Ed Taylor, The Collinsville Trading Post & Big Chief Black Crow Printed in the Benkelman, NE Post, (Not sure of the exact date)
By C. L. KETLER
1881-1970
Installment No. 1146
Down Thru the Years
Many
years ago an elderly man came to our office to tell us about his
experiences in the early days of Collinsville, the man in question
being Ed Taylor and he was a brother of W. Z. Taylor of Culbertson and
of Mrs. John R. King and Mrs. Sarah Bond of Benkelman and the occasion
of his visit here at that time was to visit his sister, Mrs. Bond. He
came from his then home in California for that purpose, a practice he
had been following more or less for years.
And here we are going
to digress from this story long enough to clear up what seems to be a
misunderstanding concerning who started the first trading post in
Collinsville since many seem to have gained the impression from C. H.
Barnes' writings on Collinsville that it was Mr. Barnes' brother Tom
who was the original promoter but such was not the case since W. Z.
Taylor and John R. King really opened and operated the first trading
post here and in the end sold it to Barnes, and C. H. Barnes was
correct in saying that his brother Tom had owned the first trading post
in Benkelman, although he was not the man who launched it nor the first
person who operated it.
And
now back to the story of Ed Taylor. For some reason the owners of the
trading post had been called away and they prevailed on the younger
brother to come out and take over during their absence. It was his
first contact with Collinsville and his first experience in retailing
with a large per cent of the customers being cowboys. One afternoon it
became painfully quiet around the store, with the only sign of life
being at the little sod school house a few yards away where school was
in session with a group of barefooted kids and a tall, rangy teacher in
action. Young Taylor got to casting around the trading post and came
upon some Christmas candy and some nuts that had been left over from
Christmas which he knew would not keep thru the summer and he concluded
that a nice diversion for a quiet afternoon would be to play Santa
Claus to the kids and incidentally get acquainted with the teacher and
the thought soon reacted into action.
He made a diligent search
for something that could be used as a Santa Claus outfit but to no
avail but in his search he did find a complete Indian outfit with head
gear and all nicely decorated with feathers and he decided that it
might be a novelty to the kids to have an Indian Santa rather than the
usual variety. But he wanted to make it real so he spent quite some
time in putting on plenty of war paint, devised some type of a bow and
arrow and locating a pair of highly colored cowboy boots, along with
colorful neckpieces, he decided to go over to the school house, walk in
and after giving the kids and the teacher a little thrill, to invite
them over to the store for a treat after school that evening.
It
all looked so simple and he really got enthusiastic in how to act and
what to say to really make his appearance real. So after getting
himself in full Indian garb and practising a sort of slinking Indian
step to fully imitate the big chief whose part he was going to act, he
walked over to the little sod school house, opened the door and walked
in unannounced. The teacher was explaining some problem on the
blackboard and he stood there for several seconds before some kid
detected his presence and soon all the kids were staring at him with
open mouths with just a trace of panic shown and observing this, the
teacher turned around to face the “Chief” who proceeded with this
dialogue:
“I am Big Chief Black Crow.
"Big Chief no like pale face squaw.”
"Big Chief no like pale face papooses."
"Big Chief no like school."
"Heap Big Chief say pale face squaw and pale face papooses must go."
And
then Taylor stood still and faced the teacher. It was the first time
that he had ever seen her at close range. She was a large, well
proportioned Irish girl, who, when it came to real physical power,
might be equal to any man and Taylor right then, as she stared at him,
decided that she wasn't going to get hold of "Heap Big Chief,” if he
could prevent it. She just stood there and they stared at each other
for quite a few seconds and he noticed that she occasionally cast her
eyes downward at the base of the big, old cast iron stove. Finally, he
said a sort of smile came over her pretty face but it soon gave way to
an expression of deadly earnestness and he was beginning to wonder what
the outcome of it all was going to be.
