Cowboy Chic -- Folk art watercolor paintings

When my daughter Pamela was working on her Ph.D at MIT (during the early 1990s), we visited her in Boston and explored the famous mile-long Brimfield, Massachusetts, outdoor antique shows.  I found a wonderful old watercolor of a cowgirl on paper that was fragile and falling apart.  When I got home I copied it (above).  That jump-started my painting.  Over the next few years, I completed several simple watercolors.

When I bought my palomino--Sunup--in 1996, I did a series of imaginary family portraits while I toyed with the idea of writing a children's book.  The watercolor above is Sunup with his mother (a chestnut mare).

I imagined Sunup as a wild stallion (above), king of his Montana mustang herd.

This pen and ink with watercolor wash (above) was simply titled "Mustang Herd."

When we purchased Cash in 1997, I did a pen and ink with a watercolor wash of him.

When Joyce bought Zinger in 1999, I did a pen and ink with watercolor wash of him as well.  The piece is titled "Her Prince."

I rounded out the series with a portrait of Sunup with a bosel titled "Hackamore Colt."

Here's another early watercolor titled "Montana" painted in 1991.  I really should do some more of these :-)

Road trip -- White Sulphur Springs, Montana

I recently found a free ebook on the web that I had once seen priced at $10,000.   The extremely rare book is How the Buffalo Lost His Crown by John Beacom, published in 1894 by Forest and Stream.  More importantly, cowboy artist Charles M. Russell did all the illustrations.

In the mid-1990s during one of my trips to the Cody Old West Show, I took a foray to Billings, Montana, to visit a rare book and art dealer named Thomas Minckler.  He was a real gentleman and, though I'm sure he knew I didn't have the means, he brought out from his back room a pristine copy of How the Buffalo Lost His Crown and handed it to me to examine. I sure was impressed just holding such a rare, expensive book in my hands.  I'll bet that today the book would sell for a lot more.

Over the years I had managed to buy a few books from Mr. Minckler.  He knew I was a serious collector of good Montana literature, so he was more than willing to spend time visiting with me.  During one of our conversations I mentioned that I planned to drive up to Great Falls, Montana, to tour the C. M. Russell museum.

As I was about to leave his shop, he asked me if I'd even been to White Sulphur Springs.  When I said I hadn't,  he told me it would be a really pretty drive through the heart of Montana's Charlie Russell country. and was well worth seeing.  I always like taking back roads through historical places, so I dug out my map and plotted a course from Billings to White Sulphur Springs on the way to Great Falls.

US Highway 12, White Sulphur Springs, Montana

My route took me north on US 87 to Roundup, then west on US 12 through Ryegate and Harlowton to White Sulphur Springs.  There I turned north on US 89 and drove through the Lewis and Clark National Forest toward Neihart and Belt, and ultimately, to Great Falls.  Mr. Minckler had certainly not lead me astray.  The drive was every bit as pretty as he had said it would be.

US Highway 89, Lewis and Clark National Forest, Montana 

Since I was traveling in my motorhome, I figured I'd camp somewhere in the Lewis and Clark National Forest.  Most of the country I had seen was wide open cow country typical in Montana--good flat grassland occasionally punctuated with deep forested ravines called coulees.  It was getting late in the afternoon when I spotted a thick conifer-covered forest ahead.  As I rounded a curve and crossed a little creek, a young black bear sauntered across my path, as if to welcome me to his forest.  

A couple of short miles ahead I found a campground that was more or less a series of turnouts along US 89.  I pulled into one of them that had a narrow grove of trees separating a campsite from the main highway.  When I turned my motor off and started to prepare dinner, I learned there was a babbling brook behind the campsite.  After dinner while a little daylight still remained, I sat outside and read. 

While a gentle rain pattered on the roof of my motorhome that night, I dreamed about night-herding horses in 1880s Montana  :-)

Wild horses and the "Loneliest Road in America"

Exploring alternate routes between Wyoming and California made my many trips to antique and collectibles shows far more interesting.  I'm always trying to learn about the history of the West, so what could be more fun than traversing the Great Basin, following the original Pony Express trail.

