The Last Hero

When I was a lad my heroes to name a few were, Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Tarzan and a host of other movie stars. They were good people, at least in the roles they played and I grew up with that in mind. My first real life hero was Truman and I cheered when he defeated Dewy, to my Father’s dismay. Mother cheered with me. The years slipped by and there were so many heroes to choose from, real people and of course movie stars. I really don’t know if John Wayne and I would have gotten along too well, but he was the best in the roles he played and I would much rather watch one of his movies, than waste my time on the trash that appears on t. v. these days. Anyhow time keeps marching on and nearly all my heroes, including good friends and family are gone, but along came a man of whom I greatly admire, of great moral character, honest, brave and a man I would stand with any time. He is going to be around for a very long time, so I won’t be concerned about the fellow dying. He, I must admit is a strange looking man, very large, but as humble as pumpkin pie and he loves animals. His name is Shrek. Adios

The Twilight of the Primitive-Lewis Cotlow

There is one small difference between Lewis Cotlow and me and of course there are other differences. Lewis is a great writer and Journalist with several very good books to his credit and I am not. The small difference I have mentioned is I love to write about Prehistory and Mister Cotlow writes about the last of the primitive people. The word primitive is used simply because society in general does not know better. If not for the primitive people much of what we have become, both positive and negitive would have not occurred. Nearly every segment of the primitive people have been overwhelmed and in some aspects completely obliterated, leaving behind only fragments to wonder about.

Mister Cotlow's books on the twilight of the remaining people that have survived the massive rush of civilizations paralel that of our own societies of the present and that to me is a bit scarey, however nothing remains the same and the old must bend with the new or be pushed down to become remnants of bygone eras. For me at least, Mister Colow's books are remarkable accounts of The Last Primitive People on this planet. Adios

Once Again They lead the Summer Into Autumn

Although We are Still in the Grip of An Extremely Hot summer, Soon the Sumac Will Change to a Scarlet Hue and usher in the Autumn. Adios

The Sumac
They endure timidly in the realm of ragged fence rows
Among the wild rose vines and where the ivy grows
They never swell as tall as a sycamore tree
Or as stout as an oak on a windy hill
But wait, when September arrives in scarlet hues they stand
To lead the weary summer from the melancholy land
Adios

Back Home Again, My Old Tractor

My sixty year old Tractor was taken away as posted on July 17 for much needed repair and today it was returned to me purring like a Kitten. Adios

Good Monday Morning

Beautiful Heidi waiting for our walk

Last fall I relocated this wild sunflower from a road ditch to my garden and she has grown tall and is about to bloom. She is a beautiful creature of the wild. Adios

A Wilson Creek Connection

I Am a Refection of My Grandfathers Below. I am Captian Hurd in the Movie Arkansas Yankees and Captain Butcher Redoak in a Meladrama The Last Osage

