival of the world depends on our sharing what we have, and working together. If we do not, the whole world will die, first the planet, and next the people.”

Fools Crow died on November 27, 1989 near Kyle, SD. He is believed to have been 99 years old. He spent his entire life in the service of his people and as an advocate for the traditional ways and wisdom of the Lakota.


With the help of writer Thomas E. Mails, he produced two books about his life and work titled: Fools Crow in 1979, and Fools Crow: Wisdom and Power in 1990.

The Wise Words of Frank Fools Crow

Sarah J. McNeal is a multi-published author of several genres including time travel, paranormal, western and historical fiction. She is a retired ER and Critical Care nurse who lives in North Carolina with her four-legged children, Lily, the Golden Retriever and Liberty, the cat. Besides her devotion to writing, she also has a great love of music and plays several instruments including violin, bagpipes, guitar and harmonica. Her books and short stories may be found at Prairie Rose Publications and its imprints Painted Pony Books, and Fire Star Press. She welcomes you to her website and social media:

References, books, and quotes for this article:

Fools Crow, University of Nebraska Press, 1979, 1990  ISBN 978-0-8032-8174-5

Fools Crow: Wisdom and Power, Council Oak Books, 1990, 2002;  ISBN 978-1-57178-104-8

Anderson et al., Voices from Wounded Knee 1973 (Akwesasne Notes, 1974) ISBN 978-0-914-83801-2

Ward Churchill and Jim Vander Wall, Agents of Repression (South End Press, 1988,'02) ISBN 0-89608-646-1

Thomas E. Mails, Fools Crow (University of Nebraska Press, 1979,'90) ISBN 978-0-8032-8174-5

Peter Matthiessen, In the Spirit of Crazy Horse (Viking Penguin, 1983,'92) ISBN 978-014014456-7

Russell Means, Where White Men Fear to Tread (St. Martin's Press, 1995) ISBN 978-031214761-7

New York Times Obituary, "Frank Fools Crow, a Sioux Tribal Leader", printed 29 November 1989  *

Paul Chaat Smith and Robert Allen Warrior, Like a Hurricane: The Indian Movement from Alcatraz to Wounded Knee (The New Press, 1997) ISBN 978-1-56584-402-5

Luther Standing Bear, Land of the Spotted Eagle (Houghton Mifflin Company, 1933) ISBN 978-0-8032-9333-5

Steve Talbot, Roots of Oppression: The American Indian Question (International Publishers, 1981) ISBN 978-071780591-4

Sunday, July 16, 2017

The Story behind the Immigrant's Journey by Linda Hubalek

Kajsa and Julia Runneberg- 1886
When researching the history of our family farm for my book, Butter in the Well, I found stories written down by Julia Olson that her mother—Kajsa Runneberg—had told her about their homesteading days. Julia was our neighbor to the north, and was like a grandmother to me.

She was born in 1884 and grew up on same farm as I did, in the 1950s. Julia moved to the next homestead when she married the neighbor boy Joe in 1911, and died when I was in high school in the early 1970s. (Julia gave me two old quilts that I'll guess were made in the house we both grew up in.)

Here’s the story of Julia's mother's journey to Kansas, that I wrote in a diary form, as if in Kajsa’s own words.

"March 7, 1868

Ellsworth, Kansas — I want to keep a journal of our adventure into the American Plains so I will have an account of what our first years were like.
In spring of '67 we traveled from Klevmarken, Sweden, to New York City, America, by ship, then by train to Jacksonville, Illinois. Now a year later, we're back on a train heading for the open prairies of Kansas.

We traveled from Jacksonville to St. Louis first. In Illinois we saw meadows of grass, wooded areas and towns. The scenery was much the same until we got past Kansas City. Then there were very few trees and the prairie grass stretched as far as the eye could see. The few towns we've gone through were very small and new. The farther west, the sparser it has gotten. I've heard Kansas called "the Great American Desert," but everything looks green. Of course it's spring now. Maybe the whole countryside dries up in the summer.

We were to get off at the town of Salina, in Saline County. Our friends in Jacksonville put destination tags on us and our belongings since we don't know much of the American language yet. Most people in Jacksonville were Swedish, so got along fine. Carl knows a few American words, since he had to work and did the shopping when we lived there.

The ride has been wearing on us. This morning Carl looked like he didn't feel good. The motion of the train car bouncing on the track and smoke from the engine's smokestack has made us all a little sick.
I was trying to watch the railroad station signs at each stop, but they were not always in sight. Each time Carl tried to find the conductor, to see if that was the place we were to get off. Instead of trying to ask, it was easier to point to his name tag.

At the last stop Carl rushed up to me and said: "Gather up our things and Christina! We've got to get off. This is Ellsworth. We missed Salina!"