I read that Life magazine dubbed the portion of US Highway 50 that runs across Nevada as the "Loneliest Road in America," adding that occasionally small herds of wild horses could be seen from the highway.  That was all the enticement I needed.  I had been toying with the idea of taking a wild horse tour offered by a group in Bishop, California, but finding a band of mustangs on my own would be even more fun.

I was on the way home from one of my best trips ever.  I had delivered a pair of bunk beds (above) to a client in Park City, Utah, on my way to Brian Lebel's Old West Show in Cody, Wyoming.  After the Cody show, I drove up to Red Lodge, Montana, to see the July 3rd rodeo held there. Then I returned to Cody for the big 4th of July stampede and rodeo.  I was feeling downright Western after all those events.  Now if I could find some wild horses and do a little gambling on the way home it would be a really grand finish.

From Salt Lake City, I took I-80 west toward Elko, Nevada.  I stopped and played craps at the state line in Wendover, Nevada, and won just enough to cover a tank of gas.  I continued to Wells, Nevada, turned south on US 93, and headed toward Ely, Nevada.  In Ely, I turned west on US 50--"Loneliest Road in America"--with the goal of making it to Carson City, Nevada, by nightfall.

I had covered most of US 50, and was beginning to think I'd never see any mustangs in all that sage brush and pinion pine-covered landscape.  Then I rounded a curve in the highway, and there the were.    

I pulled over to take some photos, and the herd stallion immediately became suspicious of my motives, and started moving his band further away from the highway.  He stopped several times to watch me before they finally disappeared over a distant ridge.  I was lucky to catch the photo above of the beautiful strawberry roan stallion watching me.

The Bureau of Land Management (BLM) estimates there are approximately 15,000 wild horses and 800 wild burros in hundreds of herds in Nevada.  That still doesn't make them easy to find :-)

Miles City, Montana -- Range Rider Museum

Back in the 1990s, I was a vendor at Brian Lebel's Old West Show in Cody, Wyoming.  Since Cody was a hard two-day drive from my home, I always allowed extra time for a few side adventures.  I almost always drove up to Billings, Montana, to haunt an antiques row located in the seedier part of the berg.  Occasionally I would discover a rare find there--like the Al Furstnow Miles City Saddlery enameled sign I purchased for $400 (and later sold for $800).

I had read about a modest museum in Miles City, Montana, about 2 hours east of Billings on I-94.  The Range Rider Museum was said to house a great collection of bits, spurs, and other cowboy trappings, all of which had been donated by local families who were part of the history of this early cowtown.

The easy drive from Billings turned out to be somewhat of an ordeal because it rained so hard that my Jeep Cherokee would hydroplane if I exceeded 40 mph.  About midway through the drive, the car in front of me hit one of two deer crossing the highway, forcing me to do some fancy driving to avoid the survivor. 

The museum wasn't as fancy as the Buffalo Bill Historical Center or the Autry National Center of the American West, yet it still had a nifty collection of cowboy memorabilia, including a fine collection of art (including some Charlie Russell), firearms, photographs, and native American artifacts.

After touring the museum, I headed to downtown Miles City to find a room.  I checked into an unassuming hotel, and asked about a place to eat.  I ended up a few doors down in a 100-year-old hotel  and proceeded to the bar for a before dinner drink.  In the mostly-empty bar, I asked the barmaid for a dinner recommendation.  She was very pleasant and engaged me in conversation from which she discovered I was from California, was a cowboy folk artist and furniture builder, and would be driving back to Cody in the morning.

She said she'd like to see my cowboy furniture, so I walked back to my room, returning with a photo album I always carried for just such opportunities.  I ordered dinner and a second drink, then noticed the bar was filling up with locals, and my photo album was working its way from table to table.

To make a long story short, the bartender told me that the other patrons were all county commissioners and had just concluded their monthly meeting.  Pretty soon, as a nod to their enjoyment of viewing my furniture,  I had several glasses of whiskey and water lined up in front of me.  