But he didn't have to
wonder long because, like a tigeress, she leaped in his direction and
before he realized it, she grabbed up a huge poker and with a fiendish
look now in her eye, began twirling it at terrific speed. Things for
Taylor had begun to look serious so he decided to retire but was too
late because after she got the poker swinging at the proper
momentum she made a dash at him just as he was about to reach the door
and the blow struck him on the side about midway between the arm and
hip and force of the blow was so great that it brought him to his hands
and knees, so he thought it was time to explain and bring further
hostilities to an end because his side felt like she had broken every
rib in it, but there was no time for explanation. The teacher was in no
mood to talk—she too now had her war paint on—and she continued her
program of destruction.
Taylor finally reached the door on hands
and knees and after giving him one farewell love tap after he had
reached the outside, she gently closed the door and continued to work
her problems on the board.
Taylor's description of the whole
affair reminded me of a story that Harve Wilson once told me about two
negroes fighting. Finally one got the other down and was pounding his
face into jelly, heeding not the admission of the conquered foe that he
had had enough, etc. Finally other negroes decided to stop the fight
and pulled the victorious darky off and when the other arose he thanked
the fellows who had come to his rescue, saying "I never got so tired of
a man in my life."
And so it must have been with the "Heap Big
Chief Crow" and his newly met school teacher friend. He said that he
finally made his way back to the store but his fine plumage had wilted
badly. In fact he said he more resembled an old hen far advanced with
the croup which had been sitting around in a muddy barnyard. He locked
the store up for the afternoon and all but crawled to the home of his
sister, Mrs. King, with whom he had been boarding. When he went in
limping and trying to smile as if nothing had happened, a woman's
curiosity was soon aroused and he was pressed for an explanation and he
finally told her that he was unloading a barrel of kerosene from a
wagon and that he slipped and the thing got away from him and not alone
fell on his body but rolled over it as well.
Taylor said that he
guessed that the reason that he made up that story was because he
believed that two barrels of kerosene could have run over him without
making him feel worse than he did at that moment. His sister put him to
bed and rubbed him with liniment at the many points where his flesh was
turning black and blue and for almost ten days he stayed at the house
without ever leaving it for it was that long before he could walk
without feeling like a network of pure and unadulterated pain and
misery.
He said during the period that he was recovering he
could not help but remember the gleam in that teacher's eye, even if he
had not been able to foresee what was in the making for him. He said
that one thing that troubled him the most was the possibility of the
cowboys learning of the disaster that had overcome him and he almost
prayed that such would never be the case for he knew that he would be
the butt of every joke and that he never could live it down. And he was
hopeful too that the school teacher did not recognize him or connect
him with "Heap Big Chief Black Crow," and as the days wore on he was
all but convinced that she hadn't because he had met her face to face
on different occasions after that and there was nothing in her actions
to even suggest that she did know him. Except on the occasion mentioned
she had never spoken to him—in fact she didn't that day but it was a
case wherein actions spoke much louder than words, and he wanted no
more action.
Finally school was out and the teacher was leaving
for her home some place in the East and, as was the custom then, as it
was for many years thereafter, many people went to incoming and
outgoing trains, not in most part for any real reason save to see folks
from the outside world going thru or occasionally some one leaving.
So,
as on other nights, Taylor went to the train and he noted the school
teacher with her baggage packed and all ready to take off. A few women
and some of her pupils were at the depot to see her off and she talked
to them until the porter picked up her baggage and placed it on the
coach steps and called "All aboard."
Just
then the teacher turned her head in Taylor's direction and with the
same defiant twinkle in her eye as had met his gaze when the "Big
Chief" entered her school room several weeks before, she then most
coquettishly waved her hand at him in a sort of tantalizing way and
said, "Well, goodbye now, Heap Big Chief Black Crow; better luck next
time." Others in the crowd, among whom were several cowboys, cast
inquiring glances at Taylor and tried to put two and two together but
the mystery was too deep for them, "And," said Taylor, "I was glad it
was. I never saw that school teacher again and the truth is, I never
wanted to."
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