Go West stories: Day we left Oklahoma 'saddest time of my life'
| Friday, Jun 18 2010 07:03 PM
Last Updated Friday, Jun 18 2010 07:03 PM
The Bakersfield Museum of Art is hosting Go West Day, part of an ongoing celebration of Western art and culture, from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. July 31 at the museum, 1930 R St. Admission is $1.
The day is family-friendly, with children's activities like pony rides, storytelling, arts and crafts, music, cowboy demonstrations and more. Raffle prizes include accommodations at the historic Rankin Ranch, giveaways from Emporium Western Store, Barnes & Noble, the Marriott, a guitar from Guitar Center and tickets for four to a Los Angeles Dodgers game, courtesy of The Californian.
When we told Lizzy we were headed to California, she went back into the house and brought out her most prized possession, a gold-plated knife and tie pin in a nice case. I think she knew she was seeing us for the last time, and tears ran down her cheeks when she placed the knife in my hand. This was the saddest time of my life.
If you would like to share the tale of how you or your family came to the West, send in your stories (no more than 500 words) and photos, if you have them. Photos will not be returned. Include your name, address and phone number. Submit stories online at bpandol@bmoa.org or mail to the Bakersfield Museum of Art, 1930 R St., Bakersfield, CA 93301. Your story may be published in The Californian or appear on KERO TV.
In honor of a fabulous exhibit and celebration called "Best of the West" at the Bakersfield Museum of Art, the museum and The Californian are asking readers for the stories behind why their families came to the West.
The Meltons
By Charley Melton
In the spring of 1941, my dad left Oklahoma for California looking for work. The stock market fell in 1929, triggering the Great Depression, and work was very hard to find. Three months later my mother, carrying a 3-month-old baby and four other kids, walked down a dirt road dragging a couple of suitcases leading to the main highway. What a sight we must have been.
The rundown log shack that we lived in faded out of sight by the time we reached the highway. We waited until the mail arrived and my mother talked the mail man into giving our family a ride to my grandfather's house nine miles away. We were to meet one of my uncles, who was going to drive us to sunny California, the land of milk and honey. What a joke that saying turned out to be.
My uncle, mother and five of us kids stuffed ourselves in a 1939 Chevrolet business coupe, with only floor boards for a back seat. Four of us kids sat on the blanket, and my mother held the baby.
My uncle was in a hurry but my mother finally talked him into stopping at Lizzy's house to say goodbye. Lizzy was a full- blooded Chickasaw Indian woman that raised my dad and lived with us most of my life. My uncle was in such a hurry he didn't let us get out of the car. When we told Lizzy we were headed to California, she went back into the house and brought out her most prized possession, a gold-plated knife and tie pin in a nice case. I think she knew she was seeing us for the last time, and tears ran down her cheeks when she placed the knife in my hand. This was the saddest time of my life. At that young age I couldn't understand why we couldn't take her with us.
The trip was three days of misery crossing the desert in the middle of the summer without an air conditioner, and when we pulled into Bakersfield on the 1st of July, 1941, the temperature was 110 degrees.
We rented a cabin at a motor court on Union Avenue across the street from what is now the fairgrounds. My dad showed up the next morning and took me on a sightseeing walk to 19th and Union, where we caught a street car to Chester Avenue. I couldn't believe the size of this town, about 30,000 people.
A few days later we rented a house behind the River Theater in Oildale, the first house we had lived in with an indoor toilet, running water and electricity. I couldn't get over the light hanging from the ceiling that would give light by just pulling a string. We thought the customs in California were strange. Here we went to the toilet inside, where in Oklahoma it was the opposite.
That first summer I watched workers building a pedestrian tunnel underneath North Chester Avenue across the street from Standard School. They were trying to finish before school started in September 1941.
I didn't like California. I learned a few new words like "Okie" "Arkie" and "hillbilly." We tried to blend in but we were easy to spot with our bib overalls and Southern drawl and the need to kick off our shoes and go barefoot in the summer.
Other things didn't go so good either. I ate a plum that turned out to be an olive -- it left a taste in my mouth that I can still remember. I crawled under my dad's car and smoked a cigar butt that I found along the roadside. I can't describe how sick I got, and to top that first month off I was called a dumb "Okie."
-- Charley Melton is a retired Kern County Fire Department captain
The Lambersons
By Mary Lamberson Conner
August Lamberson, called "Gus," was born on Jan. 10, 1880, in Independence County, Ark.
In 1897, at age 17, August left home and eventually found work on a ranch near Laton in Kings County.
In 1910, August met Susie McNeill, age 24, who came from Marionville, Mo., to visit her brother, who was working at the same ranch. Six weeks later, August and Susie married in Hanford and moved to Bakersfield the following year, 1911.
After moving to Bakersfield, they settled in Virginia Colony and Offers Resort of east Bakersfield. August worked for the Southern Pacific Railroad.
Their only means of transportation at the time was August's motorcycle and a horse-drawn wagon. He broke his leg in a motorcycle accident while working for the S.P. Railroad, and the injury forced him to quit work.
After his leg recovered enough, August worked a few years for Ardizzi-Olcese Mercantile Store, located on Sumner Street near Baker Street in east Bakersfield.
About 1915 August and Susie obtained acreage located off Round Mountain Road on the north side of the Kern River (three miles northeast of Sharkstooth Mountain and Hart Park). They referred to the property as "the homestead." (It was obtained from the federal government's General Land Office.)
Because their house burned down about 1918, they were forced to move back to Virginia Colony. While in the process of moving, August reinjured his bad leg when he got it caught in the spoke of the wagon wheel.
While residing in Virginia Colony for the second time, August and Susie purchased 10 acres located on the east side of South Cottonwood Road, about half mile south of East Belle Terrace, in southeast Bakersfield.
Because August broke his leg twice and was permanently disabled, Susie had to work full time. Although in constant pain because of his bad leg, he still managed to build their house at 1100 Cottonwood Road about 1918 to 1919. (Their daughter Mary was born in this house in 1922.)
August planted a large vegetable garden and had a milk cow plus chickens to ensure food was on the table. August and Susie worked hard to provide for their family of four daughters: Catherine, Isabelle, Teresa and Mary.
Susie worked 15 years at the Bakersfield Laundry and five years at the Family Service Laundry. After doing laundry work, Susie worked at the Main Motel located on old Highway 99 and later as a caretaker for an elderly lady, who lived in the old Carnation Tract located southwest of the old Bakersfield Inn.
August died on Sept. 10, 1945, at the age of 65, and Susie died March 12, 1977, at the age of 91. They were buried at Greenlawn Cemetery, northeast Bakersfield.
In the early 1950s, Susie leased the pasture portion of the 10 acres to Bud and Flora "Flo" Waters, who called the property the B & F Horse Ranch. The property was eventually sold to the Waterses after Susie's death.