I drove back to Cody the next day.  I always will have fond memories of my visit to the cowtown of Miles City, Montana.

Cowboy Culture -- Getting back to my roots at Parada del Sol

In the early 1980s, I had been playing soccer for nearly a decade.  I was a licensed USSF coach and had escorted a club team to Germany the year before.  I also coached youth teams and played in a Sunday men's league.  Our "over-thirty" club had even toured England and Scotland (with our wives) a few years earlier.  We played other club teams there.  You might say I was a die-hard soccer fan,  whose life revolved around the "beautiful game" (as Pele had called it).  

One day a couple of new guys showed up at one of our Sunday games and asked if they could play.  We invited them to join us. It quickly became evident they were both really skilled players.  The next week those two fellows and two more of the their friends showed up.  The week after,  still more newcomers came to play.  Within a month, the two new guys and all their buddies had hijacked our club and taken over.  

By then, I had developed an intense dislike for the newcomers.  They were--let's just call them foreigners--so I reckon that makes me a xenophobe.  Anyhow,  I had had about all I could take of the newcomers, who no longer even bothered to communicate in English, so I took some time off and headed to Scottsdale, Arizona to go camping, horseback riding, and see a great rodeo. 

In the 1970s, I had been in Scottsdale on business and discovered  "Parada del Sol,"  a week-long festival that included the world’s largest horse drawn parade (on Scottsdale Road), five PRCA sanctioned rodeo performances, and the  rodeo dance and concert.

Old Town Scottsdale--with its Old West theme--is also a wonderful place to go shopping.  It's loaded with Western wear shops, art galleries, rare books stores, antique shops, and has a great museum to boot.  It became my habit (30 years ago) to go camping in the desert, then rent a horse to ride on the outskirts of Scottsdale, and finally I'd arrive in town to watch the parade and then attend the rodeo and concert.

So, I guess I owe those "foreigners" a debt of gratitude for steering me back to my American roots, which started my collecting and trading Old West antiques--bits, spurs, saddles, and other cowboy trappings.  Playing soccer was kaput, but thanks to Prada del Sol, I moved on to a new adventure--playing cowboy.

Meanwhile back at the ranch -- Iverson Gorge and Overlook Point

Meanwhile back at the ranch is my continuing series about "rock stars" (landscape features) on the old Iverson Movie Location Ranch is Chatsworth, California.  For more information see: http://a-drifting-cowboy.blogspot.com/2011/10/iverson-movie-location-ranch-chatsworth.html

The Iverson gorge is located in the Garden of the Gods park just north of Santa Susana Pass Road, and on the east side of Redmesa Road in Chatsworth.  The gorge is framed by the Cal-West townhouses to the north, Nyoka Cliff to the east, Redmesa Road on the west, and Santa Susana Pass Road on the south.  Lone Ranger rock, Three Ages rock, and the remains of an old stagecoach road (winding around the bottom of Nyoka Cliff) are all located in the gorge.  In the photo above -- a publicity still for Law of the Range (1941) -- we are looking toward the south from the north end of the gorge. 

Here's another still (above) from The Lives of a Bengal Lancer (1935).  The tree visible at the top right of the photo is on the summit of Nyoka Cliff.  The set for this scene stretched almost end-to-end in the Iverson gorge.

Above is a photo of Jim Bannon in a scene form Fighting Redhead (1949).  Jim and his horse are above the gorge on the west side near the Garden of the Gods formation.  The gorge often shows up in the background when filming takes place on Nyoka Summit, Garden of the Gods, or the Overlook Point south of the Garden of the Gods.

In the still above from Gunfight at Comanche Creek (1963), Audie Murphy and another actor (unknown) are on horseback in the gorge below Nyoka Cliff.

Because of the many boulders in the gorge, it was an ideal place for a good old-fashioned Western shoot-out.  In the photo above from The Oklahoma Kid (1939), outlaw James Cagney is lying in wait for a stagecoach.

