Marion in 1990(First Published in Country Folk Magazine
A condensed version)
In Rembrance of an Ozark Mountain Man
A Time to Remember
By Ronnie Powell
Some time during the early hours of December 14, 1917 a blizzard hit Wichita, Kansas and swept North across into the town of Burns. Included in the path of the storm was a small farm owned by Roy and Olive Maggard. It was during these early hours, before the dawn, Olive Maggard became aware her pregnancy was about to end in the birth of her second child. Olive awakened Roy and informed that he should hasten to Burns to get Doc McIntosh to assist her in the birth of their child. Roy wasted no time and went to the barn hitched a team of horses to a wagon.
Out side the wind was howling, but undaunted he climbed onto the high seat and set out for Burns. The snow was already drifting across the road. The wind nearly took his breath away. Fortunately he made the trip to town and back within two hours with the doctor. Not long afterwards Marion a thirteen pound baby was born, second son of Roy and Olive.
The weeks and months passed and spring at last came to the prairie. Marion had grown strong adapting well to the harsh life of a Kansas farm.
“I never did learn to crawl,” he said, “just up and started walking one day.
In his twenty first year, Marion left his parents farm and headed for Soda Springs, Idaho. He quickly found a job on a cattle ranch. “Those were my cowboying days.” He recalled with great fondness. Marion was issued a high stepping, young gelding and began riding fence around a fourteen hundred plus acres.
In December of 1942, Marion Joined the Navy See Bee’s, for World War two was looming darkly on the horizon. After boot camp Marion was sent to the South pacific. He participated in the battle of Boganville and from there went to New Guinea, a build up point after it was liberated from the Japanese. While stationed on an island in the Philippines, a Japanese plane carrying a bomb came in low and turn in toward the island.
“We had been told,” He said, “that you couldn’t out run a bomb when it is heading for you.” He smiled, and then replied. “But they were wrong; we did out run it and dove under a huge crane. The only injuries we received were cuts and bruises from bumping into each other.
Marion was discharged in October of 1945 and married and bought a farm in Missouri near the Dallas and Webster county line. Marion was not a farmer and sold the land and began his life’s profession as an iron worker, and raised two daughters. In 1975 Marion retired at the age of fifty nine and in 1985 he heled to organize the Dallas County Ozark Ridge Runners, a muzzle loader enthusiast group. This group of men and women became involved in living history, sponsoring reenactments of fur traders, mountain men and civil war aspects. It was during this time, Prairie Days; a festival sponsored by the Dallas County Historical Society took roots The Ozark Ridge Runners became an important part of the festival.
Prairie days, a three day annual event was time for the Indians to gather there, representing five tribes. The mountain man, fur traders and Civil War enthusiasts were there, and the gunfighters, saloon girls along with a fast shooting sheriff. There many craft booths, shooting contests, melodramas, country music and old time preaching in brush arbor. Prairie days lasted for nine years and drew people from far and wide. Marion was there doing his part to make the show spectacular.
Prairie Days is gone but not the spirit of it, for every spring and autumn many of the people including Marion gathered in Granny Hollow to relive the past. Tee pees, Baker tents and a host of other primitive shelters were set up for a three day shoot and social gathering.
Not long before Marion passed on he said. “The best part of a Rendezvous is when the sun goes down and the tantalizing aroma of camp coffee, fresh baked biscuits and stew fill the air. It is a time when friends get together to share the past and most important the present.”
Marion has not been forgotten. “Farewell Old Friend.” Adios
A condensed version)
In Rembrance of an Ozark Mountain Man
A Time to Remember
By Ronnie Powell
Some time during the early hours of December 14, 1917 a blizzard hit Wichita, Kansas and swept North across into the town of Burns. Included in the path of the storm was a small farm owned by Roy and Olive Maggard. It was during these early hours, before the dawn, Olive Maggard became aware her pregnancy was about to end in the birth of her second child. Olive awakened Roy and informed that he should hasten to Burns to get Doc McIntosh to assist her in the birth of their child. Roy wasted no time and went to the barn hitched a team of horses to a wagon.
Out side the wind was howling, but undaunted he climbed onto the high seat and set out for Burns. The snow was already drifting across the road. The wind nearly took his breath away. Fortunately he made the trip to town and back within two hours with the doctor. Not long afterwards Marion a thirteen pound baby was born, second son of Roy and Olive.
The weeks and months passed and spring at last came to the prairie. Marion had grown strong adapting well to the harsh life of a Kansas farm.
“I never did learn to crawl,” he said, “just up and started walking one day.
In his twenty first year, Marion left his parents farm and headed for Soda Springs, Idaho. He quickly found a job on a cattle ranch. “Those were my cowboying days.” He recalled with great fondness. Marion was issued a high stepping, young gelding and began riding fence around a fourteen hundred plus acres.
In December of 1942, Marion Joined the Navy See Bee’s, for World War two was looming darkly on the horizon. After boot camp Marion was sent to the South pacific. He participated in the battle of Boganville and from there went to New Guinea, a build up point after it was liberated from the Japanese. While stationed on an island in the Philippines, a Japanese plane carrying a bomb came in low and turn in toward the island.
“We had been told,” He said, “that you couldn’t out run a bomb when it is heading for you.” He smiled, and then replied. “But they were wrong; we did out run it and dove under a huge crane. The only injuries we received were cuts and bruises from bumping into each other.
Marion was discharged in October of 1945 and married and bought a farm in Missouri near the Dallas and Webster county line. Marion was not a farmer and sold the land and began his life’s profession as an iron worker, and raised two daughters. In 1975 Marion retired at the age of fifty nine and in 1985 he heled to organize the Dallas County Ozark Ridge Runners, a muzzle loader enthusiast group. This group of men and women became involved in living history, sponsoring reenactments of fur traders, mountain men and civil war aspects. It was during this time, Prairie Days; a festival sponsored by the Dallas County Historical Society took roots The Ozark Ridge Runners became an important part of the festival.
Prairie days, a three day annual event was time for the Indians to gather there, representing five tribes. The mountain man, fur traders and Civil War enthusiasts were there, and the gunfighters, saloon girls along with a fast shooting sheriff. There many craft booths, shooting contests, melodramas, country music and old time preaching in brush arbor. Prairie days lasted for nine years and drew people from far and wide. Marion was there doing his part to make the show spectacular.
Prairie Days is gone but not the spirit of it, for every spring and autumn many of the people including Marion gathered in Granny Hollow to relive the past. Tee pees, Baker tents and a host of other primitive shelters were set up for a three day shoot and social gathering.
Not long before Marion passed on he said. “The best part of a Rendezvous is when the sun goes down and the tantalizing aroma of camp coffee, fresh baked biscuits and stew fill the air. It is a time when friends get together to share the past and most important the present.”
Marion has not been forgotten. “Farewell Old Friend.” Adios
1 comment:
Marion was a good man. This is a wonderful reminder of him.
Wow - a thirteen pound baby. -Whew.
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