I panicked when I realized we missed our stop. But, I knew Carl would figure out a way to get us back on the track to our destination. We have found overnight lodging and we will travel back to Salina tomorrow.

This was an extra expense we didn't need. 
 March 30, 1868

Carl came down with the fever and chills of ague that night here in Ellsworth. Thank the Lord he is finally getting over it. It could have been worse. I could have become a widow with a 15-month-old baby in a strange American town.

We've been at the Railroad Hotel for over three weeks. I've had to help the cook prepare and serve the meals in exchange for room and board for our small family. We were to find a innkeeper so kind.
Tomorrow we'll get back on the train heading for Salina. This time we will get off at the right town.”  

(Excerpts from Butter in the Well © by Linda K. Hubalek)

I find these stories fascinating, although Kajsa must have been in a real panic when it happened. We’re so connected with cell phone these days and can get help almost immediately. But think how the early immigrants in the 1800s had to rely on themselves or the help of strangers.

If you see someone that could use some help today, think of Kajsa, and reach out a hand. No matter what century, everyone appreciates help…

Many thanks from the Kansas prairie...
Linda Hubalek

Friday, July 14, 2017

Clothing on the Prairie in the Nineteenth Century

As families traveled West in covered wagons, women brought their current fashions with them safely stored in trunks. Thus women's clothing on the prairie varied with styles from the East and Europe blending with those of pioneer women. Dresses were out-of-style and made over to try to stay current with the trends seen in magazines and fashion plates.
Material was scarce so no scrap was wasted. Thus the patchwork quilt that is so much a part of our American heritage. When the seat of a skirt became shiny with wear, the panel was removed or turned so that the shiny surface wouldn't be so obvious. Or, when worn beyond repair, remnants were removed to make clothing for the children.

The image above is of my great-great grandmother, Lavinia Ann, born December 15, 1853. Lavinia's mother, Tennessee Caledonia, was full blood Cherokee. I love the name and plan to use it in a story one day soon. The dress Lavinia is wearing looks to be black serge which was popular and serviceable at the time. I imagine it was very hot. It would have been worn to church, funerals, and on special occasions.
During 1840-65 when skirts were full, it took ten yards of the wider bolt calico fabric or fourteen yards of silk to make a dress. That was a lot of fabric so women were lucky if they got two new dresses a year. They were reserved for special occasions and the old ones relegated to everyday use.

In the early 1850's bloomers, called knickerbockers by some were worn by a few, mostly women traveling. The bloomers reached just to the top of the boots and a knee length skirt was worn over them. For women with active lives on the prairie, they were useful attire but the style didn't hang around long. Split or riding skirts did, however.
Mother Hubbard dresses were popular in the 1880s. They had rounded or fitted necklines with flowing skirts that caught in the breeze scaring horses and mules causing them to bolt. Men insisted while in town women wear belts to hold them in at the waist.
This picture is of my grandmother, Martha Comfort Pyburn Riley. She was in her thirties when she left Tennessee to visit cousins in Texas. There she met my grandfather, fell in love with his young son, and married Grandpa to give my uncle a mother. My mother, one of the middle children, was born in 1923 so I assume this photo was taken in the early 1900s. This was probably her one good dress.

Until around the 1840s foodstuffs, as well as animal feed, were packed in boxes, barrels, and crates which made it hard for a farmer without a wagon to get from the store to home. When the sewing machine was invented, double lock stitching made it possible to sew fabric secure enough to keep from spilling. Bags of flour, feed, etc. could be loaded on a horse.

The first feed sacks were made of heavy white canvas printed with the name of the flour or other product. The farmer could bring empty bags back to be refilled. When mills in America began producing inexpensive cotton fabrics in the later 1800s, these cheaper fabrics were used.

Not as durable, they weren’t refillable so women used them for quilt pieces and to make dish towels, curtains, pillowcases, sheets, and other items for the home. The manufacturer’s name was stamped on the sack in vegetable dye so the homemaker could remove it, often a difficult chore, and return it to pristine whiteness. Humorous stories about garments made with the stamp remaining abound.

Starting in the 1920s, feed companies in an effort to help those suffering during the depression, started storing feed, seeds, and grain in recyclable print fabric. Grandma Riley saved the sacks that chicken feed came in and used them to make her clothes. Since the print was different on each bag, the lengths were saved until there was enough matching material to make a dress. She also gave them to her granddaughters and nothing made me prouder than to wear a feed sack dress. Back then flour sacks made dish towels, were used to strain milk, and cover food to keep off the flies. Our ancestors knew how to avoid waste.

This was my very favorite feed sack dress. It was floral in green yellow and orange. Of course it had to be starched and ironed and I wore an Alice Lon petticoat with it. My Aunt Jewell made all of my clothes, including the petticoats, and I loved everyone.

Thank you for stopping by. Did you wear any feed sack clothes? If so, share which were your favorites.

Happy Reading and Writing!