The gorge saw lots of action, not only in Westerns, but also in war movies.  The still above is from The Fighting Seabees (1944).  It shows just how Hollywood could turn Chatsworth into a South Pacific island.  The palm trees were actually telephone poles with palm fronds applied.

Just south and a little uphill from the Garden of the Gods, an old camera mount remains.  The mount is at Overlook Point and was designed to steady a camera while filming action in the gorge, on the stagecoach road below, or even a dramatic scene taking place on Nyoka Cliff directly across the gorge.

The publicity still above for Gene Autry's Pack Train (1953) was photographed from the camera mount on Overlook Point.  The pack train is on the old stagecoach road at the bottom of Nyoka Cliff.

In the color screenshot (above) taken from Son of Paleface (1952), Jane Russell--who is playing the role of an outlaw--spies on a stagecoach in the gorge.  It is actually Jane Russell kneeling inside the camouflaged camera mount.

Here is a photo of a rearing horse on the edge of Overlook Point from a scene in The Adventures of Marco Polo (1938) starring Gary Cooper.  The photo was altered and enhanced--even the most daring stuntman would never trust a horse to rear that close to the edge.

Here's another still shot just north of the Overlook Point that shows the gorge below in the background.  The photo was a publicity still for the serial Man with the Steel Whip (1954).

Below are titles of a few of the many dozens of movies that feature scenes of the Iverson Gorge or Overlook Point:

Adventures of Marco Polo, The (1938) starring Gary Cooper

Buffalo Bill Rides Again (1947) starring Richard Arlen

Bullet Code (1940) starring George O'Brien

Charge of the Light Brigade, The (1936) starring Errol Flynn, Olivia de Havilland and Patric Knowles

Cowboy Holiday (1935) starring Guin Big Boy Williams

Custer's Last Stand (1936) starring Rex Lease (serial)

Desert Gold (1936) starring Buster Crabbe

Desert Horseman, The (1946) starring Charles Starrett

Don Daredevil Rides Again (1951) starring Ken Curtis (serial)

Fighting Redhead (1949) starring Jim Bannon

Fighting Seabees, The (1944) starring John Wayne, Susan Hayward and Dennis O'Keefe

Gallant Legion, The (1948) starring Bill Elliott

Gambling Terror, The (1937) starring Johnny Mack Brown 

Gunfight at Comanche Creek (1963) starring Audie Murphy

Junior Army (1942) starring Freddie Bartholomew, Billy Halop and Huntz Hall

Land Beyond the Law (1937) starring Dick Foran

Law of the Range (1941) starring Johnny Mack Brown

Lives of a Bengal Lancer, The (1935) starring Gary Cooper, Franchot Tone and Richard Cromwell

Man with the Steel Whip (1954) starring Dick Simmons (serial)

Marauders, The (1947) starring William Boyd and Andy Clyde

Mexican Hayride (1948) starring Bud Abbott and Lou Costello

Miracle Rider, The (1935) starring Tom Mix (serial)

Oklahoma Kid, The (1939) starring James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart 

Old Los Angeles (1948) starring Bill Elliott

Overland Stage Raiders (1938) starring John Wayne, Ray “Crash” Corrigan and Max Terhune

Pack Train (1953) starring Gene Autry

Sheriff of Cimarron (1945) starring Sunset Carson

Son of Paleface (1952) starring Bob Hope, Jane Russell and Roy Rogers

They Died with Their Boots On (1941) starring Errol Flynn

Three Ages (1923) starring Buster Keaton, Margaret Leahy and Wallace Beery

Trusted Outlaw, The (1937) starring Bob Steele

Under Arizona Skies (1946) starring Johnny Mack Brown and Raymond Hatton 

Undercover Man (1942) starring William Boyd

Wee Willie Winkie (1937) starring Shirley Temple, Victor McLaglen and C. Aubrey Smith

Reply to comment posted 9.13.13 -- asking about the location of the stagecoach road seen in Gene Autry's "Pack Train" (1953) in the photo above:

Here's a photo taken from the Overlook Point -- in the lower center you can see the same rocks that are behind Gene in the "Pack Train" photo.  The road in the lower left corner is Redmesa Road (north of Santa Susana Pass Road).