James Mitchel Wright, Confederate Civil War Veteran

Henry Allen Pitts, Union, Civil War Veteran

A Time to Remember
Encounter at Wilson Creek
By Ronnie Powell

This chronicle, an edited version from an article of mine in the Country Folk Magazine, began at approximately 5: a.m., August 10, 1861 at or near Wilson Creek, not far from Springfield, Missouri. It is a saga of two men, who along with thousands of other men would soon take part in one of the bloodiest battle of the Civil War and helped to make it possible for me to be here.
James Mitchel Wright although very ill with the measles was one of more than 10,000 Confederate troops bivouacked along Wilson Creek. They were under the command of General Ben McCullough. James was a part of the 4th Arkansas Infantry.
James was born in Livingston, Overton County, Tennessee. On February 13, and at the age of ten, he moved with his family to Carrol County Arkansas near the town of Kingston.
James planed to be a medical doctor but in his twentieth year, the Civil War began and in the spring of 1861, he volunteered his services to the Confederate Army. He served the entire four years of the war. James equipped with only a common rifle and a cloth bag to hold powder and ball set out on an adventure that would change a nation. The blue eyed, sandy haired young man would become a loyal defender of the Confederacy.
The march to Wilson Creek was grueling and food was in short supply, consisting of roasting ear corn, potatoes and tomatoes, most of it foraged from fields along the way.
Not far away in a valley near the Ben Short farm, Henry Allen Pitts also prepared to do battle. He had been hastily awakened, ordered to keep quite and to fall in line.
Breakfast had been a hurried event on the move and consisted of a small portion of cooked pork carried inside a large turtle shell loaf of bread.
Henry served under the command of General Nathaniel Lyon and a part of Colonel Boyd’s Home Guard and would become a fierce defender of Bloody Hill around and above Wilson Creek.
Henry Pitts was born in South Carolina in 1840 and in his early teens, slipped away from home and headed west on a wagon train. The young lad made it to Orla Mills near the town of Lebanon, Missouri.
Henry settled at Orla Mills, became a blacksmith, a boot maker and veterinarian and married a local girl near the beginning of the Civil War. Henry, although a Southern Democrat, did not believe in slavery and chose to fight with the Union. The tall blue eyed young man of English ancestry carried with him a politeness and good manners that would remain unchanged during his lifetime.
At 5:a.m. the Union battery under Captain Totten sent shot and shell crashing into the trees above the 4th Arkansas. James Wright scrambled for cover. John Ried’s Rebel battery unlimbered their smooth bores in response. It was sometime during this barrage from the Union that Captain Ried quickly sought higher ground opposite the mouth of Skeggs Branch.
This battery was accompanied by the 3rd, 4th and 5th Arkansas Infantry. At 10 a.m. the infantry groups began fighting their way up Bloody Hill. It was during this perilous accent up the hill that James Wright and other of the Confederates came upon General Lyon’s iron grey horse lying dead. It was learned later the Union general had also been wounded but chose to reenter the battle. The general was again wounded and died and died from these wounds.
Henry Pitts and others in his outfit were pinned down. Captain Totten’s battery opened up again and they were successful in routing the Rebels and securing the ridge. From that position, Henry and his outfit went to the crest of Bloody Hill.
The Battle of Wilson Creek lasted from 5: a.m. until 11:30 Saturday, August 10. The losses on both sides were devastating and although the South was the victor, they chose not to advance into Springfield. The Union forces made a hasty retreat from the city at daybreak to Rolla, Missouri. The journey was over one hundred miles.
Henry Allen Pitts and James Michel Wright survived the war and returned to their homes, strangers and enemies of war. But years later they were destined to share a common bond.
On December 13, 1888, James Pinkey Pitts, first son of Henry Pitts and Lula Beulah Wright, first daughter of James Wright were united in Marriage. They moved to a farm a few miles northwest of Charity, Missouri. On this farm they reared nine children and were married fifty years. Minnie Minerva Pitts the youngest of the nine children was my mother.
There were two other known family members who fought in the bloody battle of Wilson Creek and survived. Both of these men were of my father’s family, an Uncle severing in the 8th Missouri Cavalry, a locale unit. The other man a Grandfather fought with the Confederacy. Adios

As Time Goes By, Five Hats, Four Books

A Book Signing in Branson

My First Book, South Through Bare Foot Pass

My Second Book, Tiddleson, Son of Tiddle

My Third Book, A Stranger in London Smoke

My Fourth Book, Life Along The Dousinberry

The above books were written and published aproximately one year apart. For more info please contact me at rdpowell@hotmail.com Each book will be signed, dated and the last three numbered. All four books are limited first editions.

P.S--- I would like to address the word Blabber. To ildly chat, to give away a secret, is but two aspects of the word. Picture if you will a man or woman talking recalling days past, revealing wonderful stories of early days or historic events etc. Personal details are often revealed, perhaps secrets of humor and drama that make the past come alive. If not for blabber I would not have been able to write my books and of course I am a proud blabber. Oh yes, I have had people roll thier eyes at time when listening to me, but that is alright, for I continue to blab. Adios.