Cowboy Chic -- Armoires, credenzas, and coffee tables

It's great fun for me to look back at the progress of my cowboy chic furniture built and marketed as "Lure of the Dim Trails" between 1989 and 2002.  As I pointed out in an earlier post ( http://a-drifting-cowboy.blogspot.com/2011/11/cowboy-folk-art-lure-of-dim-trails.html ) my original inspiration was the silhouetted furniture created by the late Thomas Molesworth.  As time went on and I traveled more, my knowledge base expanded, allowing my art to grow, especially after attending a couple of the Western Design Conferences in Cody, Wyoming.  The coffee table, end table and credenza above were built about 1995.

The sideboard above was a commission earned at the second design conference.  It has drawers and doors, and was designed to work as a sideboard for a home in Big Sky, Montana.  The owner often has moose traveling through his backyard, which set the theme.

The "Californios" credenza above was a serious learning curve for my cabinet-making skills.  The owner was a California cattle rancher who needed a credenza to house his television and stereo.  The two doors on the right open and slide back into the cabinet.  There's also a sliding shelf that allows the television to be pulled forward and swivel for viewing.

The little cabinet above was an unpainted furniture item purchased about 1990 from a local shop at the beginning of my folk art career.   Over the years I found lots of plain cabinetry that I could decorate and finish without spending an extraordinary amount of time crafting a one-of-a-kind piece of furniture.  The more rustic pieces needed to be hand-crafted.  They cost a lot more because of the extra time required to fabricate them.

Above left is a "Dude Riders" armoire which is a perfect example of my use of unpainted furniture crafted by others.  Next to it (on the right) is an absolutely one-of-a-kind chair with a relief-carved horse head on the back rest, six-guns carved for armrest supports, and cowboy boots carved into the bottom of the front legs.  The chair was an absolute labor of love and took more than a week to build.

I named the coffee table above"Prairie Crossing."   It was one of my earliest pieces created about 1990.  It features cowboys on a trail drive and Indians hunting buffalo.  What could be more Western?  It found a good home in Bridgeport, California.

British Legacy -- Collecting antique woodworking tools

Joyce with a rare Davis level she found about 1975 in Virginia City, NV

My ancestry is loaded with carpenters, joiners, carriage-makers, and coopers.  In an earlier post I wrote about my great granddad who was the assistant foreman for the Royal Carriage Department of the Royal Arsenal in Woolwich, England.  See http://a-drifting-cowboy.blogspot.com/2011/11/british-legacy-four-generations-of-wood.html

I began working as a carpenter apprentice to my dad, who was a home builder in 1958.  By 1966, I was a journeyman carpenter framing tract homes in Southern California.  During a recession in 1969, I found temporary employment as a shipwright in the Long Beach Naval Shipyard.

While at the shipyard I often worked in its joiner shop, which was where I met an Italian emigrant who was a true old-world craftsman.  I'm sorry I don't remember his name; however his tools and skills made a lasting impression on me.

The old gentleman had a chest filled with tools I'd never seen before.  He had a set of roughly 30 moulding planes made of wood.   Even better,  he had made them himself.   He could do some things faster with those antiques than a youngster could do with an electric router.  I was so fascinated with his planes I actually made a couple of my own.  I didn't know it then, but that was the beginning of my passion collecting antique tools.  Collecting them lasted more than a decade. 

After Joyce and I were married in 1972, we bought a ranch-style home in Woodland Hills, California that begged to be decorated with antiques.  As a young married couple, we shopped for antique furniture that would be in our budget and would possibly still have value in the future.  Our home was cozy and fun.

Joyce tolerated my passion for tool collecting, and--maybe for the sake of her own sanity--began collecting old kitchen and country store items.

It didn't take long for our home to be literally packed to the rafters with kitchen collectibles and antique woodworking tools.

It's almost funny to look back and realize we had all those tools on the walls and never had an earthquake.  Fortunately for us the tools were long gone before the 1994 earthquake.

Tool chest and tools from about the 1860s

Tool chest and tools from about 1900

I sold the entire collection and purchased a 36' sailboat in 1981, but that's another story -- not to mention a big mistake :-(

Cowboy Wisdom -- High altitude conditioning for horses

Sunup and Cash in Taquitz Meadow at Saddle Junction

We lost a good friend a couple years back.  Ginger was a real pistol.  She loved horses and dogs, and lived life to the fullest measure.

One time she wanted us to see her family cabin and childhood hangout in Idyllwild, California.  Joyce and I caravan in our motorhomes with Ginger and her husband Robert, each of us pulling a horse trailer.   We stayed in a campground that had corrals for our horses.   The next day we rode on scenic mountain trails. 

Ginger saved the best for last.  All weekend she had been telling us about this great trail with extraordinary views called "Devil's Slide."  She told us it was fairly short--only about 2 1/2 miles--but it had a 1,700 ft. elevation gain in those two plus miles.  That told me it was going to be hard work for the horses, especially because our ride started at an elevation of 6,280 ft.  I was a little bit concerned about their ability to make the climb.

Somewhere I had read some advice about giving horses a couple of days to get conditioned at higher altitudes before making them work hard; and since our horses (who live at sea level) would be working at nearly 8000 feet by time we got to the top of the trail I had some concern.  

Ginger assured me the horses would be just fine.  She said she'd brought her horses up this trail many times in past years.  She was right.  Nobody is going to gallop up Devil's Slide.  It's a narrow single-track trail (not more than two feet wide in many places), and it has lots of one- to two-foot high steps.   Add to that plenty of switch-backs, making the going fairly slow.

Based on my own experience (I'm always huffing and puffing from just a short walk at altitudes over 7,000 ft.) I figured the horses would be plenty tired by the time we got to the top--a flat area called Taquitz Meadow.

I shouldn't have had the least concern because when ol' Sunup got to the top of  that steep trail he turned colt on me and wanted to run everywhere.

Coming back down the trail I had relaxed my rein,  letting Sunup pick his own path.  That rascal must have been getting bored with all those step downs because when I least expected it,  that knot-head leaped over two steps at once.  That wouldn't have been so bad, but the trail was only about two ft. wide, his drop was about four feet, and the drop off the edge of the cliff was at least 500 ft.

One slip of an iron shoe on those granite rocks could have gotten us an introduction to ol' Saint Pete for sure.  Sunup's leap was enough to make me tighten the reins and take  charge of choosing the path from there on :-)

Cowboy Legacy -- Puritan New England 1638 to Iowa Territory 1845

GENERATION 1

John BAILEY1 (Bailie or Baly as the name was then spelled) was our first emigrant ancestor.  He arrived from England on the ship BEVIS in 1638, and was part of the "Great Puritan Migration" between 1620 and 1640 when approximately 20,000 English colonists came to New England seeking religious freedom.

John was born about 1618, in Sheffield, Yorkshire, England, and died June 17, 1696, in Haddam, Middlesex, Connecticut.  In 1655, he married Lydia Backus, in Wethersfield, Hartford, Connecticut.  She was the daughter of William Backus and Sarah Gardiner.

In 1662, John Bailey was one of the 28 founders of Haddam, Connecticut, aka the Plantation at Thirty Mile Island.

The first settlers (founders) consisted of 28 men and their families from Hartford, Wethersfield and Windsor: Nicholas & Mariam (Moore) Ackley, Joseph & Elizabeth (Wakeman) Arnold, James & Hannah (Withington) Bates, John & Lydia (Backus) Bailey, Daniel & Hannah (Spencer) Brainerd, Thomas & Alice (Spencer) Brooks, Samuel & Elizabeth (Olmsted) Butler, William & Katherine (Bunce) Clark, Daniel & Mehitable (Spencer) Cone, William Corbee (Corby), Abraham & Lydia (Tefft) Dibble, Samuel & Anna (Burnham) Gaines (Ganes), George & Sarah (Olmstead Gates, John & Martha (Steele) Hannison, Richard & Elizabeth (Carpenter) Jones, Stephen Luxford, John Parents, Richard Piper, Thomas & Alice (Spencer) Shayler, Simon & Elizabeth (Wells) Smith, Thomas Smith, Gerrard & Hannah (Hills) Spencer, John & Rebecca (Howard) Spencer, Joseph & Elizabeth (Spencer) Stannard, William & Elizabeth (Unknown) Ventres, John & Hannah (Unknown) Webb, James & Elizabeth (Clark) Wells, and John & Mary (Bronson) Wyatt (Wiatt).  Our family is descended from seven of the founders (bold above).

GENERATION 2

The only Bailey buried at Thirty Mile Island Cemetery with a headstone

Ensign John2 Bailey, son of John1 Bailey and Lydia Backus Bailey, was born about 1656, in Hartford, Connecticut.  He died September 28, 1734, in Haddam, Middlesex, Connecticut. He married Elizabeth Gerard 1687, in Haddam, Middlesex, Connecticut.  She was the daughter of Robert Gerard and Elizabeth Beckwith.

GENERATION 3

Ephraim3 Bailey, son of John2 (John1) and Elizabeth Gerard Bailey, was born January 1, 1690/91, in Haddam, Connecticut.  He died March 27, 1761, in Haddam, Middlesex, Connecticut.  He married Deborah Brainerd August 3, 1716, in Haddam, Middlesex, Connecticut.  She was the daughter of James Brainerd and Deborah Dudley.

GENERATION 4

Oliver4 Bailey, son of Ephraim3 Bailey (John2, John1) and Deborah Brainerd Bailey was born June 25, 1738, in Haddam, Middlesex, Connecticut.  He was the fourth generation in America, and was a soldier in the French and Indian War (1755-1762) and the Revolutionary War (1775-1783).  He served under General George Washington in New York, when he fought in the battles of Long Island and White Plains.  He married Hannah Scovell May 14, 1761, in Haddam, Middlesex, Connecticut.  She was the daughter of William Scovell and Hannah Shayler.  After the Revolutionary War Oliver (together with most of his children) relocated (1st in the 1790s) in Lee, Massachusetts, and (2nd after 1804) in Bradford County, Pennsylvania where he died October 14, 1822.  Oliver is buried at Granville Center Cemetery, Bradford County, Pennsylvania. 

GENERATION 5

Thomas5 Bailey, son of Oliver4 Bailey (Ephraim3, John 2, John1) and Hannah Scovell Bailey, was born February 11, 1765,  in Haddam, Connecticut.  He married Esther Smith at the New Haven Second Church in January, 1788,  Haddam, Middlesex, Connecticut. He died about 1854, in Bradford County, Pennsylvania. 

GENERATION 6

Smith6 Bailey, son of Thomas5 Bailey (Oliver4, Ephraim3, John 2, John1) and Esther Smith Bailey, was born November 3, 1789, in Haddam, Middlesex, Connecticut, and died June 7, 1862, Davis County, Iowa. In 1812, he was a taxpayer in Canton Township, Bradford County, Pennsylvania, when that county was formed.  He married Rosemanty Rogers about 1810 in Canton Township, Bradford County, Pennsylvania. She was the daughter of Zepheniah Rogers (a Revolutionary War veteran) and Elizabeth Rood.

GENERATION 7

Orange7 Bailey, son of Smith6 Bailey (Thomas5, Oliver4, Ephraim3, John 2, John1) and Rosemanty Rogers Bailey, was born March 11, 1811, in Canton Township, Bradford County, Pennsylvania, and died June 18, 1905, in Davis County, Iowa. He 20 children with two wives. He settled in Marion Township, Davis County, Iowa Territory, in 1845.  He died June 18, 1905 in Bloomfied, Davis County. Iowa.  He married (1st) Lydia Waggoner, August 9, 1832, in Clinton Township, Franklin County, Ohio.  Lydia died in 1847.  He Married (2nd) Nancy Good in 1849, in Marion Township., Davis County, Iowa. Nancy Good was born about 1830,  the daughter of Isaac Good III and Juliana Stocker.

See http://a-drifting-cowboy.blogspot.com/2011/10/cowboy-legacy-iowa-territory-1845-to.html for more about Orange Bailey and his descendants.

More about Thirty Mile Island Plantation aka Haddam, Connecticut -- from: Haddam Historical Society:

"In 1660 the Connecticut Colonial Legislature sent Matthew Allyn and Samuel Willys down the Connecticut River from Hartford to purchase land from the Wangunk Indian Tribe at the place the English called 'Land of Thirty Mile Island'. The island, now known as Haddam Island was thought to be thirty miles from the mouth of the Connecticut River at Long Island Sound (it turned out to be only 17 miles from the mouth of river). In May 1662 the Englishmen finally purchased land comprising approximately 104 square miles and extending in six miles on each side of the river from the straits at "Pattyquonck" (now Chester) to the Mattabeseck-Mill River (now Middletown) across to the line of Chatham (now East Hampton). The English paid 30 coats (worth approximately $100) for the land from four Native American chiefs, two queens and others. The Native Americans did set aside some property for their own use including 40 acres at Cove Meadow (Chester) and Haddam Island as well reserving the right to hunt and fish where they pleased.

"Originally there were two small settlements on the west bank of the river, the Town Plot was laid out along the southern end of what is presently Walkley Hill Road and extended to the old burying ground (Burial Yard at Thirty Mile Island Plantation) and the Lower Plantation was settled south of the Mill Creek in the area now known as Shailerville. Each proprietor was given a home lot and land for farming. There was also land set aside for a meetinghouse and ministers lot. In October 1668 town was incorporated and given the name Haddam after Much Hadham in England. Haddam had very little tillable agricultural land and the best farming land was located along the river. Early residents utilized all of the natural resources available to them including water, fish, timber and granite in order to survive. 

"The Connecticut River was a major source of income and transportation for the first 200 years of the town existence. Shipyards were built along the river, while many other small tributaries provided waterpower for mills and eventually factories."

Never miss a chance to tell a good tall tale

Joyce and I started bustin' broncs down at Knot's place when we was knee high to a grasshopper.  Camera's never lie, but they don't always tell the whole truth either.

When I was cowboy'n up in old Wyomin' I met Joyce who was the best-lookin' school marm in Jackson Hole.

When you've been on the range for six months, you gotta get priorities straight: likker first, then a bath.  And cowboy wisdom suggests never rush a likker'd up cowpoke even if he's in the only bathtub in town.

Finally here's a line of bull…

About when I was a bullrider in the big rodeo over in Cody.

Of course being such fine bronc riders as we was -- our kids just naturally took to the proposition too.

Charlie Russell was the best spinner of tall tales, but I gotta admit ol' Steven Spielberg ain't far behind :-)

Ian's art inspires a New Year's resolution

If you've been following my blog you know I've dabbled with art much of my life, but frankly I don't think my smeared paint is worthy of being called art.  

On the other hand I have created some respectable cowboy wood-carvings, so I'm willing to admit to being a folk artist.

Somehow the genes that gave me the desire to smear paint got scrambled around, and came out way up the scale in my youngest grandson Ian.  The painting above won him a first place blue ribbon at the Ventura County Fair a couple months back.  I was thrilled when he gave me the painting for a Christmas present.

Ian is 12 years-old, and everyone agrees he's already a talented artist.

Ian's 2010 paintings include Godzilla attacking an airplane (above,) a family favorite.

Ian's airplane in a storm (above) is another pretty cool effort.  Not bad for an 11-year-old.

So, thanks to Ian, I'm making a New Year's resolution to start painting again.  Here's a computer sketch I worked on most of yesterday.  I'll draw it on a canvas today, and we'll see what happens.

Thanks Ian -- Happy New Year!